Laptops & Tablets & Smartphones, Oh My!

I spent nine years of my former life as a corporate drone working for a telecom company in Alaska. During that period, the company went on to become one of the first fully integrated telecom service providers in the country. Professionally, those were some of the best years of my career. Personally? Not so much.

I was wired to the hilt. Even back then when wireless technology was relatively new and still extremely limited in rural Alaska, I was virtually accessible to my employer around the clock. I worked from home. I worked from the office. I traveled to some of the most remote regions of the state, and I was always tethered to my job by technology.

To say my personal life suffered would be to imply that I actually had a personal life. I didn’t. I was married to my job, and not necessarily unhappily so. Not for the first seven or eight years, anyway; but as unbalanced marriages inevitably do, mine eventually crumbled. I was struck with the harsh realization on a redeye flight home to Alaska after visiting family in Colorado that, for someone so thoroughly connected through technology, I was woefully disconnected from the things that actually matter in life: friends, family, nature–the kinds of relationships that actually feed a spirit rather than isolate the spirit with the illusion of connectedness while slowly starving it to death.

That startling realization marked the beginning of the end of my marriage to my employer. I quit my job a few months later, and I spent most of the following year getting reacquainted with myself. I disconnected all but the most essential communication services, and I refocused all of my attention on things that actually mattered, like my hopes, dreams, and creative impulses. I also moved back to Colorado that year, and thank goodness I did because I’d have never met and married my husband had I not cut those cords.

Today marks the tenth anniversary of my return to Colorado. Ten years of being mostly unplugged from technology, and now I find myself being steadily reeled back into that tangled web. I suppose that’s a hazard of starting an online business–or any business, for that matter. This time, though, I’m determined to maintain a much healthier work/life balance because this time I do have a personal life. And a pretty wonderful one at that.

 

 

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You’ll Know Your Work is Getting Noticed When…

…the Internet trolls start hating on you. It’s one of those things you always half expect to happen as a working artist (or just as a healthy, functioning human being who interacts with the outside world, I suppose), but it’s no less shocking or upsetting when it finally does happen.

My initiation to the sad, twisted world of unhappy Etsy trolls happened today. Mere minutes after receiving a new order and while still riding the high I get when I’m preparing a shipment for a new customer, I opened my email to find this:

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Initially, I intended to show my sweet little troll’s user name to properly call her out as the shameful coward that she is, but a quick Bing search suggested that, although it’s likely this handle is used by one individual all over social media, it’s equally possible that there is more than one person going by that name. I don’t want to inadvertently disparage someone by that same name who does not run around the Internet verbally attacking people behind the guise of a nameless, faceless Etsy user profile. So, I’ll just refer to this individual as My Pet Troll or MPT from now on.

I replied immediately to MPT and invited her (I presume she’s female, based on her user name) to a very open and honest discussion about which pieces in my shop she feels are stolen. Needless to say, the response to my invitation has been deafening silence thus far. I’ll let you know if she does accept my invitation to hash things out.

Here’s the thing: an unfortunate reality of being a working artist and throwing your work out there for all the world to see is that people are going to knock off your designs. That’s just the nature of art as a business. If I had a dime for every one of my designs that I’ve seen pinned to someone’s “Projects to Try” board on Pinterest, I’d make way more money than I’ve made from sales of those same designs through my Etsy shop. The numbers aren’t even in the same ballpark, as a matter of fact. One of my most popular items on Pinterest, my Trumpet Vine Earrings (pictured below), has been pinned nearly 1000 times through multiple image sources to inspiration boards all over Pinterest. I’ve yet to sell the first pair of those earrings, which is a shame because they are truly lovely. Photos simply don’t do them justice, but I digress.

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Am I under any illusion that people aren’t already knocking off this lovely earring design? Nope!

Do I care? Honestly… a little, but not as much as you might think. For one thing, I know perfectly well that I’ve drawn inspiration from other wireworkers while honing my own wire work skills over the past several years. I still draw inspiration from other artists, to some degree, though the field of artists who inspire me narrows as quickly as my own design skills and confidence improve. I don’t believe I’ve ever overtly stolen another artist’s designs, but I’d be lying if I said I never got ideas from other people’s work. I don’t live in a bubble. I see all the same things on Pinterest as everyone else who shares my interest in wire jewelry, and with a nearly photographic memory for things that catch my eye, it’s virtually impossible to erase anything I’ve ever seen from my mind.

