Host for CreativeMornings Grand Rapids and writer for Herman Miller. I also own Spectacle Design Studio, an invitation and stationery design studio. (Profile photo by the kickass Alicia Magnuson: http://www.aliciamagnusonphoto.com/.)
books, proofreading, writing, wedding invitations, stationery, paper, color schemes, font pairings
figuring out how to get to space in my lifetime.
the list of presidents in order, the Spanish alphabet, my college ID number, all the words to Gangsta's Paradise
I'd share how to make the best pie crust, with a cameo from my grandma, who is pie queen.
Molly B.’s CreativeMornings activity
I think I might always be afraid of commitment but I can say for certain that when I find something worth holding onto, I don’t let go.
Art can be truly functional, and it is essential. Art and music and dance can open minds and hearts and give people hope, foster a sense of community, and I love when it does that.
Every so often it’s a good idea to get out your compass and figure out where you are and remember where you were going. But you have to embrace the meander because the detours are what make your journey unique and what bring you to interesting conclusions.
What changed in me at that point was that I was more receptive to the inconsistencies that an art career had to offer. I was actually pretty energized by the unpredictability. I was more flexible … more confident … and less idealistic from having any deadlines. I was willing to acknowledge that I had to be bad at it before I could get good at it.
So I started really working on illustration. I made opportunities for myself where there weren’t some.
Commitment is all about hitting the bumps in the road, taking unexpected twists and turns, and recalibrating.
I had time and space to dig into my brain and experiences, and I was learning a lot about what was there and what I wanted and what I was truly capable of. I wanted to be an illustrator, damnit!
I felt so relieved to find a fun job, to have clear objectives and constraints. And so I went for years without making any personal work and I was perfectly content … until I wasn’t.
I was always finding little ways to include drawing in my work.
I started loathing the path that I was on … loathing, not loving, and mistrusting the art world.
I also was in an experimental noise band for a very short while. The fun fact is that you don’t have to know how to play an instrument to play an instrument in an experimental noise band.
What I wasn’t willing to acknowledge at that time was that anything that was worth committing to was fraught with risk … I was wishy washy and indecisive. And I wasn’t interested in committing myself to anything in which I’d have to potentially fail at something I love. I mean, how willing was I really to pursue my dream?
I won the happy childhood lottery and I don’t take that for granted.
I’ve relished every opportunity to break free and change direction and to quit and to hit restart. The longer I live, the more I realize that commitment and freedom can—and do—peacefully exist.
My whole life I’ve been seeking independence.
Regardless of scale, commitment is hard. And I always think of the word forever when I think of commitment. Like, I'm going to be on some straight and narrow path for the rest of my life if I commit to something.
As a lifelong artist, divorcée, and a grad school dropout, I feel that I am sufficiently qualified to have some thoughts on this topic. And I recently got bangs, which some of you know is a huge commitment.
Libby VanderPloeg Taking a Scenic Route Toward Commitment
AB (Adrian) Butler Learning the Game for Me
Karen Tracey Courage can't exist without fear