When the World is Difficult, Make Things.

Hi, Friends!

These last few months have been a whirlwind and frankly, it’s been hard to stay focused. The short version: there were lots of days where I felt restless, unmotivated, and disheartened (like, a lot). There’s plenty to be frustrated about these days, but being annoyed at myself for not finishing a dozen different projects I had going wasn’t helping me at all.

The thing was, though—through all of my frustration and sadness about some particular challenges and the general state of the world right now, I still felt this need to make something. To create something fun, maybe even lovely, and put it out into the world in the hopes that it might bring me some joy. And maybe bring someone else some joy, too.

My unfinished projects included two novels, several paintings, a pile of drawings, and a few half-carved lino blocks. On most days, none of those projects were appealing to me, and somehow they felt like huge hurdles to get over because I’d started them and decided they were garbage—or at the very least, not sparking any excitement. I’d sit at my desk and produce…nothing.

And then feel awful about it.

Then I found a studio near me that offers classes in both warm glass and ceramics—and an idea hit me.

Instead of forcing myself to work on projects that had me frustrated, why not try something new? Why not make some things just for the fun of it, with zero stakes? How about learning a new skill just for the sheer delight of it? You know, like I used to as a student.

That’s how I ended up taking a warm glass course. (For anyone who isn’t familiar, this is not “hot glass,” which involves fire, special gear, glassblowing and such. “Warm glass” involves assembly of glass pieces that you cut with small tools, arrange into designs, and then fire in a kiln. Look up “fused glass” and you’ll see some amazing work—fair warning, it’s a deep, delightful rabbit hole.)

For a couple of months now, I’ve been experimenting. Learning some new processes, working with a material that’s completely new to me. Letting go of my expectations for the outcome.

My only two rules: (1) Have fun. (2) Let go of perfectionism.

And it’s been amazing. A couple of sessions in, a switch flipped. I didn’t care if my work was flawless or beautiful, even—I was just enjoying learning a new craft and meeting other people who were into learning a new art form, too.

So far I’ve made some small plates, a garden stake, an ornament, and a wall hanging. Here are a few plates that just came out of the kiln:

I love the molds used for these, which create a modern-looking plate with a gentle curve. Each of these pieces were assembled by hand with no real patterns—just some imagination and patience. Then they were fired twice in the kiln—first to fuse the glass, then again to create the shape.

I’ll admit, I didn’t realize how much I missed being in a community studio and working alongside other artists—I haven’t had that in the three years since I moved from the mountains of North Carolina, where craft seems to be in everyone’s blood. I put this off for far too long and wish I’d done it sooner after we moved here—because while the art-making is important to me, the community is even more so. And I feel with my whole heart that right now, we need to lean into our communities more than ever.

So if, like me, you’re considering trying something new and keep talking yourself out of it, or you think you need permission to take time for yourself or pick up a new hobby that isn’t a side hustle (more thoughts about that later), then let me be the person who gives you an enthusiastic thumbs up and hollers, “Go have fun and do the thing!”

Take time for yourself. Do something that makes you happy. Make something, even if it’s not perfect. Especially if it’s not perfect. Making might be just the change you need right now.

Until next time,

Lauren