One of the ways I strive to stay true to my own creativity is that I don’t keep any visual references within eyesight while I work. My laptop is not even in the same room while I am designing, and I have to get out of my chair and walk clear across the room to reach my bookshelves if I need to refer to a book or magazine article for technical reference. The only time I keep a visual reference in front of me is if I am consciously recreating a project from a purchased tutorial or book, and as of last year, I’ve stopped purchasing books or tutorials for wire wrapped jewelry, which is my primary discipline. I reserve browsing Pinterest, Instagram, and Facebook for times when I am away from my workbench and out of work mode, and then I consciously stay off the Internet and away from photographic images of jewelry when I sit down to work.

I’ve also been signing up for a few classes in other jewelry making disciplines, such as bead embroidery and micro macramé, for two reasons: First I feel it’s important to give myself a mental and physical break from wire wrapping now and then. Secondly, I’m interested in further setting my work apart from other wire artists by integrating other techniques and disciplines that interest me.

If you’ve been paying attention to the progression of my work, you’ve probably noticed that I’m starting to do a lot of multi-media pieces, like this Starfish Necklace, which I recently completed in response to a design challenge proposed by micro macramé artist extraordinaire, Sherri Stokey of Knot Just Macramé on the wonderful blog to which Sherri contributes, Love My Art Jewelry:

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My system for maintaining design integrity isn’t perfect. I don’t doubt that the work of certain artists I admire clearly influences my own work, and I openly address that fact in my product descriptions as well as in my Etsy profile. Short of properly crediting those artists when I do create something designed or inspired by them and continually policing the visuals available to me while I am in design mode, I don’t know what else I can do to ensure that my designs are purely and clearly my own.

Several hours after reaching out to her, I’m still waiting for MPT to tell me which of my designs she believes have been stolen from another artist, but I won’t be surprised if I never hear from her again. Not directly, anyway. If she stays true to the tried and true Internet troll formula, she may very well start anonymously bashing my work on every social media platform where I have a presence. And my response will remain the same. I’ll invite her to engage with me in a civil discussion about my work so we can get to the bottom of this “creative theft” nonsense.

Thankfully, I recently had a very different conversation with a happy repeat customer who sincerely admires my work. Had I not already been actively engaging in a discussion about the evolution of personal design style, my response to MPT might have been far less calm and rational, so I owe this wonderful customer a huge debt of gratitude for that as well as for her continued encouragement and support.

According to this lovely lady, who makes no effort at all to hide her true identity in her own Etsy profile by the way, my work has a certain recognizable style that she feels she could identify even if not clearly credited to me. That, of course, is the highest compliment any artist can ever hope to receive. That unique individual style is what every working artist strives to achieve because no one with even a modicum of integrity wants to be accused of creative theft.

Life is hard enough without hating on random strangers we encounter on the Internet, isn’t it? One of the things I told my lovely customer, who is also a jewelry maker, is that there’s more than enough room at the table for all of us because we all have something unique and special to offer the world. I hope to be the sort of artist who encourages up and coming artists to spread their wings and fly.

I’m on the fence as to whether or not I’ll start offering any of my designs for sale as tutorials or start formally teaching classes. Part of the challenge of that for me is that I’m left handed, so writing tutorials and taking photos that will make sense to everyone may be tricky. That said, I trust that those who admire my work will treat my designs as respectfully as they’d like me to treat their own designs. If we all do that, we’ll all thrive. Believe it or not, there are enough potential customers and admirers out there for all of us.

A message for MPT, on the offhand chance she’s reading this: There’s no reason to be so mean and spiteful. If you feel strongly that someone is stealing another artist’s work, it’s not unreasonable to confront her about it, but do it respectfully and don’t hide behind an anonymous user profile. Any artist who is worth her salt will welcome a respectful dialog about the origins of her designs, just as I have.

