Later as a psychiatrist, I wondered, how one becomes so certain? When in early life did they learn that they were so right? Or who in their early life told them they were so wrong, that they learned to hold their beliefs with all their might.
More recently, I find myself envious of those who are certain of their career paths. For me, “work” often feels like an endless search, not a search for creative inspiration, but for a steady income. I’ve tried to trust that if I follow my passion for creating, with discipline and hard work, everything will work out. But of this, I'm not always certain.
Last week was a week of uncertainty. It started at 5:30am with me lying in bed wondering where I should put my energy. “Which part of my work should I be trying to push forward?” “Will any of it start to take off?” As I often do when I’m feeling uncertain, I checked my email on my phone. And as is often the case - nothing. Next I checked Facebook, an even more definitive path to distraction. A posted video caught my eye - “Your Words and Thoughts Have Physical Power - Will Smith.” Now there's a person with certainty. His is about determination, work ethic and success. I was sure he was speaking directly to me. “You have to believe that something else can happen.” Next, I am up and ready to seize the day. Thank you, Will!!
Before I knew it, I was at my computer in my studio. (A computer in a studio is a very bad idea. The only thing worse is a computer in bed.) I found myself captivated by a collection of nine outdoor faucet knobs that someone was selling online. Brilliant!! I will put unusual aesthetically appealing collections together to sell or offer for potential design clients.
I arrive at Architectural Salvage. But then a setback – the items are priced for restoration of historic homes, not collections. I’ll need to find cheaper items. Off to Peddlers Market on Dixie Highway. There are a couple of great finds that I resist purchasing (only because I've recently written about decluttering), but no collections. Next to the Antique mall – again too expensive.
What am I doing? Trust the process, I tell myself. There’s a reason. Keep searching. I was already forgetting what Will told me this morning… in bed, “You want something, go get it, Period.” (I don't think he was speaking to me about the $20 bingo ball with that caught my eye.)
While exploring the Antique mall, I happened upon the most amazing room. Somehow the way it was lit, the way the rugs were hanging from the very high ceiling and the way the items were crowded into place made me feel like I was in another world. "That's it. I need to be a design reporter and share my finds through photographs and words.” Rather than putting together collections, I need to be giving people ideas. This thought takes me back to Architectural Salvage where I spend the remaining 20 minutes of my "work day" photographing some of the collections that caught my eye.
The next day I was again certain I could find faucets for less than at Architectural Salvage and for only slightly more than if I removed them from unknowing neighbors' homes. I decided to call a friend of a friend who owns a junk pick up franchise. After kindly hearing my introduction, he asks the profound question, “What exactly are you looking for?” "I don’t know," I told him, "but I’m hoping I’ll know when I see it.” Within the hour, I’m getting introduced to the junk and left in a warehouse to dig around. Though I didn’t find what I'm still not sure I was looking for, I met a very kind and helpful person. He told me that if he came upon something repetitive, he would let me know. "That’s it!" I realized what I needed was to meet more people. "I need to meet a new person every day. I’ve been spending too much time isolated in my studio." By that night I was also certain that my calling was to do a photo documentary on the cycle of our stuff.
The week continued much this way into the weekend when my ever supportive husband and daughter joined me on an outing to the Derby Park Flea Market parking lot. Before it started to rain, we quickly worked our way through as vendors yelled out, “ONE DOLLAR!”. This was my kind of place.
“What exactly are we looking for?” My daughter asked the important question this time. “We are in search of the truth, honey. I don’t know exactly what I'm looking for, but I feel like I have to keep looking. I’ll know when I find it. It's probably not even a thing, maybe an idea, a thought.” Before she could respond in full, she said she'd have to think about that. I did find a blue suitcase (“TWO DOLLARS!”) that I was certain would be a great base for a stack of vintage suitcases.
Will was not the only creative inspiration on my mind as I searched this past week. A few months ago my husband heard an interview on a Kurt Andersen Studio 360 podcast that he said I should listen to. It wasn't until I was halfway into this increasingly exhilarating and irritating week, that I remembered and finally listened. Maira Kalman, I can only now tell you, is an artist, illustrator and writer. She walks around New York taking pictures of things and people that catch her eye. She then goes to her studio (where she does not have a computer) and reacts to what she sees through her art and writing. She also loves to collect.
By the next day I was reading (and viewing) Maira Kalman's only book immediately available at the library, "The Principles of Uncertainty.” I’d found a kindred spirit, someone inspiring me to trust the searching process and trust my own eye, reaction and voice. (Our spirits will be even more kindred when I too am on a first name basis with the editor of the "New Yorker Magazine".)
Perhaps her inspiration was the best find of the week. Despite this, I really hoped to have snapped out of all of this uncertainty and gotten back to a direction and discipline more like Will's than Maira's. Instead, I can only say with certainty that today as I photographed this duck, I felt at one with my work. To me this photo speaks for itself, though if you asked me what it says, I could not tell you.