I had a unique moment of solitude at the Uffizi today. With my Amici Degli Uffizi card I was the first one into the museum and since I knew the way, I headed up the three flights of stairs to the floor where the most beautiful collection of Italian Renaissance paintings in the world begins. For five minutes I was alone with Cimabue, Duccio, and Giotto in the Sala del Trecento. Others soon joined me in the Sienese room and a half hour later the tours had caught up. Solitude, however, continued as went on my way at my own pace, all by myself.
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As I wander about Florence and take photographs of art and artists, I continue to consider an array of question. Here are some of today’s. Is the creative urge necessary for us to create meaning in our lives? Without creativity do we become listless? Is creating something part of the human condition that makes us uniquely human? All animals procreate, but are we humans guided to create a physical item beyond ourselves? My apologies for not making much sense of this; writing helps me put my thoughts into language, and I’m just not there yet. Please consider all my blogs as rough drafts. With that disclaimer, I write on, and since Florence is undisputedly the leather capital of the world, leather is a reasonable place to start. Where does creativity and meaning lie for the many involved in the industry? Clearly it provides employment—mass production of wallets, belts, boxes, shoes and all kinds of clothing, as well as selling in stores and at outdoor markets . There are still schools to train people in the art of leatherwork. The Scuola del Cuoio is affiliated with the Church of Santa Croce. Yesterday I saw men and women individually cutting, sewing, and embossing on individual pieces of leather. Were they artists or craftsmen? Were they creating new designs or only putting an individual touch onto the work in front of them? Were they satisfied that they were making beautiful things for others? Where were their hearts as they worked? Maybe there is an answer there. Sono arrivata. I’ve been in Florence twenty-four hours. It took me a while to settle in but last night’s delicious meal of mixed crostini, chicken with truffle sauce and roasted rosemary potatoes, a twelve hour sleep, two cappuccino this morning, and my favorite mixed vegetables at Ciro and Sons Ristorante at noon has helped ground me. It took a while this time to settle into why I was here for the umpteenth solitary visit. In the recent past I was writing the book about Mom, but with “Very Grateful” published, I found myself wanting a project, and yet not finding one. Then this morning on my wander about the city, I started taking pictures. “Oh no,” you say, “More of the same?” “Oh yes,” I say, “More but always different, for this is a new moment, a new view of this miraculous city.” I realize that these blog posts have become part of my purpose: to inspire, affirm, and encourage people who long for solitude, silence and simplicity and who sometimes like to be alone. But why this longing? What do we long for? We long for meaning and purpose in our lives. Elizabeth Gilbert, in her new book “Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear,” frames this meaning as a creative desire that every human being has. If we don’t tap into it we open ourselves to depression and no reason to live. I may be over-simplifying this, but I know I’m onto something. While I’m here in Florence for the next twelve days I plan to blog, primarily with pictures, about creativity I see happening around Florence. Not only through artifacts of long ago, but the through the work of contemporary artists out there on the streets: painters, sculptors, multi-media artists, textile artists, architects, photographers, culinary artists, writers, horticulturalists, athletes. There are also artists who create through the spoken word: ministers, professors, teachers. And what about animal lovers, or those doing all they can to save this beautiful earth. Clearly they are creative artists as well. My startup list expands as I write. I venture to say that the common denominator is that they all have something to share. Maybe you are one of these artists, maybe you express your creativity another way. We all have something we do (or want to do) that makes our life purposeful? The other day I read something to the effect that simplicity and time are connected. If I come across the quote, I’ll post it, but for now I’ll just make up my own thoughts about it. My first draft quote goes like this: Freedom of time is simplicity of living. Nothing profound here; the idea is so obvious that it may have passed us by. The negative way of talking about time and simplicity is to say that when we have too much to do and not enough time, our life is complicate and prone to stress. There are times in our lives when, unless we are a recluse or a hermit, we have too much going on—not enough time. We do what we can to eliminate some tasks in the hope of reducing stress. However, the life style goes on. The positive way of talking about time and simplicity to say that when we eliminate our habitual way of doing things our life becomes simple and relaxed. Sometimes we make big changes. I did this