Adventures in Metal Clay

First foray into metal clay!

I've just returned (recovered?) from a 2-day class working with metal clay. Never in my life would I have thought making little metal bits and pieces could be a) so messy, b) so labor intensive, and c) so totally addictive. I can't wait to make more!
 
I apologize for the quality of these terrible photos. I'm not a photographer and I snapped them very quickly in my studio without a light box or any other professional set-up. No matter what I did I couldn't capture the rich luster of the pieces (the largest is about 2" high) which in real life have a much stronger sheen and color than shown here, thanks to several hours of polishing with a small hand-held rotary tool.
 

Copper pendants for beading.

Prior to taking the class, the only clay I ever worked with was just your typical ceramic-type clay: stoneware, porcelain, and terra cotta. The first time I ever heard of metal clay was through Twitter. I asked a Scottish jewelry maker how she crafted the quite lovely pieces she displayed on her profile page and she replied that she used silver clay. I was dumbfounded--I'd never heard of such a thing. When I further investigated the subject, I discovered there were all kinds of metal clays including steel, copper, and bronze which were the materials we used in the workshop.

My goals for creating the pieces were two-fold: first, I wanted to learn to make pendants for my bead work, and second, I wanted to create items for pottery inlay. I first thought of doing this when I brought home some antique coins from Taiwan several years ago and made a series of Asian-inspired pots using the coins for decoration. I was pleased with the way the pots turned out, but as I was tying the coins to the pots with leather and raffia I kept thinking it would be far more original and fun to create my own metal work designs. Hence my need for a workshop.

Now that I've taken the class and gone through all the stages of "I'm never doing THAT again," to "Wow, I could spend the rest of my life doing this!" my next step is to buy a comprehensive how-to book and investigate starting out with silver clay, a much less-complicated medium than bronze and copper. With silver, you simply form a design, fire it with a butane torch for a few minutes, scrub off the residue with a soft-bristled wire brush and Bob's your uncle--pure silver jewelry. Steel, bronze, and copper on the other hand require a certain amount of clay preparation (we mixed our own using powdered metal and water), a somewhat lengthy kiln firing, and a lot of finishing work: sanding, filing, and polishing. Again and again.

Despite all the tedium, not to mention the rivers of olive oil required to keep the clay from sticking to any surfaces and tools while in the molding stage (on Day One I was covered in enough oil to qualify as a fritter), I was extremely happy with my initial results. Believe me, they look much better in person, and I was amazed at my patience in learning to use a Dremel rotary tool without harming myself or others. I am definitely going to continue with this medium, and in the meantime I have eight pieces of treasure to keep me occupied for months to come. A real win-win if you ask me!

Tip of the Day: The workshop I took was held in a private studio but offered through the University of New Mexico continuing education department. Taking a class in the middle of the work week was as good as going away to summer camp for a month. What have you always wanted to learn to do? I bet your local school or college has just the course to get you started. Sign up today!

Taiwan Trip Diary: Days 11 and 12

Dharma words and stamps from our monastery stay.

Here we are at the end of our trip. I've been dragging these posts out in the hope I'd never reach this point. But, yes, all good things must come to an end (I've never really known why) and we were sure to cram as much fun into the last two days as possible. Starting with breakfast at The One and these coffee cups. I loved them so much I had to buy a set for home:

I don't think my husband is as impressed with them as I am, but I thought they were cute. And they're definitely a fine example of "splash ink" technique.

After leaving The One, we headed back up toward Taipei and a village famed for its ceramic work. We were running a bit behind schedule so we decided to forgo a sit-down lunch in favor of exploring what the street vendors had to offer. They were especially plentiful thanks to the ongoing national holiday. My choices included a steamed spinach-green onion-and-cheese bun, a fried doughnut, and a huge cup of iced lemon tea that lasted me most of the day.

Loved this tunnel kiln! I need one at home.

Bought chopsticks for home, too. 
Finally learned how to use them, LOL!

The afternoon took us further into Taipei:

Taiwan's "White House."

Chiang Kai-Shek Memorial
(unfortunately covered with
scaffolding.)

. . . and the National History Museum. I thought this little pagoda was perfect painting material:

Before studying any artwork we needed afternoon tea in the museum cafe:

The view from the cafe windows:

Someone actually gets to live in this building.

