What is the saying about March? I think it was Sylvia Plath.
'In March, I'll be rested, caught up, and human."
This season could not ring more true, Miss Plath.
For a long time, and for a fair bit of the winter, I've been feeling this rumbling of change in my work. A long time coming, since now will be my 16th year at the bench. I think, as all teenagers do, that there comes a time when who you want to be and who you are now feel wildly disconnected. Like two people, sometimes. It's not without a bit of teenage angst I plowed my way through this winter, failing so many times at so many new things behind these digital curtains, letting go of familiar patterns, and felt my hand forced to some hard conversations with people I love, and people I don't. I've been really trying hard to be a better artist and metalsmith, a better daughter and sister and friend. I've been really trying to show up as the woman I know I have the guts to show up as, but the truth is. It's hard to suck. It's hard to flounder. And when you have created your professional world around being a professional, and a good one, failure and bad sloppy outcomes feel icky. When you pride yourself as a good human, and then show up in bad form, that also feels....icky.
Last year, I grew nothing. As an avid gardener, this was new, and not without guilt. This winter, we didn't have ski passes to our local mountain, the first time in a long time we didn't use that recreation to create fresh air in our lives. I had to show up differently, and it wasn't as easy as I thought. The things and activities and pursuits I leaned on fell through the cracks all year, and I had to let go my rigid grasp of what a season would look like without these signifying parts of me. As a metalsmith, I F**ked up so many big projects last year that required starting completely over again, while I watched the world implode, and the metals market free-fall. I felt like a failure. A no-good faker. I held family and dear friends with tenderness and truth, while also trying to be kind to myself, and usually didn't succeed at that, either. This went all unseen, some deeper seismic shifts than others, and every system I had in place to make everything work felt off. In a nutshell, the world I leaned on for identity, peace, independence, and income, sorta fell apart, dissolved with impunity, or changed overnight.
The thing is. We still had a beautiful porch of flowers last summer. A dear friend delivered 'leftovers' in a truckload of plugs that didn't make the farm cut. And we will again this spring. I have so many plans, and seeds!
And the skiing. We went to Cooke City and stayed in a yurt in the high altitude and skied at dawn with friends under a crescent moon and a pastel pink sky. Sometimes, seasons require one big trip to remind you how much you love it.
And mostly. This profession I love so much has given me hope when I felt I might have to find another, and has proven to be much deeper water than I ever expected. I find myself more adventurously kicking further out into the deep end than I would have been comfortable with a few years ago, maybe in part because the furthest shore isn't so far away anymore. It was a hard year of grating against myself, while trying not to lose a business I have worked so hard to keep afloat, but time and time again. My community, galleries, shops, and loyal patrons across the country show up, and keep showing up. New stuff is hard. But it's also fun. It's been nice to remember both.
It is now the end of March, and thought I may not feel extra rested or caught up, I DO feel more human. That Imperfect and raw and real one left behind when the expectations and perfectionism and pride fall away. The one that speaks more kindly to her younger self, instead of judging her every move. The one that speaks up for when things go unfairly, and when things must be said that might be hurtful, but are also true.
This deep identity shift I have profoundly felt in my profession and in my role as artist in the last calendar year has cracked open some of my most tender wounds, and the life I have built around them. It's a raw and tender way to start a season, but leaning into growing is the only way we actually do. Tucking some seeds from these fist-sized Globe Marigolds that thrived to nearly hip-height last summer felt right last year, and I dug them out today from the dusty cupboards in my sunroom to enjoy another go at this growing season. I plan to scatter those seeds, and say a little something like the old Irish ones would have, so maybe I can remember to be kinder to myself, and truer than I ever have before.
Bless this house and those within.
Bless our giving and receiving.
Bless our words and conversation.
Bless our hands and recreation.
Bless our sowing and our growing.
Bless our coming and our going.
Bless all who enter and depart.
Bless this house, your peace impart.
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BLOOM, cast! This pendant is a sand cast 'bloom' that I've combined with a petal formation setting of these SEVEN Sonoran Turquoise pieces. Hung from a double loop bail on a gorgeous 24" wheat chain. OOAK for spring 2026. These stones are stabilized, and are the prettiest blue Turquoise you'll ever see!
Measures 2" at her widest, and 2" with bail. This is a solid sand casting, and just at a half ounce of silver in the bloom! My signature coin is on the back.