The cold seems to be settling in as of late, after a warm and beautiful fall season on the east coast. It is now dark around 5:30pm here in Halifax. The optimist in me holds onto the resolve that the long evenings of the colder months are great for scheming, production, organizing & making. The animal in me responds to the darkness with an unwinding of fortitude---drawn towards warm resting places to surrender the the pull of the slower season. I hope to maintain a balance.
Shifting into production mode in the studio, I'm preparing for the upcoming bustle of the holiday season. X-mas orders have already been coming in! Fervour's Own will be at the Halifax Crafters Holiday Fair this year on December 5, 6 & 7th, 2014. If you are in Halifax that weekend, be sure to drop in---it is always a great time with so much incredible talent to check out. I usually bring along with me a collection of pieces that I produce in limited runs---made of salvaged & reclaimed materials---that aren't available via the website or for wholesale (button studs, leather pieces, etc). So come visit!
Besides being a blur of sun-soaked swimming adventures and other summertime spectacles, the past number of months were spent producing work to send off to shops, planning and organizing a pretty epic photo shoot that happened in August, working on a new website, and designing/making a few custom pieces. These custom pieces were fun and challenging. One commission was quite simple and smooth to roll out while another turned out to be quite the adventure; a longer haul, full of experimentation and learning. Both satisfying in their own ways. I am thankful for having been connecting with some really super clients.
Individual posts about a couple of the projects I just mentioned will be on their way before too long. For now, let this be a brief overview of what my hands have been dirty with, and an acknowledgement of the shifts in seasons and energy.
Another year gone, leaving everywhere
its rich spiced residues: vines, leaves,
the uneaten fruits crumbling damply
in the shadows, unmattering back
from the particular island
of this summer, this NOW, that now is nowhere
except underfoot, moldering
in that black subterranean castle
of unobservable mysteries - roots and sealed seeds
and the wanderings of water. This
I try to remember when time's measure
painfully chafes, for instance when autumn
flares out at the last, boisterous and like us longing
to stay - how everything lives, shifting
from one bright vision to another, forever
in these momentary pastures.