These beads date from 403-221 BC.
Still so modern. I'd buy them!

After the museum we found ourselves in a busy part of downtown where I had the opportunity to investigate some of the backstreet shops. Thanks to having bought the pig teacups I needed a larger carry-on. I found just what I wanted in a small suitcase store: bright pink canvas and made in Taiwan. A great souvenir for future travels.

Which store first??

Dinner that night was once again "family style" when we met up with some of Ming Franz's cousins, former high school classmates, and teachers in a downtown restaurant. It was a genuine reunion for them all, and wonderful for us to be part of such a special evening.

Then we were back to The Grand Hotel for our final night. By now we had traveled in a huge circle, seeing three coastlines and parts of the interior too. We also arrived back in time for  the start of "frog season." Right outside our windows: croak, croak, croak all night. As I noted in my journal: "These frogs are VERY disagreeable!"

A grand entrance, indeed.

Accompanied by the frog serenade, our packing lasted well into the early morning hours. We had become so spoiled in our big bus, a vehicle designed to sit 30-40 passengers when there were only 10 of us, that our daily habit was to load up the empty seats with our purchases from each stop and then forget about them. Now was the night of reckoning and everything had to find its place or get left behind. First to be discarded were all the beautiful shopping bags--so lovely but way too bulky. 

The next morning, packed and ready for our night-time flight, we still had a full day to spend in Taipei. First stop was a visit with Welsh paper artist, Tim Budden, now a Taiwan resident, who led us to his studio through this interesting neighborhood:

Hot spring water flows right through town.

Mr. Budden explaining the
intricacies of paper art.

Following our studio tour, we were off to Taipei 101, regarded to be the world's highest completed building. We were booked for lunch on the ground floor at an Anthony Bourdain-recommended restaurant specializing in xiao long bao, steamed soup dumplings. Yum.

Before lunch we had 30 minutes to ride up to the 89th-floor. 

Next and final stop: The Eslite Book Store. The best bookstore in the whole world. Several stories high, filled with treasures I'll never see here in the USA, I could have moved in permanently. I bought more brush pens (black, forest green, gray, and rust red), a book on painting cats in the Chinese style, and a book on French shabby chic. In Chinese. Don't judge.

And then we were off to the airport. Our superb and talented tour guide gifted us all with special little items to remember our trip. For me it was a wooden key-ring carved into the shape of a horse complete with saddle, bridle, and tons of intricate detail. She told me she had chosen a horse so that I "may keep traveling, and go far." She also gave me a postcard of a Taiwanese kitten, "Because you love cats!" 

On the way to the airport . . .

After dinner on the plane I think I slept more soundly than I did at the monastery. I don't remember much about the flight home except for the movie I watched before falling asleep: The Crossing--a recent film set in Taiwan during the Chinese Civil War. It was excellent, and a real tear-jerker, but then it suddenly ended with the words 'To be continued." Apparently Part II comes out this summer, but I wanted to keep watching!

Along with two of my travel companions, I had decided earlier to stopover in San Francisco before going home to Albuquerque, and I'm glad I did, but it sure seemed strange (and lonely) to be on our own without the group or my roommate.

A room of my own.
New pink Taiwan travel bag in the back there.

My version of my cat postcard:
"This kitty is sad to leave Taiwan."

And then we flew into Albuquerque, and . . .  that's all, folks, 12 unforgettable days of Taiwan. I hope you've enjoyed reading my trip diary; I certainly enjoyed sharing it with you. May you one day travel far and wide, too!

(Next post: A review of my travel sketch supplies, what worked, what didn't. Stay tuned.)

J is for (Modern) Japanese Stories

Today's keeper book doesn't exactly start with the letter "J" but it's close enough. The only other "J"book I have is Holly Schindler's The Junction of Sunshine and Lucky, which I've recently posted about here. (It's a good post--Holly shared her top 12 tips for writing Middle Grade fiction. Please visit!) So in order to not repeat myself,  Modern Japanese Stories, an Anthology edited by Ivan Morris and illustrated with 25 full-page woodcuts will have to fill-in today.

