The middle distance
I’ve been fascinated by computers since I was little. I remember seeing a TRS-80 Level I on a counter at Radio Shack and being almost insanely excited. My father broke down and bought one for me, and I spent countless hours watching the two little asterisks blinking in the upper right corner of the screen as a program loaded from cassette tape. (Anyone else remember this?) And then there was the Commodore 64, and then the Mac, and on and on.
And then there was the web. What a limitless expanse for someone like me. So while I was working as a glorified office manager at WEAC, I started fooling around with web pages. I loved it so much that I finagled a web job there that didn’t exist before I came along. I built new systems that solved problems; it was fun and challenging and used all my talents.
I love the web because it combines design, writing, library science, computers, public relations and all kinds of other disciplines into something that’s greater than the sum of its parts. That’s magic.
And I loved the web so much that when things got stifling at WEAC, I chucked a safe and secure job in favor of web freelancing full-time. It’s been frustrating at times, but I love taking a client’s idea and making it into a finished site. Follow your bliss, Joseph Campbell said, and in a lot of ways I think I’ve done just that.
Lately, though, I get the impulse a lot to chuck all my computers out the window and go build furniture. Well not furniture exactly, but I get the impulse to create something in the real world. Scott told me the other day that he’d like to be a baker. That sort of thing. Maybe I could become a chef. Or a printer. Or a painter. Something physical, that’s not just pixels on a screen.
I feel like I’ve spent half my life staring at a screen, and no matter how compelling the images on that screen are, it’s got to get old eventually. Right now, it feels pretty old.
I want to look into the middle distance occasionally, and not just to rest my eyes.
There’s something to be said about working with the hands, with real materials and not electronics. Both my husband and I spend inordinate amounts of time on computers — at work and at home. Without them we’d be unhappy. But we also have other things — I make jewelry with beads, with wire, with precious and semi-precious stones, with a needle and thread. There’s incredible satisfaction to be found in holding what you’ve made in your hand. My husband does some jewlery, but also turns and carves wood and draws. We’ve made a side business from selling what we make. It balances out the computer driven/dependent part of our lives.
You often talk about cooking. You appear to be a good cook. Maybe that’s an outlet. Make a complicated something or anothe r– a fancy cake, an incredible soup, a casserole to die for, a pie (including the crust. It takes a real artist to make a good crust from scratch.) Take pictures of it when you are done. Then eat it messily with friends.
Or go to the local craft store and wander around, looking at stuff, until you find something you want to touch. Or a kit you can make that if you mess up, it was cheap. Buy construction paper and glue and make collages. Find something ELSE that makes you happy and occasionally frustrated and more often intrigued and thoroughly pleased with yourself. Good luck!
I feel your pain. I would like to combine to of my great loves, art and science. That is why I have been thinking alot about glass and clay as mediums. There are many interesing paths to choose from. I just need the guts to try it.
That’s why I knit. Not only is it something real, it also keeps me warm, is pretty, and is a good use of sitting-on-the-bus time.
This is one appeal music has for me that the web cannot match. It can’t be held, true, but it can be heard. It’s something I can say I created from scratch, and when I play it, it has the potential to make people happy, sad, think, etc.