Why I create...
at least partly.
Partly, at least for me as a little kid, because creating a world that I could escape into made me feel safe. It enveloped me, like a layer of protective skin. It kept out the anger, fear and screaming. When I was very little, tucked in to my closet, surrounded by dolls, we were all safe. I talked to them, I kept them fed, I drew their pictures, I listened to their stories. So many, many sad stories. Because all those screaming wounds. You take them with you, into that closet.
My current studio is about 90 square feet. It used to be a dining room in this old house we live in. it holds my clay, paints, fabric, chisels, tools, wood, work table, a small tablesaw, and oh, our bed. It’s kinda the best closet ever. It is surrounded by love, quiet and peace. it usually has a dog and a cat in it. My beautiful family comes in and out all day, I am often kissed and hugged. It is my safe space and my creative space. I am here all of the time. I am driven to listen to stories of little people that I make of clay and fabric and wood. That need is engrained deeply through me.
I started making dolls fairly soon after I cut some pretty damaging members out of my family. It was strange- they left and were almost immediately dolls started pouring out of me. I think I never felt comfortable making something so personal with those voices still around me.
The wounds I bring in to my workshop with me aren’t as raw anymore, they don’t scream, ninety percent of the times I don’t even notice them, but- fuck. they’re still there, sometimes they whisper, sometimes they cry. I forget about them for years and years, and then they reappear. And the dolls are still mostly sad.
If you a creator- why do you create? I’m curious the reasons other folks are driven to do these things.
This originally appeared on my Instagram and generated some interesting conversations…