what do you do when your memories are no longer yours?

A couple of days ago I was contacted by another seller (who had in turn been contacted by two other sellers about my new shop nova of sweden). They were concerned that I was copying their work. Reading the convo was really hurtful. She wasn't spiteful but it still stung. I had heard her name before but never gone looking for her work. I made a decision a long time ago not to look at others work. It’s so easy to get influenced and I wanted to keep my mind clear. I wanted to continue my path on my own. Without images of others work bouncing around in my head. Now I think that maybe I should have looked at her work. Maybe I would have created something different if I had. But if I did, would it still have been mine? I went to her shop after I read the convo and she creates amazing and beautiful pieces. I could see similarities with one of the things I had listed. We also use the same commercial findings. I could tell she wanted me to remove my listings and I got the feeling that no matter how I explained how my life had lead me to these designs she (or they) would never believe me. So I removed them. I have no desire to be labeled a copycat nor do I want people to see someone else's design in what I create.

When I opened nova of sweden it was finally time for me to dig my hands in the swedish soil and let the dirt fall between my fingers as I planted these wonderful seeds. I had finally come to a point where my skills and my heart had crossed paths. I was ready for more.
I was reliving all my wonderful childhood memories.. Like the time my mother and I was picking flowers in a deserted garden at midnight and then walked home barefoot through the summer rain. I was 6 years old but I remember it like yesterday. The flowers smelled so good and I don't think I've ever been so happy.




I wanted to tell you about my mothers garden. Where the flowers are always in bloom. Regardless of season somehow she works the soil like some artists work metal and create amazing things where there was nothing before. But despite all the big colorful creations I was always drawn to the little timid flowers. The forget me nots that so quietly and happy just lived in a corner of her garden. Those are the ones I remember the most.






I wanted to show you the lakes and water that surrounds us. The instant calm you get from it. How I used to sit by the lake and watch the fish touch the surface and create rings on the water that would spread and grow forever. How we used to run home when the water drops started falling from the sky. How the rain would wash everything clean until there were no traces left of yesterday. Only a new day ahead of you.






I wanted to tell you about how the season changes. About the snow that covers everything like a warm blanket. A snow that is anything but white. A snow you can make angels in. A snow that is more beautiful than anything else you will ever see.
But instead I struggle. How do you tell a story or share a memory when you’ve been told that those memories are no longer yours? I fear to let my torch touch metal again. I fear that yet another memory will be compared and picked apart until there is nothing left that’s mine. I feel a little sad.. a little trampled on. I know all designers are very protective of what’s theirs, but I ask that you to look in the mirror before you tell someone that what they dream is not theirs to dream. Are you truly that original, that there is no chance that someone else might have similar ideas? I don’t know. I don’t have all the answers. I only know what I know. Or at least what I thought I knew.

So here I am. Awaiting that little ray of sunshine that will come and warm up my heart after the storm. So that once the dust has settled and the pain goes away I can start over. I only ask one thing. That before you judge others, take a moment to smell the flowers and let the sun warm up your heart. And tell me, do you think your flowers smell any different from mine? Do you think the sun feels any different from where you stand?

love //tess