I bought the book in Southern California at a tiny Japanese mall where I had lunch one afternoon. The bookstore next to the restaurant was a cool, dark space decorated with fluttering cotton flags and carrying rows and rows of books printed in Japanese. The books themselves intrigued me with their rice paper pages, plain but colorful fabric-textured covers, and the way they fit into my hands with a lovely, balanced weight. Holding one was like handling a scented melon, warm and satisfying between my palms. Unfortunately, I couldn't read a single word of any of the text! The shop owner could sense my dilemma, and kindly pointed me toward a small shelf of books in English. Modern Japanese Stories caught my eye. Just like the rest of the books in the store, it had that same weight and size I found so appealing. I bought the book right away and started to read it that night.

I wasn't disappointed. Over the years I've read it many, many times and have developed quite a fascination with all things Japanese. I've since read a large number of both modern and early Japanese novels; watched Japanese films whenever possible; studied Japanese ceramics, which have been a huge influence on my own ceramic work; and last year for National Poetry Month I went so far as to write and illustrate a Japanese-inspired art journal I titled "30 Days of Kimono." I wrote a blog post about it here, and created a Pinterest board for the project as well. The journal/sketchbook turned out to be so interesting I'm still adding to it, this time exploring the world of the Geisha.

One day I hope to go to Japan. My husband has been there five (!) times for business, but I was never able to accompany him. He assures me that downtown Tokyo is nothing like my romantic vision of a quiet mountain inn complete with our own private tea garden and a view of cherry blossoms in the snow. I don't care--I want to see Tokyo too! Both places are on my bucket list. In the meantime, I'm happy to re-read Modern Japanese Stories and dream.

E is for Electric Kiln Ceramics

Note to self: Never, ever lose Electric Kiln Ceramics, a Potter’s Guide to Clays and Glazes by Richard Zakin.

This former library book is stamped on the inside back cover with the damning instructions: DISCARD, DISCARD, probably due to the fact it is quite literally falling apart at the seams. All the more reason for me to cherish it these last fifteen years and do my best to give it a good home.

My husband found the book for me when we were at the Carrollton Library’s annual Friends of the Library sale back in Georgia. I had just started working in clay, and I was eager to gather all the information I could on the subject, especially for the grand price of a dollar!

Unlike writing, pottery is something I fell into by accident. I was taking drawing lessons that turned into watercolor experiments that somehow turned into pottery class. My first effort on that first day was a frog that fell apart and never made it into the kiln. C’est la vie. The advice I received that same day was much more valuable than any knick-knack: 1) Pretend you’re making a tortilla. 2) Never make your clay tortilla thicker than ¼ inch. 3) It’s just mud.

That was my teacher talking, but here’s some more great advice, this time from the opening lines of Electric Kiln Ceramics, Chapter Two:

“Clay is a special material with unique properties. It is in itself formless, but can be shaped into many forms. Although it is soft and pliable, it can be hardened by heat into one of the hardest materials known. To understand the nature of ceramics, the potter must understand the nature of clay.”

Kind of sums up the whole of life and creativity, don’t you think?

Electric Kiln Ceramics has remained next to my clay table year and after year, inspiring me with both its words and photographs. More important, though, it is a constant reminder of a little town in Georgia where I learned to make mud pies and how to let go of frogs. Not bad for a dollar.

Start the Day with a Mini-Project

I'm a big fan of morning pages, but there are definitely times when I need a break. It's not that I don't find the pages useful, but every now and then I need to shake up my routine and make life more . . . exciting.  

One of the ways I thought of doing that was to start my day with a "mini-project" instead of the usual three handwritten pages Julia Cameron recommends in The Artist's Way. I got the idea from a gardening book that mentioned how Renoir painted a single rose every day before tackling his main work-in-progress. I don't know if I could stick to a regimen that centered on a single subject, but I can certainly appreciate the need for a warm-up exercise. With that in mind I sat down and brainstormed what might work for me--and for you, too! 

• Write a structured poem such as a sonnet, pantoum, or ghazal. Base the poem on last night's dream.
• Cut three pictures with a similar theme or subject from a magazine. For example, 3 pictures featuring purple. Or three pictures of dogs, or children, recipes, etc.
• Collage a three-page character bio--for either an existing character or a new one.
• Play with watercolor brushstrokes: random colors, patterns, feelings.
• Sketch one item only, e.g. a cup, an apple, a toy--using a single medium.
• Write three pages of dialogue.
• Place an artist's mannikin in a fresh pose every day. Record the poses in a single sketchbook used only for this purpose.
• A quick sketch of where you are right now. Try a different color of pencil or ink for each day.
• Write a stacked journal entry in three colors of ink.
• Clay: make a small pinch pot, egg cup, votive, bead, dipping bowl, soap dish, or incense holder.
• Three pages of flash fiction.
• Mini-collage on a piece of junk mail.
• Set a timer and create a new Polyvore set or Pinterest Board in twenty minutes or less.

