It was Christmastime and I found myself blanking out thinking about what to get my friends and colleagues for the holidays. See, I follow these rules when gifting: it must be something they won’t get for themselves, but is something they will use or bring them joy. I had just moved to Singapore and everyone around me seemed content, or at least had considerable financial stability to buy whatever they wanted. What do you get those who seem to have everything?
Maybe it was my inner child waking up and reaching out because I had deprived it of attention and creative outlets. I decided to do something more personalised and homemade. Unlike most people, I’m not blessed with the patience and skill to bake, but I do have the resourcefulness of a child who grew up without playmates, needing to conjure wonder and entertainment out of thin air. I’ll make something for them. Maybe I subconsciously wanted another tattoo but couldn’t decide on what epithelial real estate was next, or what reminder I needed for myself… but slow strokes, memorable messages, and personalised symbols seemed to be the way to get this done. I’ll carve or burn something onto wood.
I found myself buying a starter kit and spending a whole weekend with a surgical mask and some goggles, singing as I etched Pusheen the cat under calligraphy script writing of “Claire”. I made close to 50 pyrographed coasters that Christmas.
What started out as a quirky solution to my gifting dilemma soon became a means to calm the creative itch, the need to fiddle and make something tangible, and created one of my strongest olfactive associations. The scent of burnt wood soon became synonymous with mindfulness and productivity. It was a reminder that creativity is not just about producing art; it’s about finding solace, expressing oneself, and connecting with the world and people around us. The slow strokes became therapeutic, and later this skill would be added to my toolbelt of things I just happened to know to do and whip out even at work when presentations needed a warm, human touch.
Pyrography taught me that every skill we acquire, no matter how small or insignificant it may seem, has the potential to enrich our lives. It’s not just about creating art; it’s about expanding our horizons, pushing our boundaries, and discovering new facets of ourselves.
So, the next time you find yourself yearning to learn something new, remember that every skill, every hobby, every passion has the potential to transform your life in ways you never imagined.
Ever thought about the magic that lies in the everyday? Dive into the world of Burnt Words and other scorched sentiments on Instagram. Let it inspire you to find magic in the mundane.