I’m off to Santa Fe where I’ll be teaching a workshop on Objects of Devotion (and it looks like rain most of the way). There are dark clouds of every kind all around us.

So, one of the last tasks I needed to finish was a review of the editors’ introduction to Wax Fusion, the publication of the International Encaustic Artists, which will be out at the end of October. The theme is finding light in dark times.

“We are living through uncertain times, when it can be hard to see what lies ahead. Such moments ask us to be resilient and adaptable, but also to reach toward one another with compassion.”

I want to add a small invitation: reach out with your hands, too. Make something to hold onto.

Shape a small vessel. Wrap a rock with twine. Gather scraps of cloth into a bundle with a few charms tucked inside. Fold and stitch a little handmade book, even if you don’t yet know what belongs on its pages.

When I’m afraid, my thoughts tend to circle the same uneasy territory. Working with my hands gives that restless energy somewhere to go. There is a thread to pull, a piece of clay to press, an edge to fold. My attention returns to what is here, within reach.

The object doesn’t have to be beautiful or useful. Let it carry something you need: courage, tenderness, a memory, a hope. Your time and attention give it meaning.

Start small. Give your hands something creative to do. Hold on to it.

Making something won’t resolve the uncertainty around us. But it can give us a tangible reminder that we still have the capacity to care, to choose, and to bring something into being. That feels like a comforting pushback against fear and darkness.

And afterward, there it is—in your palm, on your worktable, beside your bed. Something you made. Something you can touch when you need to remember that the light comes back. ♥

“Art is the highest form of hope.”
— Gerhard Richter, painter