The yips

Wikipedia defines the Yips as:

…an expression describing an apparently baseless sudden loss of ability in one of a number of different sports.

The Wikipedia fairy needs to amend that definition to include the arts.

For the past ten days I’ve been in my studio for hours and hours everyday, not finishing up until nine or ten at night, and yet nothing has been completed until today.   I’ve  made the same pieces, over and over, only to destroy them as I get to the last details.  And the pieces which were finally finished today? I handed them over to Karen to polish, knowing there was a very good chance I would destroy the pieces again at the last minute if I kept my hands on them a moment longer.  And while Karen polished, I destroyed several more things.

It’s the studio yips; it’s happened before, and it will happen again.

I overheat, I undermeasure, I roll through the rolling mill without annealing and crack the gold, I gouge things while setting stones.  I should not be allowed near my studio, because I can’t do anything right, right now.  I would say it’s the pressure of so many orders flooding in, but I don’t think that’s the case.  In the past I’ve had busy times when I’ve worked so smoothly, so adeptly, that it was all I could do to not stop and erect a monument to  my mad skillz.  The pressure of running behind on orders because of the troublesome absence of mad skillz doesn’t help the yips pass quickly, though.

The yips just happen.  My mojo….what has become of my badass killa mojo?   It’s gone missing.    This is why John Daly drinks.

I’m going to go cry now, and I hope my customers don’t cancel all their orders, and tell everyone I suck.  My little business would go under, and then we will all die a horrible death.  The end.


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