for the five winters I went to the cottage-by-the-sea. Once I got there I didn’t feel I had to do anything. I wrote a great of Very Grateful, not out of obligation, but out of longing. Recently I took up weaving. I wanted to weave as a spiritual practice, but instead the loom on the dining room table reminded me of another obligation. Self-created stress just sitting there. So yesterday I put the loom away. I eliminated the mental stress of one more thing to do after I had done what needed to be done around the house, and after what I really want to do, which is write. Maybe writing is my craft? At the moment, at lease the freedom of time is giving me simple living. My weaving is coming along slowly, very slowly as I release any yearning to produce a tangible product. Not easy for a doer like me, who wants to sit down and get that shuttle going back and forth immediately. But this isn’t the point, I tell myself. When I was on Iona in June, my weaver friend Moya introduced me to the craft in her little cottage behind a fairy hill. Weaving as a spiritual practice was all I could see and feel. That still rings true for me, although old habits linger on. The other day someone wrote, “I am an icon painter and spend many hours in contemplation each day as I paint.” That was the inspiration I needed. I’m doing my best to weave weaving into my daily rhythm. Sitting down at my portable rigid heddle loom brings immediate silence, solitude and simplicity. Some of the tasks are complex, especially for a beginner like me, but the experience feels simple because my expectation is to enjoy, not create a perfect product. I have gone through over one thousand (not an exaggeration) CBTS sunrise pictures, and selected about thirty to use as inspiration and examples of what I might weave. I’ve warped my loom with a light blue for background. As I weft yellow and blue I’m thinking that art is a series little experiments, with life being a big one. The experiment is the truth and reality of the moment. The best we can do. With people actually reading Very Grateful, I must confess that my mind has not been filled with much silence, solitude or simplicity. It is not even easy for me to remember to slow down. One help, however, has been my weaving. I sit at my loom, pull the shuttle through, in an out, change the color now and then, and wind the roller to open up space to continuing weaving. I don’t think, I don’t listen to anything. Being while doing. Weaving as a spiritual practice. This blog may be turning into a gratitude blog. Well, at least for this entry. Here’s my story. When I experienced a glitch in the piece I am weaving, I decided to drive to A Place to Weave for some help. Believe me, I needed help, novice that I am. The door to the studio was locked, but when I looked in, there was Beth, the owner, tidying up behind the scenes. She came out. “I don’t open until 5, but show me the problem; maybe we can fix it.” And she did just that, in fifteen minutes, right there on the porch. Then she sent me home to weave away until I am ready to take the piece off the loom and learn to apply the finishing touches. I was very grateful! When I was quilting I experienced this same generosity of spirit. Perhaps it has to do with working with one’s hands, perhaps with creating something; definitely with the memory of times when we were helped by someone when we were a novice. Helping seems to become woven, or stitched as the case may be, into craft people. Worth giving it a try I purchased a 12.5” ridged heddle loom and am taking a class at A Place to Weave in Waltham. Just as my life was getting simple, I brought a complication. At this moment, Very Grateful is out of my hands and is being designed and formatted for e-book and publish-on-demand. Although I’ll have to publicize it, the creative part of the project is finished. I need something new. In rereading my journals for Very Grateful, I noted that I often wrote about my desire to take up a craft. I tried painting and multi-media art but neither interest nor talent was there. I was successful with the few quilts I made, but I didn’t stick with it. Why? I think it had to do with the lack of simplicity I felt about the materials, workspace, and time commitment involved. To quilt one needs myriad accessories and fabric, fabric, fabric; to quilt one needs a permanent workspace (a room); to quilt one needs extended periods of time. It is that last need, extended periods of time, that I lack. Oh, I have the time, but I don’t want to take it. I want to be able to carry my craft with me, to work for a short amount of time, and then to stash it away. I can do just that with my 3.5 pound ridge heddle loom, which even came with a handy carrying bag. This afternoon I sat outside and wove for forty-five minutes. Then I put it out of sight and the house was immediately tidy—well kind of. That’s my simple weaving life right now. Even if I rent loom space at A Place to Weave, my house will stay tidy—that is unless I complicate everything and find my dining room taken over by a 4, 8, or 16 harness loom! I don’t think that will happen!!
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Contact me: bobbifisher.mac@mac.com
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