Tip of the Day: At the end of the month, collect all these mini-projects and use them to create a larger piece, or to inspire you in some fresh way. For instance, a sketchbook of mannikin poses could be the basis for a new children's book. The stacked journal entries could be part of a framed collage. At the same time, examine what you enjoyed writing or drawing the most. Did you have a favorite theme, color, or medium? Take note and keep exploring.

Thankful, and a Splash Ink Update

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! Got all your shopping done? I did mine yesterday, and it was wonderful to avoid the crowds and tick everything off my list. As always, we are having a vegetarian celebration, and this year I'm going to especially enjoy the day by writing more NaNoWriMo pages while my kiln fires a couple of new pots--time to celebrate, indeed!

For some reason this also seemed like a good time to share some of my latest splash ink efforts, maybe because they are so misty and reminiscent of autumn and the beauty of the season. I'm still using gouache on top of the initial watercolor background, a medium I'm finally learning to understand (thank goodness). As I've been painting, it's made me think how thankful I am for, well, everything!

But if I narrowed it down to just my creative life, these would have to be my top 12 thank-you's:

1. I am grateful for my writing tools: computers, Alphasmart, fountain pen.
2. Grateful for my Sunday morning writer's group! Best in the whole world.
3. My art supplies: I have enough to stock a small store, and I'm grateful that I have been able to buy them.
4. Books!! What would my life be without books? I love books more than just about anything. I love the way they feel in my hands. I don't care if e-books are amazing; they will never duplicate the thrill of opening those real-world pages.
5. Social networking--now here's where the Internet is fun for me. I'm so grateful for my Twitter, Facebook, and JacketFlap friends. They make me smile every single day.
6. I'm very, very grateful that I have a day job that is flexible and allows me to write or draw whenever possible.
7. And gives me a nice studio-office where I can spread out my manuscripts, my art journals, my mess!
8. I'm super grateful that I have my own little kiln--it's tiny but it works and allows me to  experiment and play with complete freedom (and zero worries about destroying anyone else's work--a huge bonus after some early traumas when my pieces would blow up in a shared kiln . . . don't ask . . . ).
9. The library--forget Disneyland. The library is truly the happiest place on earth. And they give you free magazines for cut-outs. How good is that?
10. Ideas! I have no idea where they come from--but where would I be without them?
11. Art teachers. I would not be painting or potting or even writing without them. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
12. Living in Albuquerque for the last ten years. New Mexico is not called "The Land of Enchantment" for nothing. The landscape is inspiring; every single kind of art supply or bookstore is within easy reach; and the amount of classes, groups, professional organizations for writers and artists is overwhelming. Sometimes it's nearly impossible to choose which one to attend--but each one I go to is always the right choice.

Last but not least, I want to thank everyone who follows and/or reads my blog posts. Every day I am stunned by how many readers I have and where they all come from: Egypt, Connecticut, New Zealand, Romania, Illinois--it's wonderful! You are all my pool of inspiration:

Tip of the Day: If you haven't already, do start a dedicated Gratitude Journal. To me this is one of the most valuable journals you will ever write. Writing a simple list of just 12 items that made your day special can often be enough. Some days will be more difficult than others to find those 12 incidents, but I can promise if you dig deep they will be there. Enjoy your holiday weekend wherever you will be, and remember, I am grateful for YOU! Thanks again, dear friends.

Stay Creative Every Day Tip #8: Give up Comparisons

I have a friend who hates pink. I adore it. My friend is, I think, a much better artist than I am, maybe because of her palette choices! But I don’t want to give up pink, and I don’t want to berate myself just because someone else doesn’t like roses and kitten paws. Which leads me to Stay Creative Every Day Tip #8: Never compare yourself to others.

