Sailing The H.M.S. Process

Creation involves a little bit of destruction.

Or a lot, depending on how you work. 😉

Sometimes it feels like I spend more time tearing objects down than I do building them up. And I’m OK with that, because it’s all part of my creative process.

I’m finding more and more that I chose to repurpose a material I have rather than go out and buy something new and fresh to work with. Inevitably this means that my pieces involve some form of reverse engineering: ripping apart, cutting down, unraveling and rejigging.

This way of working has many pros…

1. It saves me money.
2. It encourages me to be more creative with resources.
3. It soothes the residual guilt I have over being an object maker in a world that maybe doesn’t need any more objects.

The bonus to repurposing a material is that it has been “worn in”. It possesses a patina – a shorthand, surface history of its life story that makes the material inherently more interesting than a brand new piece of fabric, paper, or what have you.

Feather maribou trim recouped from a vintage evening dress. Originally a bright, pale yellow I considered washing it to rinse away the decades of dirt, but for the piece I have in mind it is perfect in its sullied state.

That’s not to say there aren’t downsides of working this way…

1. You become obsessive about not throwing anything away. EVER.
2. You have to have space to store all those potentially useful things.
3. You need to develop a system to organize your salvaged materials or you’ll never know what you’ve got/be able to find it and then what’s the point of keeping it? (This is technically only a downside if you AREN’T a control freak who actually enjoys organizing and classifying your re-purposables. I’m a Virgo. I seriously live for this organizational shit. Yeah, I probably should have listed this as a “pro”).

I’ve always been a hoarder resourceful, squirreling away anything that might be remotely useful. You never know when those braided nylon handles from every single gift bag you’ve ever come in contact with might come in handy.

This braided handle may have a second, arty life as beautiful, blonde tresses once it is gently unraveled.

Sometimes you’d never be able to guess the materials’ or objects’ original use.

A paperclip is transformed into adjustable suspender hardware.

The warts on rubber witch noses become uncanny nipples.

The corded trim of an old wool blanket is untwisted to become fur.

Sometimes the transformation is merely in scale.

A blown out pair of jeans becomes a tinier pair of jeans (or plural – tinier pairs of jeans).

A shirt that doesn’t fit anymore or has become too worn out becomes a miniature version of itself.

Scrapbooking fasteners that resemble cute, wee buttons are modified, and suddenly they are fulfilling the function they previously only promised.

When I’m navigating uncharted waters – as I do when I start a new series – I like to have Experimentation and Play at the helm of my studio ship.

Nothing gives me more joy than starting the journey with a vague idea of what I’m hoping to create and then sifting through my (mostly) organized booty (aka chests of treasure, aka bins of stuff).

Can I point out that the allusion here is that I’m a pirate – an Art Pirate? I always wanted to be a pirate…

It’s the search to find The Thing that could be the solution to my creative quest that makes the voyage fun, my friends. Looking at a material and imagining its potential – the many ways in which it might be used and transformed – is my studio turn-on.

It’s THE number one reason I relish what I do.

What part of YOUR work process floats your boat? Please share in the comments!