Several months ago I was inspired by the origami work of Sipho Mabona. At the time I was in a bit of a creative funk (read: self-pitying cesspool), and seeing his work was one of many things that slowly drew me out. Karen and I moved into our place a little over a year and a half ago, but save fresh colored paint on the walls we had done very little to express ourselves in our new space. Here I was, being professionally-creative every day, but my home showed no flickers of that creative flame.
In order to force myself to get to work I stopped by Art Supply Warehouse and bought myself a canvas, paints, brushes and some beautiful origami papers.
Origami—especially the repetitive kind—has always had a bit of a calming effect on me, so for a few nights in a row I spent a thirty minutes or so folding origami koi fish following a pattern I’d found online.
Then, like so many projects, it fell by the wayside. The few fish I’d finished, perhaps fifteen or so, sat in a plastic Target bag in my garage for at least two months.
But unlike many of my past exploits, a few weeks ago, I went looking for my bag of paper koi and began folding again. I had recently been learning the art of discipline in my work, and somehow in my mind this project had become the symbol for my newfound lifestyle.
If I could finish the koi, I could finish anything.
And so I folded. And folded. And folded. And finally I ran out of paper. The finish line was in sight.
On Thursday and Friday Karen and I completely re-arranged our living room. Perhaps it was a nesting thing. (Did I mention we’re expecting in February?)
Since we were moving all the furniture and re-thinking our wall spaces and what might hang on them, I figured it was as good a time as any. I picked up some super glue and floral needles and began the second tedious phase of the project: gluing the needles into the paper fish.
With that finished I began to arrange them on the wall, pushing the tips of the needles into the drywall using a pair of needle-nosed pliers.
And suddenly, it was finished.
I’m quite pleased with the final product.
I am a Finisher.