holding joy close
a creative endeavor just for me
Late Friday morning, I pedaled through the Brooklyn Navy Yard and up the incline of the Manhattan Bridge, swerved through cars and speeding ebikes, swiftly braked more times than I could count for New Yorkers who are always stepping into the street, and made my way West on 21st street. I had a plan: make beautiful floral bouquets to sell with my pottery over the weekend.
Playing with flowers is pure delight for me - an ideal creative outlet with the colors and the textures and the aliveness (and the eventual death) of it all. What if I can monetize this as a part of my practice, my entrepreneurial brain has been questioning. Following my ideas as I tend to do, I set up shop in my sweet Brooklyn neighborhood on Saturday, sitting with my pottery and flowers in the dappled light. I chatted with neighbors and met someone taking a pottery class who was thrilled to find me on her morning walk. I sold a vase, and then another. I sold a match holder, and then another. I sold a cute cup with boobs and two berry bowl colanders that never even made it to my webshop. No bouquets left my table.
I packed up after a while, feeling fueled by the conversations sparked over my pottery. But I couldn’t ignore a pang of disappointment in myself at my inability to sell any of the bouquets. Back in my home studio, I unpacked all my pieces and placed the bouquets around my home, setting aside a few to bring to my mug workshop in the garden the following day. I hadn’t made a dollar back on my flowers, so I vowed never to waste time biking to the flower district again!
That afternoon, as I made lemon bars, I glimpsed at a bouquet and my heart swelled a bit at the feathery wisp of a bud and how it gently draped down the side of the vase. That evening, eating dinner at the coffee table, I kept catching glances of a bouquet I had positioned under the bookshelves, it’s beauty understated and stunning. At my pottery workshop the next day, the flowers I had placed in mini vases on each table elevated the whole scene, adding a gentle flair that felt like me in flower form.
These flowers, that I hadn’t made a dollar on, had consistently brought me moments of joy over so many days. Starting with the adventure of procuring them to the delicious fun of organizing them into bouquets. They filled my home with beauty and brought an enchanting vibe to my pottery workshop. Quite simply, these flowers brought immense joy in multiple forms and there’s no reason why I need to make dollars back on that. Joy and creativity and beauty and fulfillment should be enough. Not every one of my creative endeavors needs to make money, some can be simply to fill myself up, to be tucked warmly into my memories and heart, a pleasure just for me.
May I find my way back to the flower district in Chelsea, for my fulfillment alone.
May we all find our life’s pleasures and have the space to keep some simply for our own joy.
I’m still relishing in a glow from the loveliest mug making workshop in a beautiful garden with a group of empowering and creative women last Sunday. It feels like the start of something special for me and I can’t wait to plan more in the coming months. You can see a few shots here, if you’d like.
A vibe collaged from Pinterest images:
My messy studio photo this week: little ladies slowly drying as they wait their turn for the kiln.
Thank you, thank you for being here and reading my words. x