Beyond Helene; an Anniversary
Today marks a significant anniversary for me. On November 14, 2023, on my commute home from a part-time job I’d taken in the spring, another driver misjudged their timing and smashed into my car, instantly totaling it. I was lucky to walk away with only minor injuries. It was a nerve-wracking experience— in part because it was the third time I had been hit in less than two years— but the event shed a much needed light on my priorities. Without a car for the foreseeable future, my life had become immediately and insurmountably complicated. My stress red-lined. A major shift had occurred.
The holidays tend to be a tense time for artists— we go into hyper-production mode, with many of us making a significant portion of our annual income in these few months. So personally, I was juggling many balls. On top of that, much was happening in the world at the time. Israel had recently declared war on Hamas. One of our prolific mountain elders, Joe Hollis, had been taken by terminal cancer. The weight of time pressed upon my heart and I felt I only had one choice: to prioritize myself. I decided to quit the part-time job and dive headlong back into my jewelry practice.
The last time art was my sole source of income was back in 2017. Having started my career in 2011, six years in I was feeling burnt out. I had already been through phases of odd jobs and distracting opportunities— everything from tidying the estates of millionaires to spending a summer picking peppers to managing the studio of another jeweler. Turning your creative work into your livelihood and striking that precious balance of productivity and inspiration is the topic of untold amounts of podcasts and books. And yet, there remained a leaf unturned in my own practice.
When I started down this professional path, I lacked a lot of things: industry knowledge, a cohesive vision, and, most notably, self-discipline. The last one is a doozy. Anyone who is self-employed knows how critical it is to hold oneself accountable. In the absence of external pressure from a Boss, it’s easy to cop out, make excuses, and undercut your own value. Ultimately, what I came to realize was that my lack of self-discipline was a lack of self-respect. I’ve always had a strong work ethic, but where I’ve given that willingly to others, I’ve struggled to make the commitment to myself. Why? Once I recognized this massive flaw in my creative practice as harmful to my livelihood, something shifted. In essence, I’d had enough of my own bullsh*t. It was time to give myself the earnest dedication I’d so freely given countless others, some of whom were large corporations with paltry wages and questionable labor practices. Enough. Is this what turning 40 is about?
There’s something else I want to tell you about myself. This August, I went back to school. I am in a 2 year program (or, more like 3ish for me…) in wildlife management. To say that I’ve picked an interesting time to delve into the world of natural resource management in this country is an understatement. I’m not sure where this program will take me but I intend to braid it into my existing life as an artist, and I can’t wait to tell you more about it in future posts.
Before Helene, before the weight of this election year, before the anniversary of Israel’s declaration of war, I intended to do a big launch on my website. I wanted to release a bunch of new designs and reintroduce myself. All of that has blown away, has gotten buried, under homework and world news and trying to spend time away from my screens. But I am here, and somehow feeling strangely robust. Because the promise I made one year ago, the one I’ve kept, is to show up for myself.
This post is a bit scrambled. I am exhausted for ten million reasons. But, I wanted to capture this moment before tomorrow came because I am proud of myself, and grateful for each of you who has encouraged me and who sees my art and feels something about it. If there’s anything I’ve been catching in the ether lately it’s this: to be here for each other, and to show up for ourselves, these are the greatest gifts we can give the world.
I can’t wait to share more with you. More work, more words, hopefully some laughter and perhaps a bit of heartbreak. All of it. Thank you for being here with me.