this weekend, i attended chicago's renegade craft fair. the weather was gorgeous, the designs were abundant, and the tunes! mr. dj spun an awesome array of rock--big star, beatles, hollies, nerves...need i go on?
walking from booth to booth, i noticed consistent themes in the designs. peacocks. owls. squids. cassette tapes. retro robots. steampunk. (loved the peacocks. in fact, i picked up a gorgeous purple peacock blouse from loyalty and blood and a dynamite peacock tunic from megan lee designs.)
i also visited my friend--and co-worker--barry's booth. he + his girl own barry's farm, the coolest place for laptop + iPod sleeves.
the whole adventure was so exciting + inspiring. it made me think. a lot.
growing up, i loved making art. in high school, i considered it as a career, but--in all midwestern practicality--believed that art was simply something to do in your free time, or when you retire. a career means making money + providing for a household, not following your dreams. i mashed all passion for art into the furthest recesses of my brain. i did everything you're "supposed" to do. go to college, pick a sensible major (business, in my case), get a safe job in the insurance industry, decorate the cubicle with encouraging quotes, go to mary kay parties, eat stauffer's lasagna. that lifestyle fit me like a too-tight, itchy wool sweater--in july. i knew it wasn't "me," but i had denied what i really wanted for so long that i didn't really know who "me" was.
after spending most of my 20s in a bland, domestic fog, i walked away. i was tired, angry, and sick of feeling helpless about my circumstances. now, at 31, i'm finally discovering who I am and what I want.
and i want to make art.