These three cocoons recently found their home, all together, I like that.
The process of selling art online is a strange one.
I had forgotten my phone at home that day. (A lovely surprise) When I checked my email that evening after returning, there it was- the email saying that someone had decided to bring my art into her home. I was gob smacked for a minute, and then it hit me, the way it always does- that people want what I have made, what I have created with my two hands and heart.
I’m used to selling at art shows, introducing my art to people that are right in front of the work, touching and hearing the stories behind each piece. Setting up shop online removes that conversation, and it makes it harder to describe what I’m trying to do when I make art, especially the cocoons.
Harder might not be the right word… It’s more that I have to dig a little deeper, to make up for the lack of body language and physical proximity. Writing about my work has made me a better communicator of elusive feelings and forces me to construct words around the work of my hands. I’d much rather chat with someone, to have help in exploring our vocabulary to explain what each piece brings forth!
I love my online shop though, it connects me to people that I’ll probably never meet in person. It allows dear strangers to see what I have to offer the world, and invites them to join in.
All of this is to say, I suppose, thank you, and welcome!
Sometimes, we go dark. Sometimes we've beaten or ignored too long, too hard, to see the light anymore. Pushed back into the shadows, retreating to the night.
Yet, something still glimmers, your shield, your sword cobwebbed and dusty. Pick them up, feel the familiar weight of your own self-defense, tap back into your strength. Light the candle, roll your shoulders and square up to the darkness. Take it back.
This is to remind you that there is always a next step to take, even when your back is to the wall.