Last week I told my husband, “My creativity is restless.”

“What does that even MEAN?”, he said.

If you’re an artist I’m sure you know what that means. Fingers crossed, I hope you know what that means. I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one this happens to. For me, this means I want to begin lots of projects even though I know there really isn’t time to complete them. I want to dabble with this & that, get my hands very dirty & see if it satisfies this something inside me that drives me to create.

Sometimes painting does that for me. Sometimes it’s doll making. Sometimes rearranging a room or sewing a pretty pair of curtains or a sweet ruffly linen chair pad, satisfies whatever that is.

Sometimes inspiration strikes hard; I work feverishly until my idea is complete. Then I get to sit back & look at this pretty thing I’ve made. I LOVE those moments.

But it doesn’t always happen like that. Sometimes, the idea changes or maybe it doesn’t even know what it wants to become. Sometimes, the original vision is completely lost. I appreciate those moments. It’s sort of like how we as people become. Gradually, with purpose.

For the past few weeks my creativity has been restless. Half-completed projects scattered about the house is evidence. And these are just the things that I actually began. My mind is filled with a checklist of projects.

Tiny paintings. Stuffed doll bodies. And naked dollies.

Paintings in various stages of completion.

Furniture that I need to finish painting & distressing because I want to make slipcovers for some wingback chairs that will eventually cozy up to this table.

And this is the kitty who helps me sprint from project to project although she prefers napping, chasing thread (while I’m sewing!) and chewing wool to actual work. But her cuteness makes up for the peskiness, I suppose.