Making a Mess

I was at an art opening one evening, probably for a First Friday Art Trail, and someone I was speaking to looked at my hands aghast and asked "how did you hurt yourself?" I looked down and saw red paint spattered around my fingernails and on my knuckles. It looked like I had been sacrificing a chicken. Oops, more soap and water needed. Yes, I have spent my life making a mess. You can usually tell what I have been doing by what is clinging to me. If I am covered in dog hair I have been walking Penny. If little threads are clinging to my clothes and hair I have been quilting, and if I am sprinkled with lots of colour you can tell I have been painting. I also have a very small studio. It is also a mess. The walls and floors are flecked with paint and gesso, there are piles of projects in every corner, drawers and shelves of supplies, stacks of fabric, scraps of paper, canvasses, paints, brushes, magazines and books. The space is about eight feet square and includes a work table and a sink with cabinets. I seem to have outgrown it.

When I look at magazines that show artist's studios I have to laugh: everything pristine and organized. Cute cubbyholes, supplies ready at hand, neat stacks of projects arranged by use and need.....I almost weep in envy. But then I come back to reality and think of all the messy artists I have known, stained, disheveled, literally wearing their art on their sleeves. Creativity is messy. It starts with chaos and ends with beauty. So even though I dive into the chaos I try to be presentable. I clean up well. Still, if you see me at the grocery store and there is a smudge of ink over my eye or a blob of yellow paint in my hair just let me know.