The day I learned to stop competing, stop comparing, and truly enjoy the creative life I’ve chosen was a few years ago when I wanted to try using a high-fire glaze on a small vase in my very small kiln. The kiln is capable of reaching a high setting, but that’s more of a theory than a reality. Anyway, I carefully glazed what I thought was one of my best vases in the required 3 coats, let them dry for the appropriate amount of time, and then proceeded to fire up the kiln. After hours and hours of extreme heat, followed by hours and hours of cooling, I opened the kiln. And the vase was absolutely hideous. Not only had the glaze virtually disappeared (what was meant to be a lovely peacock blue was a dull puce) but the clay surface had a weird, bumpy feel similar to ostrich skin. I was miserable. I was a loser. I couldn’t even fire a 4-inch vase. The potters featured in Ceramics Monthly were so much BETTER than me. I would never even make it to my first show. I set the thing aside on a side shelf and tried to find something else to do. 

A few days later the afternoon sun pierced through the blinds in my studio and hit the vase in such a way that made it suddenly glow, forcing me to pick it up for a second look. Miraculously, it was beautiful, as in seriously fine. Sure, the glaze wasn’t at all what I had planned, but it had personality. The “weird” texture was, dare I say, interesting. I found myself oddly moved; I felt that if there had been any failure on my part it was that I had failed to appreciate this little vase that was just trying to be itself rather than the image I had wanted to impose upon it. Now it’s one of my prized pieces and takes pride of place on my bookcase. Lesson learned: Everyone and everything has an innate timing, integrity, and direction. My job is to just let that emerge naturally, and always do the best I can without worrying, and without the need to compare. The best ways I found to do that are to:

• Find what you love to do. 
• Find what you do well—and raise the bar only when you think you’re ready to go there. 
• Don’t give up because someone else is supposedly “better” at your chosen craft. 
• And be honest. Don’t go in the other direction and disparage the “bad work” of others when you might be a teensy bit, um, envious. (Yes, I’ve done that too.)

Tip of the Day: If you find yourself constantly comparing your work to that of others, the best way to stop is to start a daily gratitude and appreciation list. Every evening, list 12 things that you did well that day. They don’t have to be acts of great heroism or award-winning works of art; in fact, the minute you stop judging your accomplishments for NOT being as amazing or fantastic as you think they’re supposed to be, you'll be safely out of the “compare and despair” zone.

Filling the Well; Filling the Joplin School Libraries

Another weekend creative session--this time firing up my (very small) electric kiln for a Cone 6 stoneware coil-built pot I started about six months ago.  Plenty of time for the clay to dry, especially here in New Mexico, but for a variety of reasons I was reluctant to submit the piece to the kiln.

To start with, the pot measures 12" high, which is the entire height of my kiln--I was worried I wouldn't be able to close the kiln lid.  To make the pot fit, I wouldn't be able to use a kiln shelf; all I could do was place the piece on the kiln floor.  The glaze I chose is manufactured locally, and the clay store wasn't very enthusiastic about it.  They warned me it would drip, and I certainly didn't want glaze destroying the floor of my kiln.  And then Cone 6 is such a long, hot firing.  Most of my work with this kiln has been low fire earthenware, 8-9 firing hours max; the only time I tried Cone 6 it was a disaster.  Would this one be the same?   Worry, worry; fuss, fuss.  Finally I got so sick of my concerns I decided to just jump off the deep end and get that pot finished!  Results = one happily fired pot, no kiln damage, and a good lesson learned:  Stop fussing!  Stop worrying!  There are bigger things in life than potentially messy glazes.

Which brings me to the real subject of today's post:  REQUEST FOR JOPLIN, MISSOURI LIBRARY RELIEF.

Yesterday I received an e-mail newsletter from my Albuquerque chapter of the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators.  Included was a message from Joyce Ragland, RA, SCBWI-Missouri.  Joyce wrote:

"Five Joplin school libraries were damaged or destroyed in the Joplin tornado. Beyond that, many teachers had many personal libraries damaged or destroyed. Some teachers, I'm told, had years of books they had purchased to share with their students and are now rebuilding. So far, they have put together 7,800 backpacks for kids in summer school, thanks to many volunteers from all over the world who've donated cash and/or books. Still much to do. I can imagine the wonderful escapes into books that kiddos of all ages are getting."