Life is short, people–much too short for petty nonsense from nameless, faceless trolls. Do what you love, do it with integrity, and never let the haters bring you down.

 

Jeanne’s Jewelry

Sometimes you just know. It’s the perfect fit. The perfect color. You’ve finally met the right guy (after dating far too many of the wrong guys for more years than you care to admit). Whatever it is, the knowledge that it’s right rings through me like a bell–it’s an unmistakable sensation of vibration that I feel in my gut.

This sort of sensation doesn’t happen often when it comes to jewelry, but it did happen with this particular piece. By the time I made this necklace, I’d known my best friend Jenn for a few years, and I’d had the good fortune to meet her wonderful parents, Jim and Jeanne Snyder, a few times. I never got to know the Snyders as well as I’d have liked, but I always enjoyed spending time with them when they came to visit their daughter and grandson in Colorado.

303347_3671647671495_1559578393_nWhen I finished this particular necklace, I knew immediately that Jeanne was its rightful owner. That unmistakable hum rang through my body and Jeanne’s name popped into my head. She’d wanted me to make something for her for a while by this point, but I hadn’t been able to come up with anything that I felt suited her. When I started making this necklace, I didn’t have anyone in particular in mind. The moment it was finished, though, it basically told me it was for Jeanne. It’s funny how intuition works. It’s impossible to explain, and it always sort of surprises me when I get such strong intuitive kicks in the gut, but I’ve learned to simply accept them as the divine guidance they’ll inevitably reveal themselves to be in hindsight at some point down the road.

In addition to being my best friend, Jenn is also my muse when it comes to jewelry design. We have similar styles and interests, which certainly helps, but it’s more than that. There’s just something about her that inspires me to create some pretty fabulous designs. Three of my all-time favorite pieces of jewelry happen to be pieces I made for her. It’s also through jewelry that I formed an important connection with Jenn’s mom. Jeanne always admired my jewelry and encouraged me to sell my work. As she had a strong design background, I appreciated her support and encouragement more than she’d ever know.

Sadly, Jeanne passed away last year, so I never got the chance to properly thank her for encouraging me to pursue jewelry making full time. When I finally decided to get off the fence and open Door 44 Jewelry a couple of months ago, however, I did so with a strong sense that Jeanne would approve. It may be too late to personally thank Jeanne Snyder for her support and encouragement where my craft is concerned, but it’s never too late to honor our guiding angels.

I never made this design again after I made Jeanne’s necklace because I felt so strongly that it was her design. In talking with Jenn, though, I realized that Jeanne would want me to share her design. And then it happened again–that intuitive kick in the gut–I knew immediately how I could share Jeanne’s design and honor her memory in a meaningful way: Jeanne’s Jewelry!

I’ve created a special section at Door 44 Jewelry called Jeanne’s Jewelry. This section will be regularly stocked with pieces based on Jeanne’s original necklace design along with a selection of other pieces of my work that I know Jeanne would have loved. 25% of the purchase price of all Jeanne’s jewelry will be donated to her favorite charity: the St. Vincent De Paul Society of Ann Arbor. All donations will be made in loving memory of Dr. James C. Snyder and Jeanne Snyder, beloved parents, grandparents, friends, and life-long patrons of the arts.

I Have a Thing for Connections

For as long as I can remember, I’ve felt compelled to connect the dots all around me. As a child, I remember observing strange and erratic behavior in many of the adults in my life. My childhood was, well… let’s just say it was chaotic at best. The way that I coped with the chaos is that I learned to order it.

I started paying attention to the nature of cause and effect, and the more I paid attention to those things, the more I began to see how all things are connected. The more I understood those connections, the more I was able to create some semblance of order in a world that could erupt in chaos at any moment.

Creating jewelry is, for me, a personal expression of my understanding of connections. I suppose that’s why I’m so intensely (perhaps even compulsively) drawn to art forms that involve connections. As I look around at my workspace and the materials I choose to work with, what jumps out at me is that they all have one thing in common: they’re all used for various forms of weaving.

The chains I weave are intricately connected together, link by link, in various forms that are as pleasing to the eye and to touch as they are mechanically strong and sound. The wire work that I do is similar to basket weaving in that it allows me to create forms that are both functional and beautiful. More importantly, it allows me to create forms that will last. Pieces that are timeless.

