Before I share my latest variation on the Multiplicity theme, I have to get something off my chest. Be advised: this post contains adult language.
There is a spiritual dimension to craft that we rarely discuss. Offering for sale the work of our hands and hearts, our inner vision made manifest and physical, does not diminish that spirituality nor its soul-weight. The time and talent and intensity that comprises each act of creation is of our being, containing our essence. It doesn't matter if the piece was the work of a year or but a moment - still it holds some piece of the artist's soul. And when some lowlife scumbag knuckledragging mouthbreather of a cowardly dipshit steals your art, you take it pretty f**king hard.
Have you ever been so angry you ended up with a headache?
This morning I'd planned on giving the gift cabinet a serious cleaning and double checking the inventory. I was thunderstruck to find two items had been "donated to a person or persons unknown against my will."
I can't recreate these. I found the alabaster 'donut' stones when I first began beading and have never found any others like them since. And the person who made the lampwork beads (about two years ago) has discontinued their glassworking. The rings weren't very expensive, but is that really what's at issue? I mean, we've had books shoplifted before, but never my beadwork - not in the 15 plus years I've been selling it - in the bookstore, on consignment or at craft shows.
I took everything out of the cabinet, finished the inventory and cleaned the shelves from top to bottom - all the while thinking and feeling a whirlwind - People suck. I'm taking everything off display and putting it under lock and key. I'm never making anything for sale again. I want to kill someone. People REALLY suck. Am I over-reacting? I should quit selling my stuff in the store, do online sales only. I don't want to do craft shows again. What's the point of creating anything if it's just going to get stolen? What arrogant, thoughtless, selfish, ass-hat, douche-bag, piece of shit passing for human slimed its way in here without my noticing? I
think I know the bitch pig from hell who did it - but I can't be 100% sure. I don't get it!! Why?? What would I have done if something really valuable had been taken? Should I count myself lucky that it wasn't one of the dolls or ponies or wearable art pieces?
And I resent feeling all the things I'm feeling - rage, impotence, hate,
frustration, distrust . . .
I 've removed all the upper end items out of the display case - it's now stocked with all my clearance and lower-end merchandise and earrings. I found a tiny door alarm and installed it in the cabinet. I absolutely
HATE that such a thing is now necessary. I'll eventually display a few of my more interesting pieces once we install a lock on the cabinet (the idea of which makes me curl up inside and
die a little) and I get a little more emotional distance from this.
Deep breath.
When I finished this one, Asa said it reminded him of Pink Champagne, and so it is named.
Now it is time for something to drink. Something alcoholic, preferably 80 proof.