Yes, I can certainly imagine the solace and escape books have to offer the young people of Joplin, and for that reason Dava Books will be sending several cartons of books early next week.  With that, I'd like to extend an invitation to my blog readers.  If you'd like to join with us and send some books of your own,  please address your packages to:

Attn: Debbie Heim

Library Memorial Education Center

310 West 8th Street

Joplin, MO 64801

I think this is a wonderful project and I wish the center much success in reaching their goals and more.

So, how does this tie in to pots?  Well, one of the things I enjoy about making pots is wondering how they will be filled.  Sometimes I fill them with plants and river stones, other times I turn them into holders for candles or pot pourri.  But usually I like to just leave them as they are, letting them be reminders to stay open to receiving the goodness of the universe.  So with that intention, I'm dedicating my new pot to the Joplin Library Project.  The pot may be small, but the project is big.  Let's help fill it to overflowing.

Tip of the Day:  I'm sure the library center will be open to all kinds of books, gently used from your shelves, or brand new copies straight from the bookstore.  If you can, please take some time to choose a special book to send to Joplin, maybe one of your childhood favorites or perhaps a book filled with inspiration and hope.  Whatever you can do, I know your efforts will be much appreciated.  Thank you!

Getting Back to Clay

Sometimes it’s good to switch disciplines and to explore new creative territory. For instance, I consider myself a prose writer, but there’s nothing I enjoy more than delving into poetry or tackling a screenplay. It’s the same with working in the visual arts. I’m fascinated by art materials and the wide variety of new pencils, sketchbooks, and paints available on the market. But like so many other writers and artists I know, giving myself permission to whittle out a little extra space for something new can often seem impossible.

Until a few months ago, it had been nearly a year since I had allowed myself the opportunity to “write” in one of my favorite mediums: clay. My reasons for keeping my half-used 20-lb. bag of cone 4 terra cotta in the closet were about as weak as my list of “why I can’t write today” excuses: no time, no real studio space, nowhere to stack green ware (manuscripts) without it (them) getting broken (disorganized). Thankfully, by mid-January I got sick of my whining and decided the kitchen table was as good a work space as any other. So was signing up for a refresher class at a local Albuquerque studio, Mudfish Pottery.

I admit that for the first half hour of my first class I was totally overwhelmed. What on earth was I doing getting up early on a Saturday morning to travel all the way across town to sit with a lump of dirt? The mantra “make something” kept going through my mind. But what? At the same time I’d forgotten how good the smell of clay can be when the plastic bag covering it is opened. Better yet is the endless stream of ideas flooding my head and hands as I struggle to settle on just one project. In the end I followed the rest of the class and made a coil flower pot that for some strange reason reminds me of the south of France. I can’t imagine not having it close by on my bookshelf.

As a child, I hated being dirty. No mud pies for me. The writer’s world of clean white paper, smooth-flowing fountain pens, and precise typewriter keyboards fit me, or so I thought, much better than a messy art studio. Like a lot of my childhood misconceptions, how wrong I was!
It was a writer friend who suggested I might want to give up some of those early biases. I am forever grateful to her insight. Clay, rather than repelling me, opened me to the raw power of potential and possibilities. I took to clay like some close relative of the Three Little Pigs. In the early days of my new found passion, I would spend hours scouring my yard and house for improvised clay tools. I saw rocks and twigs, bark and broken household items all as coveted items for pattern-making and story-telling. One remarkable afternoon I took a leather-hard coil pot outside to carve a design into the rim. I remember thinking, “I’ve done this before.” It seemed to me that I had spent dozens of lifetimes piercing and cutting away at a similar surface. As I worked, I found myself engaged in a story that spoke louder to me than anything I had heard before. When I was finished I went inside and wrote it all down. Part of it became my inspiration for this current blog posting.

Working with clay I had to learn that cracks were for letting in (or out) more light. Fingers—not my brain--had to do the walking. And disasters could always be recycled: broken shards could be put in the bottom of flowerpots; birds and squirrels never noticed ugly glazes on the food and water dishes I placed in the woods around my house. More than anything else, though, I learned not to take myself too seriously. And at the same time, I learned not to laugh at myself too hard, either. Whether I’m writing, painting, or sculpting, the main thing is I’m having fun. That’s all I ever wanted anyway.

Tip of the Day: Don’t get stuck in a creative rut. If you’re a writer, go to an art supply store and buy yourself some fun materials for a new way to tell your story. If you’re an artist, add some words to your latest project. Turn a painting into a poem and vice versa.