As I begin my foray into working with knotting cords and micro macramé, I find myself once again exploring an art form that centers on connections. What starts out on my workbench as a chaotic jumble of individual cords gradually comes together to form a cohesive, ordered design. The sum of those once chaotic and disconnected individual parts join together as one to create a beautifully ordered and functional whole.

 

I create jewelry in order to make sense of the chaos around me. And through the process of creating, I rediscover daily how I am connected to everything and everyone else around me. When you like a piece of Door 44 Jewelry that you see on Facebook, Pinterest or Twitter, I feel an instant connection to you. When you buy a piece of Door 44 Jewelry, I’m acutely aware of all the connections that might come from that single exchange–from my hands to yours–for better or worse.

Perhaps that piece will go on to form another link in a chain of sisterhood, from your hands to those of someone you love. Maybe even on through multiple generations from you to a daughter, granddaughter, or niece who may pass it on again to the next generation of women of your family–all of whom will be irrevocably connected to me and perhaps my own daughter, should she choose to follow in my footsteps.

Jewelry, as it turns out, is a wonderful means for me to connect with my 12-year-old stepdaughter. We’ve only known one another for about three years now, and we still have a great deal to learn about each other. But I do know for certain that we share a common love of jewelry. Teaching her to make jewelry and to appreciate it is proving to be perhaps the most powerful path toward an unbreakable bond that we share at this fragile phase of our mother/daughter relationship.

A dear friend got me thinking today about why I make jewelry, and what (ultimately) I hope to achieve by sharing my jewelry with you. I realized that the heart of the matter is this: Our mutual love and appreciation for beauty is what binds us together. We may have disparate political ideologies or wildly different world views that seem to divide us. What inevitably binds us together, though–what restores our sense of connectedness–is a return to those essential elements of life for which we all share a mutual appreciation: love, beauty and harmony. Sisterhood. Compassion…

 

Jewelry is all about connections, and I have a thing for connections.

Thanks for allowing me to connect with you today.

Whiplash

Change is good, right? Change means growth. Progress. New directions, perhaps?

When I was young and single, I was also fairly driven and focused. I set goals, and I went after them. When one goal was achieved, I set another one and went after it with a single-minded ferocity unique to those who are responsible only for themselves. The operative word here, of course, is “I”.

It’s easy to be goal oriented and focused when you’re the center of your own universe. Add a husband and daughter to that equation, however, and all that drive has to soften. The focus expands to a broader perspective. The single-minded ferocity gets redirected from personal interests to family interests. And personal goals? Well, they get prioritized along with everyone else’s.

It’s been three months since my last post. When I wrote that post, I believed wholeheartedly that I’d have my real estate license by now, and I’d be working full time in sales. It was easily an attainable goal, until it wasn’t. By the end of November, it was clear that my husband needed to find a new job soon. On Christmas day, we got a huge wake-up call in the form of a major medical event on my side of the family. By the second week of January, the instability at my husband’s workplace came to a head, and we went from a single income to no income at all.

Dead end. Time to change directions.

Matt found a new job quickly. He started today, as a matter of fact, so he was unemployed for just one month. We did what we could to make the best of the situation. We tightened our budget and prepared ourselves for what could have been an extended period without a steady income. The fact that he was home during the day and able to shuttle our daughter back and forth to school between job interviews gave me an unexpected opportunity to spend a few precious days with my best friend, Jenn, before she moves to Reno, Nevada this month. As an added bonus, the eleven hours of solitude I had during the drive to and from Jenn’s current address in Kansas gave me a welcome opportunity to think, refocus, and reprioritize.

Real estate is my dream job, but unfortunately, it’s also a job for which you have to spend money to make money. The loss of Matt’s income made me realize that we’re not quite in a place where we can comfortably afford to finance the pursuit of my dream job. We have more important objectives to meet first.

So, the dream job is on hold for now. Losing our sole income, even if only briefly, made it clear that what we really need is multiple streams of income. The steadier, the better. Real estate hardly fits the bill as it provides sporadic income at best in the first year, yet the expenses are both immediate and steady.

