Creative Handmade Quotes

When we merely follow another, we take a potentially creative mind out of service-our own.

Either way, it's important that we all remember to play. Watching and being inspired by our uninhabited little ones can lead us in all manner of wonderful, creative, and different directions if we're open to following them.

It is often assumed that the chief reason for making things—furniture, clothing, toys, a garden—is to save money. There are other factors that may be of equal or greater importance: making what we need for life is a way of expressing creativity and of gaining greater confidence. Emotional security comes from providing the necessities of life in personal, meaningful ways, by our own hands or those of friends and loved ones. Another value in studying how things are made is to increase our appreciation for them as we better understand what makes them work. The knowledge that comes from shaping the things around us helps us build relationships with the world that are more intimate.

All I know is that we, none of us, have much time on this earth. We are each here for a short while. There will be evidence if we choose to do this creative work. We need to make things that leave a mark, a good mark, one that says someone was here trying to do something of value. Speak up, pass along the knowledge that we have so that others may benefit from it and make a life for themselves. Show that the act of forgiveness is one of our most important tasks. Leave good evidence of yourself. Do good work.

I think the desire to create will last all my life – I realize that the time for me to be that person has not been available, or should I say right – I have become aware that the young stage of my children’s life is passing and there will be more time for me later – it’s too easy to be a “want it now” person. But I am so glad that I will have more time very soon. Without doubt though, as luck would have it, the very best thing I have ever made is my children. I feel my spirit rise as I listen to Elizabeth’s words, and so I reach over and take the bowl… Before I had children I had a dream. A dream of the sort of mama I wanted to be. One who always had a homemade cake in a pretty tin and a jar of homemade cookies, a stylish handmade home with French-print curtains, a carefully tended cottage garden, lots of time to play together outside and making all our own Christmas presents. Happy children, happy stay-at-home mama and a beautiful life.

I have to remember as well that I am in a race. Oh, people will say that I’m not competing against anyone. That’s not true. I am competing against time and I will lose. We all lose. In the time that I have, what will I accomplish? Will I give up and say the race is too long or too fast, too hard? Will I tire out early? I am in a race to do my work, the best work I can possibly do. It is important to keep my standards high while others are slacking off saying it’s too hard. It’s supposed to be hard; otherwise, everyone would do it. It’s supposed to make us whine and carp about the pace or the failures we encounter or the simple fact that some days I suck at this work that I have chosen. We all of us feel this way at some time. Then we sleep on it or go for a walk, sit with a friend, or stare out at the mountain. This work is also what makes us feel right. The race is with myself, making myself better each time I go to the bench or the easel or the drawing board. Making sure that I am improving my skills, and staying curious, and getting better at my work each day.

One of my best friends is LinDee Loveland, who is a Bible teacher at OCS and the children’s minister at our church. She and another friend and teacher, Mrs. Rita, were there at the hospital with us. As soon as they heard that everything had gone well, the two of them gathered all of Mia’s cousins together. “Missy, what’s Mia’s room number?” LinDee asked. I rattled it off, then quickly caught up with Jase, who was heading to the recovery room. We spent an hour in the recovery room with Mia, and when she was ready to be moved to her regular hospital room, Jase and I walked beside her gurney. When we walked into her room, I burst into tears. Mia’s room was beautiful! Several weeks before Mia’s scheduled surgery, Mrs. LinDee had asked the children at church to make snowflakes that would be given to a child who needed some encouragement. Mia even made one herself and signed it. “Each individual snowflake is special, and no two are alike,” Mrs. LinDee told them. “It’s the same way with us,” she shared. “No two people are alike. God makes everyone unique and special, with a purpose designed to glorify Him.” Later, when Mia wasn’t there, she asked all the children to make cards for Mia. When LinDee and the cousins scooted out of the waiting room, they went straight to Mia’s room and hung up the cards and the snowflakes all over her room. Mia was awake by the time she got back to her room, and when she saw the decorations, she literally oohed and ahhed. Dr. Sperry and Dr. Genecov both made the same comment when they visited Mia later. “I’ve never seen a room like this! This is the most decorated room that’s ever been in this hospital!” And Dr. Sperry summed it up beautifully: “Wow, somebody must really love you.” Having a room decorated means so much to a child--and maybe even more to a child’s parents. The fact that so many of Mia’s friends had created such exquisite, handmade snowflakes and worked so hard to make cards for her, and that Mrs. LinDee, Mrs. Rita, and all the cousins surprised us with the final display, spoke volumes to me about the way people loved Mia and our family. That expression of creativity was not only beautiful, it also touched my heart deeply.

When problems occur they suck up all the air in the shop. They are gigantic, cataclysmic, insurmountable. I was lucky that day that Jane was there to yell some sanity into me and bring me back to a normal time and space. If you do not have this life preserver nearby, then quickly walk away from the problem. Walk away and let it shrink back to its normal size so a solution can enter the room.

