Cut out to be a crafter

I remember cutting up cardboard boxes in the back of my Mum and Dad’s shop, where I entertained myself during long summer holidays, fashioning things to play with, indulging in creative ideas. “Can’t you sit still for five minutes? You’re always licking and sticking,” my Mum would complain from behind the counter. I was too young to walk down to the seafront on my own and my parents worked seven days a week. But I didn’t mind that, I was completely absorbed and consumed by my latest creative whim, intensely mindful and entirely in the moment. It was the kind of creativity where the project at hand was so pressing, and the process so instantly gratifying, that perching uncomfortably on a chair-edge, getting cramp in your leg and forgetting to finish your half-eaten jam sandwich barely registered.

They say as the twig is bent, so the tree is inclined, and I have never stopped cutting and sticking since.

I arrived at university, where I used my scissors to explore materials and compositions in experimental craft, on a path to realising my potential as a graphic designer and exploring more considered and developed creative ideas, with a passion to take on the world and a want to create the perfect project.

And then the perfect project came eight years later; as a bride-to-be I put more of my attention into the design and hand-crafting of our wedding stationery and favours than anything else I arranged. I was in my element surrounded by pearlescent cardstock, self-adhesive diamantés and spools of satin ribbon. I designed two versions of invitations with a different format for our evening guests, the pages finished off with the use of my corner-rounder. I designed our table plan and hand-finished it, complete with my own linear Art Deco style symbols to represent us, and repeated them on the tables too, instead of giving them a number or name (one of them was a symbol for crafts of course). In my mind we were in an elegant glistening Art Deco dream and I did my best to realise that in card.

Today, when I am not graphic designing, I enjoy exploring the craft of junk journaling. This is a wonderfully creative craft because it is essentially making something from nothing; collecting and cutting out bits of ephemera, tags and papers and binding them in any way you like to create a handmade book. There is no right or wrong way to do this, which is another reason why I love it. I lay out all of the relevant bits from my collections and craft supplies and before long I’m in my element again; incorporating lace, coordinating colours and textures of paper, card, envelopes and ribbon. Embellishing an array of beautiful collaged imaginings; conjuring up scenes, evoking feelings of serenity, elegance, romance and love. I love this craft so much; the collection and repurposing of transient objects, translating them into bound collections; the adornment of them with layers of embroidery, pearl beads and charms. The combinations of collaged ephemeral fragments, the creation of something from nothing. The result is a tactile, richly textured, eclectically harmonious and entirely unique piece that has come from items that could so readily have been discarded, making the process good for the environment as well as the soul.

For me it is a form of escapism. I am inspired by anything dreamy and bright; the beauty of far-away landscapes, romantic ideas and visions of vintage nostalgia. And like a craft stash magpie, I will collect anything evocative and file it away for a later date, and the eventual matching of it to other items of ephemera; the ribbon in ‘just the right shade of green’, and ‘that ornate tag from your anniversary gift’. For me, this part of the process is as gratifying as holding the finished article in my hands, before it is wrapped up in coloured tissue paper secured with a ‘Handmade with love by Lucy’ sticker, ready to be gifted to a loved one.

The best bit, of course, is the giving. When you pass someone a present and watch them unwrap it curiously, trying to guess what is under the layers of wrapping, their interest piquing at the sight of the sticker, they know you have crafted them something and it could be anything - what is it? And when they see that you have put so many hours and consideration into the item, that you have really got their personality captured in their gift and that you have done all of this for them, they feel how loved they are, and that is the best feeling. It makes it worthwhile, when you’ve accidentally stabbed yourself with a sewing needle, scattered beads all over the floor and got glue on your brand new jeans.

And behind every good craft project? A good pair of scissors. They go a step further than ‘creating something from nothing’; they remove material, to ultimately enhance the project. They subtract to add. They are a sharp, swift pathfinder, precisely cutting their route. And yet, the result is a warm heartfelt gift, lovingly handmade, embracing its recipient. Scissors - so unassuming. Always there; a handy staple in the midst of the junk-drawer-jumble. And behind so many meaningful actions and great creative projects.

I couldn’t be a crafter without my scissors, and so without them I couldn’t be me. Moments of being overtaken by the desire to create and forgetting to eat is time well-spent; in being an adult, searching for the key to happiness, for meaning and purpose in everything I do, I don’t think I was far wrong as a child in the back of the shop, amongst empty cardboard boxes, a pair of scissors in my hand, and my imagination.