Another change of direction.

I’ve resisted selling my jewelry for as long as I’ve been making it, but desperate times call for drastic measures: Door 44 Jewelry was launched on January 28th. I’ve also resisted going back to my old line of work, but there are times to do what you want to do, and there are times to do what you must.

Let’s see where this new road leads…

 

Back in the Creative Groove

The original intent of this blog was to share my jewelry, my creative process, and the ways in which my life influences my jewelry and vice versa. My plan at the beginning of 2013 was to step my life-long jewelry hobby up to a business, but I got married that year instead.

I thought I’d try again to launch the jewelry business in 2014, but instead I became a full-time mom when my stepdaughter came to live with her father and me. The first half of 2015 was an absolute whirlwind with job changes and lawyers and school and cello lessons and moving to a new city, but things are starting to settle down now, and I’m finally finding the time to get back to my personal goals.

Having been out of the daily habit of making jewelry for a very long time, I decided to get back into the groove by honing my metalworking skills and experimenting with some new wire-wrapping techniques. The following images are the results of some of my first focused attempts at wire work in… well… a very long time.

Nicole Hanna of Nicole Hanna Jewelry has long been an inspiration for me. Where she finds the time and energy to do all that she does is beyond me, but besides making gorgeous jewelry and writing fabulous tutorials for aspiring wire wrappers, she also runs a great page on Facebook that’s become a sort of gathering place where artists help artists by sharing tips, techniques, and tutorials. The page is relatively new, but I’m amazed by how quickly its membership has exploded, and that’s largely because Nicole has a huge following in the wire wrapped jewelry world. Seriously, if you’ve never heard of her, it must be because you’re not a wire worker. Or a hand crafted jewelry lover.

Anyway, long story short, Nicole has this way of getting people to step out of their comfort zone and create stuff they might not ordinarily attempt. This month she issued a challenge for group members to create something with a leaf theme using only wire, a single bead, and no tools besides wire cutters and a single pair of jewelry pliers.

Sounds simple, right? Well, it’s not. Particularly if you’ve taken a couple of years away from wire work in order to focus one some huge life changes. Add to that the fact that I love tools. I generally work with a minimum of three different sets of pliers, so committing to using a single pair for this challenge was almost physically painful for me. This piece fought me every inch of the way. I scrapped my first attempt and restarted the design. I broke several wires. Nothing flowed properly or ended up looking quite the way I saw it in my mind, but I finally ended up with a piece I liked enough to submit for the contest. And then I broke the bead while I was doing the final polish. Ugh! Another repair (and more wire added to my scrap bin), another round of the whole clean/patina/clean/polish routine (my least favorite part of the whole process); and this is the result of all that wire and frustration (not to mention some pretty colorful language):

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Dew-laden Aspen Leaf – design inspired by Nicole Hanna of Nicole Hanna Jewelry.

It’s my interpretation of a dew-laden Aspen leaf in the fall. The colors are peaking here in Colorado this week, so it’s a timely tribute to my favorite season. The design is also a nod to Nicole Hanna’s style, which I adore even though I’ve never quite been able to do her designs justice.

As a jewelry artist, I don’t wear a lot of jewelry that I didn’t make myself, but I make an exception for Nicole’s work. I own three Nicole Hanna originals, and I gush about her work like a proud parent whenever someone compliments me on one of those pieces.

The second big challenge I took on this week was a pair of earrings designed by another jewelry rock star whose work I shamelessly worship. I mentioned Sarah Thompson in  a previous post after I’d taken her online course through Craftsy.com. I first discovered Sarah’s work a couple of years ago while I was looking for wire wrapped inspiration on Etsy. It was there that I first saw her Scorpio earrings, and I fell in love with her work the moment I laid eyes on them. As luck would have it, Sarah included that particular earring design in her new book, Fine Art Wire Weaving.

Here’s my first attempt at that design:

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Scorpio Earrings – Design by Sara Thompson

Fricken fabulous, aren’t they? I can’t begin to explain how inspiring her work is, so go check it our yourself at Sarah-n-Dippity! And tell her I said hello. Cuz that’s not creepy at all.

