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Crafts · Temporary crafts

Temporary, in Stone

One beach. One carry-on. Five thousand unstarted projects, and the one that mattered anyway.

The Mediterranean → the garage
9 frames2 min
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01 · The Beach
A beach with no sand, only candidates. Every stone on it auditioning for the carry-on.
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02 · The Ritual
We sit, we sort, like some tribal ritual I could have been doing in another life. Colors, sizes, shapes, types of rock. Then we re-order them.
02 / 07
03 · The Taxonomy
The towel becomes a filing system. Someone bumps the board and it starts all over — which is, of course, the whole game.
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04 · The Haul
These flew home in my carry-on, all the way from the Mediterranean. Dutifully. Security had questions.
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05 · The Face
At home a face appeared on the board, and then never stopped changing. New eyebrows nightly. Nobody has ever declared it finished, and nobody ever will.
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06 · The Station
The sorting station is still open for business: stones by color, sea glass by mood, one white frame waiting patiently for a masterpiece that is in no hurry.
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07 · The Point
As finished as it ever got. Sometimes temporary things are just temporary pleasure, even when they are made of stone.
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The end (for now)
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Crafts

The Pebbles I Carried Home from the Mediterranean

Kellie Hartwell ▶ 9 frames

I will probably never do anything permanent with the pebbles I dutifully carried home in my carry-on, all the way from the Mediterranean Sea. The teen checked out on the project the moment there was no longer a sea accompanying it. And still I keep them, and sort them, and review my favorite pebble art pins AS IF I am capable of and about to attempt these very designs myself. I am not.

This is the story of our incomplete project. Because sometimes temporary things are just temporary pleasure, even when they are made of stone.

We sit, we sort

Pebbles sorted into piles by color and size on a striped beach towel
The taxonomy phase, beach towel edition.

Sometimes the point of art is that there is no point. The point of creativity is just to let your mind wander and sit with what might be. Sometimes creativity is just waiting for inspiration and having a zen moment in the meantime.

My daughter and I sit and sort, like some tribal ritual I could have been doing in another life. We sit, we sort, we put things in order. Colors, sizes, shapes, types of rock. Then we re-order them. Someone bumps the board and it starts all over.

A face made of pebbles with two striped shells for eyebrows and sea glass for a mouth
The face got new eyebrows every night. Nobody ever declared it finished.

It's a metaphor for the entropy that is life. Things get set up the way we think we want them, and then something happens that upsets the picture. Or we leave the room, come back in, and see the image we just made from another angle, and our perspective shifts. We see new shapes, or the filling out of a half-made design.

Cliches abound about the process and the journey, and those are all easy to quote when we aren't confounded by a half-born bit of inspiration. In those moments, not seeing a final product can feel like failure. Like you aren't really an artist, like you have nothing left in the well. You might recommit, and feel guilty for stopping, because what kind of artist has 5,000 unstarted projects? The true answer is probably more than half of them. Being creative, making art, even defining yourself as an artist or any work you've made as art, can feel self-aggrandizing and even delusional. I stay inside my desk job and remind myself I am not really an artist.

Until I remember temporary art

The home sorting station: pebbles arranged by color on a towel beside a white frame holding a half-made pebble mosaic
The sorting station, still open for business.

Painted rocks. That puff pastry I got at Tartine. The handprint inscriptions in the driveway that get chiseled away with a renovation and become a childhood fresco on the walls of our memories. All real art. All meaningful. All of it took care and consideration. So who am I to judge?

I give myself these temporary art assignments to remind myself that attachment to things is materialism, not art. I can love the art, but coveting all of it is a creative sin, and there's not enough room in my garage for too much more evil. Enjoying the process means letting go of the guilt, the self-judgement, the need to make a thing. Sometimes what we need is simply to check out and give our minds a wander break. A little mind candy and a movie.

That is why this one lives in our temporary crafts collection, next to the slime with a one-week lifespan and the rice that ends up in the vacuum. The pebbles came from the sea. Eventually, one way or another, everything goes back.

My favorite pebble art pins

A white frame holding a mosaic of pebbles and sea glass arranged into a sun and scattered blooms
As finished as it ever got, which is to say: gorgeous, and not finished.

Meanwhile, I will keep reviewing these pins AS IF I am capable of and about to do these very designs myself. I am not. But the reviewing is its own hobby now.

What is the project you keep almost starting? Tell me in the comments, and bring your pins, I clearly collect those too.

If this gave you an idea worth trying, there's more where it came from. Follow along on Pinterest (@CraftandBondCo) and Instagram (@craftandbondco) for new projects, recipes, and the occasional honest mess, and save this post so you can find your way back to it.