Valentine’s Wreath (and what I learned about myself)
One of my best friends is fellow, professional craft spokesperson, Jennifer Perkins. Over the years we’ve made countless (at least in the high, triple digits) projects together either for work or as part of the craft dates we have semi-regularly with friends. Often we’re also fortunate enough to get to play with products that companies send us. This was the case for our latest, crafty foray: Valentine’s Wreaths.
Jen’s the Cheif Jazz Hander (likely not her actual title, but it should be) for Treetopia who just so happens to make the most beautiful, pink wreaths a girl ever did see. She used her pull, and the company sent wreaths ripe for the decorating. This of course, seems like a wonderful opportunity to a.) get crafty with friends, b.) make a holiday project — one of my favorite things to do, and c.) embrace our inner kitsch. For the most part, all of those things rang true. We gathered; we had wine; there were boxes and boxes worth of varied supplies for the sharing. Overall, good times were had. It was during the creation of this project (Why this one, out of the aforementioned hundreds –made in a similar setting– before it?) however, that I discovered something about myself that didn’t make me craft-happy. Surrounded by piles of pretty paper, endless ephemera, vintage Valentine’s-a-plenty, tons of tinsel, and seemingly billions of baubles I felt utterly uninspired. Worse, I knew it wasn’t because I didn’t love everything I saw. Nor was it because I didn’t want to dive right in to make one of the completely eclectic, totally covered wreaths I’ve drooled over for years at art festivals. I did. I realized that for this type of project, though — different than the aforementioned hundreds we’ve crafted together before — required utter abandonment of expectation. It required the ability to let go and just see where the supplies took us. It required a lack of need for control. These, dear readers, are apparently not my best traits. After all, as of late my career (and therefore creative endeavors) has been almost solely focused on knit and crochet both of which are usually created with a definitive multiple of stitches, often with schematics, and almost always with a distinct beginning and end.
Crochetd Heart: Bernat Sheep(ish) by Vickie Howell
It was at that moment that the presence of my Virgo rising sign shown it’s true strength. I sat there amidst the mess — the glorious chaos that my dear friend relishes in– and felt crippled. Thankfully, she (along with other trusted advisers, Andee aka Betty Crafter, and Malbec aka nectar of the Gods) were there to walk me through the process. They gave me small bits of encouragement along with the permission to fail. After all, hot glue isn’t the end-all-be-all of adhesives, and a Valentine’s wreath wasn’t (for the love of Pete!) going to take me down!
Heart Pompom: Made with Bernat Sheep(ish) by Vickie Howell
So I grabbed, and I glued, and I went for it. The result: is some beautiful crazy. I love that kind of crazy.
Truth be told, though my comfort with this piece is really thanks to a few, sporadically placed security blankets. Look closely and you’ll see the tie that binds me to creativity is still present: yarn. Lean in and you (fellow fiber lovers) will spy heart-shaped pompoms, crocheted Valentines, and small, felted balls.
Crocheted Valentines: Bernat Cotton-ish by Vickie Howell
After all, stepping out of my comfort zone is one thing. Completely abandoning that of which is my heart, is a whole different story!
Felted Yarn Ball: Patons Classic Wool Roving
Now that you’ve listened to my rant, are you ready to make your own Valentine’s Day wreath? Excellent. Here’s what to do. First, check out the wreaths by other artists on the V-Day Wreath Blog Hop.
Jennifer Perkins
Kathy Cano Murillo
Amy Anderson
Jenny Heid & Aaron Nieradka
Next, head on over to Treetopia and enter to win your very own, blank wreath to get you started.
Enjoy, and may the wreath-peace be with you!
xx,
Vickie
@VickieHowell