Now that I’m finally back to focusing on jewelry, this blog might start to have fewer words and more pictures. Probably not a bad thing, given my tendency to ramble.

Oh, one more thing… Welcome to all the new followers I’ve picked up over the past few weeks. Thank you for taking the time to read and share my blog.

Now, go make something beautiful!

Taking the Plunge

Earrings 037I’ve been talking about this since 2010 when I found myself suddenly, if not unexpectedly, free of the soul sucking Twin Vortices of Evil. Back then, making jewelry was my particular brand of therapy. Hammering wire was a safe and welcome release for the pent up frustration that comes from working within a spiritually draining organization while weaving chain and wrapping wire gave me the sense of achievement that my day job failed to provide.

Since then, my path from hobbyist to professional jeweler has proceeded in a two steps forward; three steps back fashion of fits and starts. I realized recently, after reading a wonderful post from Charrette Metal Crafts, that the one thing that has been keeping me from taking the plunge into entrepreneurship is fear—not the fear of failure, which would actually make sense, but a completely irrational fear of success. As 2015 approaches, however, I’m finding my stride. I’m finally ready to move beyond the fear and take the plunge into self-employment.

Door 44 Designs is beginning to take shape, and my jewelry will soon be available for sale online. In the meantime, I’ve renamed my blog to more accurately reflect what I’ve always intended it to be: a behind-the-scenes glimpse into my creative process along with my thoughts about life, art, and the myriad connections I find between the two.

I’m excited to unveil my re-branded blog, BeyondDoor44.com, and I look forward to connecting with you there. Thank you so much for reading, following, liking, and sharing my posts. I’ve met some wonderful people here—some truly amazing artists—and I learn something new every day from your insightful posts and comments. So, thank you, too, for sharing your own unique perspectives.

Life is short. Don’t let the fear of success stop you from doing what you love.

Thank You

I’ve picked up several followers recently, and I’d like to thank everyone who has taken the time to read and share my posts. I truly appreciate your following, and I look forward to getting to know you better.

As I mentioned in my initial post, this blog was originally intended to be a place where I share my thoughts about life, love and art with my own handcrafted jewelry providing a foundation for those discussions. I haven’t had an opportunity to make much jewelry lately, but here are a few photos of some of my favorite pieces.

Blue Moon Rising – Blue Lapis in copper wire-wrapped frames with handwoven copper chain

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Colorado Sunset – Carnelian, amethyst, and turquoise in copper wire-wrapped frames with handwoven copper chain

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One of my favorite everyday pieces (unnamed) – wire-wrapped arrowhead in copper horseshoe frame with handwoven copper spiral chain

These pieces are indicative of my work. I grew up in the southwest, and I think that influence shows clearly in the style of jewelry that I make and wear. I’m working hard to carve some studio space out of our small 2-bedroom apartment so I can get back to making jewelry full time, and I look forward to having some new ideas to share soon.

Thanks again for stopping by!

What’s Behind Door 44?

The number 44 has become something of a special totem for me. For the past several years, I’ve noticed that this number crops up frequently in my life. I see it on clocks, purchase receipts, license plates–it’s pretty much everywhere I look. And when something repeats that persistently in my life, I pay attention.

I turned 44 last August. I’ve known for a while now that this would prove to be a significant year, so I was definitely looking forward to it. Yet, even while anticipating a monumental year, I’ve been surprised by some of the amazing things that have happened in the past nine months. By the end of October 2013, I’d quit my job, sold my house, and moved to Denver (a city I’d resisted for many years). My husband, Matt, and I got married on October 29, 2013 in what must seem like an incredibly impulsive act to the friends and family who have known me to be generally cautious and methodical when it comes to major life decisions.

I finally completed the college degree program I started years ago–a BSIT with an accounting specialization–in March. My degree was conferred on May 4th, but after nearly twenty years of working in the corporate world, I don’t have a burning desire to re-immerse myself in that world. The older I get, the clearer it becomes that I’m not cut out to be a corporate drone; and for the first time in my adult life, I am completely free to choose what to do with my time and energy. My husband has very generously given me the freedom to return to work or launch the jewelry business I’ve dreamed of starting for years or to volunteer my time to whatever cause captures my attention. My challenge is to figure out which, if any, of those paths to choose.

