Tactile Creativity

eThe only solution I see to a crazy world is to create something new. A new way of thinking, a new hierarchy of priorities, a new object of beauty. In the past, writing has been my main creative outlet but now I crave something more elemental and tactile. I'm drawn to British reality shows about interior design or baking; the British are more polite, less ruthlessly competitive, and their brave attempts to try something new inspire me to attempt my own art projects.

Currently my project is a mosaic, a wave theme to be mounted on wood and hung in the master bathroom. In the event that it fails, no one will have to view it except me and Rob, and occasionally the children when they come in to snag toilet paper. I also want to paint the kitchen chairs green, which met with raised eyebrows and protestations from the boys, but remarkable forbearance from Rob. He seems to get it - that creative endeavors provide peace of mind and clear short-term goals that help alleviate nameless fears for the future.

As a result of my craving for tactile creativity, my writing has decreased. I weary of ideas, arguments and philosophy, and lean into my desire to create a happier, more colorful home space that smells of cinnamon and occasionally chocolate (brownies are best ). I long to change broken plates into art (after first smashing them on the porch - tremendously satisfying) or turning that old, brown banana into muffins.  My kitchen is more satisfying than a world stage, my happy family a better audience than potentially disgruntled readers. (Not that any of you are disgruntled - you are the happy readers, whom I cherish!)

So off to smash some plates and buy some clear gloves so I don't glue my fingers together. I might need them to type some day.