Brick by Brick

I’ve always thought of a point of view a little differently. To me, it isn’t necessarily an opinion. t’s the point I can see. The place down the road that has my undivided attention. The thing I’m moving toward. And when I finally get there, the view changes and another point appears somewhere ahead of me. Maybe that’s why I’ve always been so focused on what is directly in front of me. I’m very good at seeing the next thing.

The next idea.

The next design.

The next photograph.

The next problem to solve.

What I’m not always as good at is widening the frame. Seeing beyond the point that currently has all of my attention. And lately, that has felt especially relevant.

I built this website. I filled it with things I made. I photographed them, wrote about them, uploaded them, shared them, talked about them. And it has been open for two weeks.

No orders.

There it is. Not a crisis. Not a failure. Just a fact sitting there in front of me. And of course, because I am who I am, I look directly at that point.

Two weeks.

No orders.

It would be very easy to decide that means something bigger than it does. That maybe this isn’t working. That maybe I misjudged it. That maybe I should stop putting so much energy into something that isn’t giving me anything back yet. 

But there’s another part of this story too. I have built before. There was a house. A studio. A business. A following. There was jewellery being made and sold and a creative life that had shape and momentum. And then, slowly and sometimes not so slowly, pieces of it disappeared. Studio move after studio move. Less room. Less time. Less space for the work. Eventually, no studio at all. And I can look back now and see that some of that came from not putting myself first when I needed to. Not speaking up. Not insisting that my work deserved space. Not asking enough of myself, or of the people around me, to protect the things that mattered to me.

That is a difficult thing to admit.

But maybe rebuilding is not about recreating the exact house that stood before. Maybe it is about paying closer attention to the foundation this time. Making sure there is room for me in it. Room for the work. Room for the jewellery. Room for the stickers. Room for whatever else I haven’t even thought of yet. And then I think about building.

You don’t lay three bricks and stand back wondering why there isn’t a house. You keep going. You keep thinking. You keep designing. You keep printing stickers. You keep making jewellery. You keep taking photographs. You keep trying different things. You keep putting the work out into the world. And you hope that somewhere along the way, all of those small things begin to connect. That doesn’t mean there aren’t doubts. There are. Some days I wonder how long this takes.

How long before something feels established?

How long before people find you?

How long before all of the little pieces start looking like something bigger?

I don’t know. And I think that may be the part I’m learning. I am very comfortable with the point right in front of me. The next sticker. The next pair of earrings. The next post. The next idea. What I’m trying to learn is to trust the space beyond it. To believe that not seeing the whole picture yet doesn’t mean there isn’t one. Maybe building something creatively is less about certainty and more about continuing before you have any. 

Brick by brick.

Some days the progress is obvious. Some days it is almost invisible. But the work is still there. And maybe this time, the foundation is different too. Stronger. More intentional.

Mine.

And for now, I think that is enough reason to keep building.

 

xo,

A