the transformation of crafting

I don’t consider myself much of a crafter.

I don’t know how to knit or needlepoint. I don’t weave, macrame, or woodwork.

And although we had an arts supply closet full of construction paper, glue sticks, scissors, crayons, paints, fabric scraps, shells, googly eyes, pipe cleaners, and popsicle sticks when our kids were younger, I haven’t actually been in there since then. That was quite a while ago. 

So, when a friend called this fall, asking if I would be interested in four very old, dirty, and tarnished brass nautical lamps, I didn’t jump at the offer.

However, I did go over to his house to take a look. And as advertised, the lamps were indeed old, dirty, and tarnished.

He recommended that I take them to a silversmith. So, I did. The silversmith, after pointing to the $150-an-hour sign, suggested that I do it myself.

“It will take all winter,” he said.

And maybe it was the challenge — how could polishing lamps take all winter? — but reluctantly, I decided to give it a go.

So, on my first quiet winter weekend, I grabbed a lamp and the supplies I had purchased, cranked up some music, and committed to an afternoon of “crafting.”

I am not sure if it was the anticipation of a solo afternoon or the prospect of getting started, but I was oddly excited.

Armed with a soapy sponge and a bucket of warm water, I went to work.

Immediately, I was reminded of the many times our dogs have emerged from the Long Island Sound, wet and muddy.

A preliminary run of the hose removed some of the superficial sludge, but greater attention was needed to clean the more intricate areas - beneath the nails, the snout, and the eyelids.

The same was true with the lamp - after a good cleaning, I used an old toothbrush to get into the harder-to-reach crevices.

Getting beneath the dirt gave me an initial rush. The lamp was no longer dirty; just old and tarnished.

It was time to polish. 

To be clear, I was a novice polisher; aside from a few pieces of flatware, I truly had no experience. My kids introduced me to YouTube “how to” videos, and the perfect one guided me through the strong and overwhelming odor of the chemicals.

Did I mention I was wearing rubber gloves?

Hands protected, I polished while our dogs looked up at me with long faces— “Wouldn’t a walk or a game of toss be fun right about now?”

But I was not to be deterred.

Time and sore wrists were the price I paid for the first semblance of shine. A very small area of the base that was once dull…was now just a little less dull.

Success breeds success: I kept going.

I got a little lost in my own world (maybe that is one of the gifts of crafting; it's meditative in nature).

Buff. Breathe. Buff. Breathe. 

I was finding my rhythm and the peace that comes with being quiet.

Sure, my mind wandered off…

Is Monday a bank holiday? Will our children know a world that is peaceful and kind? I need to get my black loafers resoled. Did I return that email? Order dog food? Read the board notes? Write the piece? Make the reservation? Cancel the reservation?

I noticed I was wasting precious energy on the past, anxious about the future, and not very good at staying in the present.

So, I returned repeatedly to the job at hand - the lamp and the polish.

I spent close to five hours on my lamp that Saturday afternoon.

Light turned to dark. Dull to shine.

The small pile of dirty cloths grew increasingly bigger, and I noticed that just when I thought I had restored an area of the lamp to its original beauty, there was more tarnish to remove.

I would swipe the cloth over an area, expecting it to come away clean, but there it was—more black residue. It seemed to never end.

And isn’t that just like life - or at least my life? Not necessarily the removal of black residue, but the peeling back of layers.

I work my way through one conflict, one issue, one mental block, one heartache, and even one joyful occasion, and then just when I think I have gotten somewhere—and certainly I have—I come to realize that there is more to uncover. 

Patience, pause, and perseverance; the work progresses, but is never done.

And maybe that is not a bad thing—there is always more to polish.

But then again, there is always more shine, and shine is my goal.

In the end, I lost the challenge. The silversmith was right – not only had it taken all winter, but I am still not finished and it’s now spring.

However, those quiet winter weekends taught me a few lessons.

It’s magical to watch transformation.

Buff. Breathe. Buff. Breathe.

There is solace and slog in the process. 

But making way for the shine reminded me that there is endless potential in all of us, no matter how old and tarnished.

I still don’t consider myself much of a crafter, but I am richer because of it - or at the very least $150 an hour richer…and a little proud that I did it myself.