Catherine Chandler Jewelry + Objects

The return to the city is always difficult for me.

Sleep doesn't come easily, and the sense of constantly needing to be busy returns to quickly.

If I could sleep outside every night, I would.

(I once lived in my jeep for 6 months--my own choice--and I remember how difficult it was to acclimate back to sleeping indoors afterward. It took months to feel comfortable again.)

I asked myself recently, "What would you do if you knew you couldn't fail?"

The answer?

I would leave the city, buy land, and start a ranch somewhere. Somewhere that I could have horses, and some dogs, a cute house, maybe a river or creek, and my studio. I have always wanted to have a ranch, since I was a little girl.

But, my reality is different, and so I go camping, hiking, or for short adventures in the woods.

Last week, the hubby and I ventured to Crater Lake, Oregon. Being a native Oregonian, I've always found it strange that I've never been to this amazing place. We camped at Diamond Lake, nearby, and spent our days hiking, watching chipmunks (which are actually a type of striped ground squirrel...never knew that one), hiking, and taking photos. I spent a lot of time reading (I finished this, and started this).

The smell of the alpine forests of southern Oregon reminded me immediately of where our family cabin was in South Tahoe. The dark, almost-black soil, and warm pine needles littering the ground. The landscape was similar, too--it must be the altitude.

The smells, the vistas, the absolute wonder of such a beautiful place made me wish I could share it with all those loved ones who have passed. Those men and women that made me who I am today, who showed me how to appreciate that which surrounds us.

And at the same time, I was so grateful to be relatively alone.

Quiet.

In Solitude.

I have learned that the ability to break away from oneself, to step outside of your thoughts and look around, is one of the best tools to healing.

It keeps things in perspective.

Reminds us that there is a whole world outside of us, our thoughts, our inherent selfishness.

I hope you are always able to break away, and take in the wonder that surrounds us.

Breathe deep, my friends.

I've realized recently that all of my actions lately revolve around the need for peace in my life. You may have seen me use the "D-Word" (aka Depression) here before, and when Lisa Congdon talks about anxiety, I cannot help but feel a certain kinship.

The last couple years, my life has resembled various levels of chaos.

Through it, I have doggedly continued to push myself, charging ahead just trying to get through, knowing that I would reach the other side eventually.

This summer seems to be "the other side."

While initially, when summer hit, I continued to work hard, pushing myself, I eventually hit a breaking point.

At the pinnacle, I found myself dealing with the dissolution of multiple relationships--both family and friendship--as well as theft and a few other bumps in the road. The anger, anxiety, and helplessness peaked, and I reached a point where I had to retreat. I pulled into myself, closing myself off as much as possible in an attempt to heal. I'm still there, but it's getting better. I am no longer having nightmares and being plagued by anxiety constantly.

I am finding peace.

I am finding it beneath my feet...

In long-lasting friendships...

In the mist that drifts across the water, caressing my skin, reminding me of what's real, what matters.

I am finding peace in the earth and the trees, the smells of the forest, walks with my husband.

And sometimes, peace finds me....right when I look down and am greeted with a little surprise.

A couple weeks ago, DW and I went to the Lower Lewis River and met up with some old friends for a hike. It was beautiful, the company was fantastic, and after hiking to the Upper Falls and back for three hours, we left feeling grateful and recharged.

One of the biggest lessons from this self-inflicted solitude is to slow down, recharge, be picky about who you surround yourself with.
(I've also found that removing myself from certain social networks, and turning off the ringer on my phone helps immensely.)

Follow your heart.

And remember, that sometimes things fall apart so that better things can fall together.

Belt buckles from Andy's collection. Some made by the artist, others collected.

Recently, I had the honor of assisting Andy Cooperman in his The Art of the Belt Buckle workshop at the Oregon College of Art and Craft. I have been watching Andy's work for years, so when I was asked if I would like to assist him, I jumped at the opportunity, and I'm so glad I did. Not only is Cooperman an incredible metalsmith, but he has overcome obstacles that not everyone would, and is an incredible teacher as well.

Jewelry by Andy Cooperman.

There's something about working with other metalsmiths who are confident, and march to the beat of their own drum, that can really strike a chord in you. I find myself inspired, more confident, and more able to realize my own talents when in that kind of company.

I thrive.

(A little sense of humor helps, too.)

Western-style buckles, in progress.

Finished Western-style buckle, forged from a brass marine washer.

We had a great group for this workshop. Multiple people from out of town, and with a range of skills. For those less experienced, I got to work on my teaching skills while demonstrating soldering techniques and other practices.

Forged taper, by yours truly.

One of my favorite parts of the workshop was learning to forge steel. It was challenging, but extremely gratifying working with hot metal. Being able to change and shape metal--mold it from a relatively flat format to something three-dimensional--is what drew me to metalsmithing in the first place. It's like alchemy. You learn to communicate with it.

It becomes a relationship.

Finished buckles!! Mine are the two in front.

Getting to work with such a talented metalsmith, and other artists, was such a great experience. There was so much joy in what we were doing, even through the struggles of technique and learning new processes. Additionally, through new experiences and conversations, my love of metal was reaffirmed, and I found more focus in how I want to move forward with my work, and with Thesis next year.