More than a year ago I was so certain that I would be making jewelry that I commissioned this logo from my friend and graphic artist, Cindy Shew:Door44-finished

So much has changed since I settled on this logo for my jewelry business, not the least of which is my name. I hardly remember who Wendi Givigliano was anymore, so it seems strange to see that name on my logo. That version of myself has faded to sort of an abstract image of a woman bound by circumstances to a lonely existence and a life path that was continually directed toward the needs of the people and organizations that consumed my time and attention. I didn’t have a lot of spare time or energy to pursue my own interests, so I selfishly guarded my down time so I could make jewelry. It was through that solitary creative process, which I immersed myself in nightly, that I was able to restore my energy reserves so I could face another day at work.

It dawned on me recently that the act of making jewelry back then was my life line, in a sense. It’s what kept me balanced and sane after dealing with the insanity of emotionally imbalanced coworkers jockeying for position in a dysfunctional corporate organization day after day. The simple act of creating jewelry gave me a concrete sense of accomplishment, and the creative process became my chosen means of meditation and stress release.

That was then. Wendi Givigliano, as I remember that version of myself, was operating in survival mode. I dreamed of the day that I might evolve from surviving to thriving, but I had no concrete ideas about how to get there. In a desperate attempt to redirect my course toward a more fulfilling existence, I chose making jewelry as one potential means to that end. The logo above was the ultimate expression of that desire. I imagined that starting a jewelry business would open the door to fulfillment for me. Little did I know that the door would open on its own accord, and that it would turn my whole world view upside down in the process.

Ironically, I was working with Cindy on the design of my logo at the exact same time that my husband came back into my life after a two-year hiatus. I first met Matt in the spring of 2009. We were coworkers at the time. I was a project manager at a small manufacturing company in Trinidad, Colorado back then. Matt, a software developer, was hired to work on a specific project for that company. Our paths didn’t cross frequently at the office, and we never worked directly with one another, so I never got an opportunity to really get to know him. Still, I felt a strong connection to him. So when he left after working there for less than a year, I wondered if I’d somehow missed an important opportunity.

I got a chance to explore that opportunity a second time in 2010 when Matt and I connected via Facebook. Once we finally started talking, we discovered that we have an awful lot in common. Facebook messaging lead to text messaging and email correspondence, which in turn lead to phone conversations that would last for hours. That’s the only time either of us ever exceeded the minutes on our respective cell phone plans. As luck would have it, though, we still didn’t manage to get together back then.

Our lives spun off in different directions that summer, and we lost all contact until January, 2013 when the simple gesture of a LinkedIn endorsement from Matt brought the wheel of fortune back around for us a third time. We immediately picked up right where we left off two years prior, and while I finalized the logo for my jewelry business, the act of making jewelry was pushed to the back burner while Matt and I dated.

We lived 120 miles apart at that time, so we split our weekends between his home and mine. On weeknights, I was talking with him on the phone instead of making jewelry. And now I am Wendi Reamy. This new version of myself is clearly a wife and stepmother. Whether or not I am still a jewelry artisan remains to be seen. My priorities have changed. My focus has changed dramatically. I still feel the drive to create, but that drive seems to be flow more naturally into domestic activities like cooking than artistic expression.

I am far more inclined to scour the internet for interesting recipes today than I am to pick up my wire and tools. I miss making jewelry, and I hope to get back to it at some point. For now, though, my sense is that I should probably just go with the flow. The wheel of fortune brought Matt around to me three times, and it was on that third rotation that we were finally able to make what was clearly an inevitable connection. Making jewelry has been a significant part of my life at two very specific points now. Perhaps, as with my husband, the jewelry craft will finally stick if it comes back around on the wheel a third time.

Until then, this blog, which was originally intended to be focused on my jewelry business, will more likely be a place where I sort out my thoughts about life, love, relationships, and the many connections I make to those things through artistic expression–either my own or that of other artists whose work moves me.

If you are interested in discovering with me what’s behind Door 44, I welcome you to join me on this journey. In the meantime, remember this: life is short, so do something you love.