I know I am not the only person who ever experiences self-doubt. Apart from the obvious, Why would he be interested in me with my stretch marks and crooked teeth?, or I’m sure they’ll never hire me over that sexy 25-year old MBA graduate, there is also the one where you give up before you’ve even started: There’s really no point in trying to write a novel/ learn to quilt/ design your own clay bowl because you’re useless and everyone else has already done it better. Don’t even waste your time, budget brains.
So, as I plan my day of last-minute preparations for our Open Day tomorrow, I find I am having to contend with that sarcastic, self-deprecating voice in my head that says, No-one will want to buy anything you’ve made, fool, it’s too average. In an effort to squash it, to kick it in the guts with all my strength, I took a little wander around my flat and took pictures of just a few of the things I own which other people have made, and which I love .
In random order: a ceramic jug, a lino cut, a knitted teddy bear (made by Anne), a porcelain doll with crocheted clothes that used to belong to my dad when he was small, a painted plate, a woodcarving from Bali, a decoupaged hook holder, a felt rabbit, a mosaic heart (by Francois Kolver), and a clay pot.
Perhaps the people who made these also sometimes wondered what the hell they thought they were doing. Yet here these things are, validated by my choice and ownership of them, and representing so much more than just their material selves.
Right, shoulders back, chin up. Let me go and give a final rub to those mosaic mirrors.
To be continued…