I wish I could come up with a snazzy title for inspiration but I won’t. Inspiration is found in the most random of places and in the faces of those who surround us. Inspiration is easy to confuse with imitation because we often imitate those around us. I wonder if it is because we are fearful of discovering our true selves.
We see the world in ombré colored lenses since rose colored ones are so 1990. I started crafting with each project tinted with the faint lingering of other inspirations. Always fumbling for what was current, what was trendy about never answering to my own inner self who was desperate to get out. It was during my homage to rosary making that I was able to discover my style and my inner self. It was there I was able-to connect to the girl from that small Texas town who spent years trying to hide her humble beginnings. I was trying to hide my cultura which was my connection to self. It was that moment I realized that the deep purple hues of the cactus fruit held the meaning of inspiration.
Through the thorns, although small and painful, held behind it a sweet taste of life. Each day we use our art, the ruggedness of it all to develop our signature style. It can be through jewelry, leather, pottery, or paint.
Our pain, our joy, our suffering are often hidden in our art unbeknownst to ourselves and to our patrons. I look at the wild flowers of Texas. The yellow bloom on a cacti and know that art is humanity echoing in every fiber it touches, every textile, every mound of clay taking with it a piece of the artist.