Failure is how we learn. We acknowledge our ignorance first and ask for help. We try to correct it.

The truth is that one of the hardest things I had to learn is how to fail. Henry Petroski is an author and professor of civil engineering at Duke University. One of the overarching concerns in his books is the importance of failure and its importance in how we design and how we learn. Read his wonderful book, The Evolution of Useful Things. Inventors design things because they are driven by the perceived failure of a current design. Is a function being properly performed or can it be improved? Petroski understands the necessity of failure in order to push an idea forward, whether it be on an engineering problem or one of technique or design. He quotes Thomas Edison: “Genius. Sticking to it is the genius . . . I failed my way to success.

At the bench, the problem is always me. It is never the tools but how I handle them. It is not the work that is hard, it is managing my emotions that is the task. Working through the boredom, handling the mistakes, managing my patience, learning from my errors. This is the challenge.

I have come to this bittersweet realization about my choices in life as well. Life doesn’t care. No one gets a participation award from life. If I die tomorrow, I will be gone, a few will weep my passing, and then the waters will close over me and my presence will be mostly forgotten by all the others desperately trying to live their own lives. Life doesn’t concern itself with whether I live or die. The universe, on the other hand, has a great interest in me while I live. The universe listens.

Neither approach works by itself. One gives us only product, the other only process. To be an artist in the world today requires a blending of the two in order to survive, to succeed in making and selling your work. This has to be done in a way that feeds your soul, not saps it. Pirsig posed this dilemma in Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. It was his understanding that these two views of the world have to merge in order for anyone to be at peace in the world. Technology is not bad in itself. It is how it is used and the effect it has on the maker, the builder, and the mechanic that’s crucial. He understood that the classic mode is primarily theoretic but has its own aesthetic. The romantic mode is primarily aesthetic but also has theory. The two can merge and work together at the bench. Pirsig’s goal was to bring these two points of view together to find the essence of Quality. Preintellectual awareness was how he put it. Understanding something before your mind could name it. It’s not just seeing the tool on the bench and your knowledge and experience of what it can do, but seeing it and knowing the feel of it in your hand. One combines these two senses together in a preintellectual awareness in order to understand Pirsig’s notion of Quality, his Zen approach to living and being in the world.

The dominant cultural paradigm that we are sold now of living faster, buying more or bigger or faster, is not for me. That’s one way to live. There is another. To slow down. To try to do your best work. To make your efforts count. My father taught me many things that made me punish myself for not being good enough, but he also taught me that valuable attitude about doing the job right.

Practice is the key. If you can learn the discipline to practice, one day you will surprise yourself by how much you have learned, how much you have taught yourself.

Very innovative companies, such a Twitter, know how important this type of cross-pollination is to creativity in their businesses, and they make an effort to hire people with unusual skills, knowing that diversity of thinking will certainly influence the development of their products. According to Elizabeth Weil, the head of organizational culture at Twitter, a random sampling of people at the company would reveal former rock stars, a Rubik’s cube champion, a world-class cyclist, and a professional juggler. She said that the hiring practices at Twitter guarantee that all employees are bright and skilled at their jobs, but are also interested in other unrelated pursuits. Knowing this results in random conversations between employees in the elevator, at lunch, and in the hallways. Shared interests surface, and the web of people becomes even more intertwined. These unplanned conversations often lead to fascinating new ideas. Elizabeth is a great example herself; she is a top ultramarathon runner, professional designer, and former venture capitalist. Although these skills aren’t required in her day-to-day work at Twitter, they naturally influence the ideas she generates. Her artistic talents have deeply influenced the ways Elizabeth builds the culture at Twitter. For instance, whenever a new employee starts, she designs and prints a beautiful handmade welcome card on her 1923 antique letterpress.

As I was heeding gravity’s pull down the hill, I also heard music coming from upstairs. Three instruments, a violin, a flute, and a cello, were playing in a second-floor apartment. They were murdering a piece by Bach, I think. The murder was not in question, I just wasn’t sure if it was Bach or Haydn or someone else being killed upstairs. I stopped dead in my tracks to listen to them. They played with such a confident erring. On they stumbled and they never stopped to correct themselves. They pushed forward through their mistakes to the end. I applauded. I had to. I’m not sure they noticed me, but what luck for me to witness their attempt that morning. I looked out at the bay. What fine luck. Moments like the soloist practicing scales in Portland and the trio murdering Bach in Iceland give me such energy and such hope. These musicians were playing loud for all to hear and tough luck to the world if it was not perfect and the world judged them harshly. There is only one way to the proficiency of the master, and the budding violinist knew it as did the trio. Practice. Keep practicing until the notes have the precision they require. Keep practicing until the work is transformed, until the work transforms you, until study becomes Mastery.

The problem at the bench isn’t the work, the challenges, or the mistakes—it is always me.