A Map or a Compass?
They say that to find your way in the world, you need a map. A map tells you where others have already walked; it outlines the "safe" roads, the established borders, and the predictable destinations. But as an artist who spends my days caught between the clean precision of Dutch design and the unpredictable, primal heat of a Raku kiln, I’ve learned a hard truth: maps are often outdated before the ink is even dry. Life doesn't move in straight lines, and the world doesn't care about your planned detours.
What we need instead is a Compass.
I didn’t stumble into rebellion through art; I’ve been a rebel since I could walk. For me, World of Rebels is simply the latest evolution of a lifelong refusal to follow the herd. I realized that the same resistance I’ve always carried within me—the refusal to be "standardized"—is now expressed through the slow, the ancient, and the handcrafted. Whether I’m binding a notebook, shaping a bowl, or navigating the winding alleys of a foreign city, these five directions aren't just a process—they are my survival strategy for staying human in a world that tries to force us all into the same gray mold.
1. The North: The Quiet of the Now
In an era that worships "faster" and demands "more," the most rebellious act you can perform is to simply slow down. In my studio, time moves differently. If I rush the fold of a single page or the tension of a binding thread, the entire book loses its balance. It becomes a struggle rather than a flow.
Our lives are the same. We are told to "optimize" every minute, but when we choose to be fully present with our hands and our hearts, we reclaim our time from a world that wants to steal it. The North is about finding the stillness in the center of the storm. It’s about the silence before the first mark on the page. When we are present, we are unshakeable.
2. The East: Wisdom of the Ancestors
To move forward, I often find myself looking back. My travels frequently take me to the roots of things—to the places where the "Old Ways" are still etched into the landscape. In Italy, I was captivated by the local Etruscan tradition of Bucchero, a black ceramic that feels as if it holds the shadows of centuries.
This is the direction of heritage. By honoring ancient techniques, we stay tethered to the human story. In a digital age, there is something profoundly grounding about putting your hands in the same clay that people used three thousand years ago. We realize we aren't the first to feel lost, and we aren't the first to find staggering beauty in the raw earth. We are part of a long, unbroken lineage of makers.
3. The South: The Strength in the Fold
In Origami and Paper Art, a fold is a point of tension. It is a moment where the material is forced to change direction. But that fold is also exactly what gives the paper its structural integrity—its ability to stand and hold its own weight.
Our life lessons work the same way. The hard seasons, the losses, and the moments that "crease" us are not marks of weakness or failure. They are the structural points that allow us to become something three-dimensional. We are shaped by what we endure. The South teaches us that without the tension of the fold, we would remain flat and fragile. It is through our "creases" that we find our strength.
4. The West: The Beauty of the Crack
There is a specific, untameable magic in Raku ceramics. You pull the glowing piece from the fire, and as the cold air hits the glaze, it screams and cracks. The "crack" is where the smoke and carbon leave their permanent, jagged mark. No two are ever the same.
In my spiritual life, I’ve stopped trying to glaze over my flaws. The Rebel’s Compass points us directly toward our imperfections, teaching us that the "cracked" parts of our story are often where our greatest light and character reside. A perfect, factory-made bowl has no soul. It is the vessel that has survived the fire, cracks and all, that we find truly beautiful. Your scars aren't mistakes; they are the smoke-marks of your survival.
5. The Center: The Handcrafted Soul
This is the heart of the bridge. Every piece I create is unique and handcrafted, and I believe our lives should be, too. We are not mass-produced objects meant to follow a single, pre-printed mold. We are a messy, gorgeous collection of our travels, our traditions, our failures, and our choices. Living as a Creative Rebel isn't about breaking things just for the sake of being loud. It’s about a quiet, spiritual refusal to live a surface-level life.
The Rebel Lesson: The Courage to Be Custom
In a world that demands mass production, the most radical thing you can do is live a handcrafted life. We are often taught that being "lost" is a failure, but in the studio, being lost is just the beginning of a new form. A map only shows you where others have been; a compass shows you where you need to go.
Being a Creative Rebel isn't about grand gestures or loud protests. It is the quiet, daily refusal to settle for a life that doesn't fit your soul's dimensions. It’s about having the spiritual grit to stay in the "fold" until you're strong enough to stand, and the grace to see the "cracks" in your story as marks of high value. Your life is not a kit to be assembled; it is a masterpiece to be forged, one intentional choice at a time.
Which direction of the compass resonates most with you today? Are you in a season of "The Fold," or are you learning to love your "Cracks"? I’d love to hear how you are navigating your own world in the comments below.
Craft your own path,
Bertie