Riding My Own Wave
Riding the Wave
Ocean-colored yarn and a wave tapestry chart signal the start of a new crochet design, inspired by the rhythm, color, and energy of the sea.
Not because I had a plan, or a strategy, or something polished to say. But because my head has been full—full of ocean breezes, the sound of waves rolling in, and that quiet pull that keeps bringing me back to the things that make me feel like myself.
Lately I’ve been dreaming about the Atlantic. Not in a big dramatic way, but in small flashes: salt air, long horizons, the rhythm of waves that seem to remind you to breathe a little deeper. I keep picturing myself riding those waves—sometimes literally, sometimes creatively. It feels like my brain has been floating out there, drifting between ideas.
Some of those ideas show up when I’m crocheting.
I’m working toward my crochet instructor certification, and it’s funny how patterns start forming in my head before they ever touch yarn. Shapes, textures, stitches—they start to build themselves while I’m walking, making coffee, or lying awake at night. I can almost see them before they exist.
And then there’s denim.
I keep imagining these upcycled denim jackets—well-worn, broken-in, the kind that already has a story. Jackets that Wear the Wave. Crochet patches, ocean motifs, stitched textures that feel handmade and alive. Pieces that look like they’ve been to the beach a hundred times.
Nothing mass produced. Just art you can throw on and live in.
At the same time, I’m slowly getting my glass studio back in order. Not rushing it. Just putting things where they belong, clearing space, making room for the next phase of creating. Sometimes the act of organizing a studio is its own kind of creative reset.
A quiet reset.
“No time pressure. No chasing likes. No worrying about promotion.
I’m just going to make things and wear the wave.”
Part of what sparked this shift has been listening to Amie McNee’s audiobook. Something about the way she talks about artists and creative life just clicked for me. It reminded me that being an artist isn’t about chasing algorithms, or constantly trying to sell something, or worrying about whether people are paying attention.
It’s about making.
It’s about listening to the ideas that keep tapping you on the shoulder and saying, “Hey… what about this?”
So for now, I’m changing the rules.
No time pressure.
No obsession with selling.
No worrying about promotion.
No checking for likes.
Honestly? No worrying about what’s going on in the world either. There’s too much noise out there, and I’d rather spend my energy making something with my hands.
I’m just going to do me.
Crochet.
Glass.
Denim.
Ocean dreams.
Sketching patterns that haven’t been born yet.
I’m going to keep showing up to the journal, keep following the ideas that feel like waves rolling in.
And I’m going to keep Wearing the Wave.
Artist Note:
I’ve been listening to We Need Your Art by Amie McNee*, and it’s been a real wake-up call. Her message that artists should keep making—regardless of noise, trends, or pressure—has been exactly what I needed to hear.