There’s a certain kind of heat you have to learn to stand in when you choose a path like this. Not just the kind that comes from the torch or the material. The kind that gives you feelings of uncertainty. Worry about your future.
Choosing metal and glass as a career feels a lot like standing in that line of fire.
People love to remind me that art is risky. That it’s unstable, unpredictable and guarantees anything. The funny thing is they’re not wrong. There’s no clean, predictable path laid out. No promise that the work you pour yourself into will always come back to support you.
But here’s what people don’t get: I didn’t choose this path because it was safe. I chose it because it is not just a career path but a lifestyle I strive for.
Working with metal and glass is not just a hobby. It requires attention. It demands patience. It needs me to show up fully, even when things don’t go the way you planned. You can’t rush glass to cool. You can’t force metal into a shape it doesn’t want to become. You have to try, adjust and try again.
The process of failing, learning, reshaping is exactly why I chose this.
When I’m working, I can see my efforts develop in real time. The heat, the pressure, the precision it all matters. Every mistake teaches me something new. Every success feels worth it. It’s not an abstract outcome. It’s physical. It’s real.
Though, yes, it’s risky. I know that.
Choosing a path that feels safe but boring sounds like the worst choice for me. Having to spending years wondering what would’ve happened if you had just tried.
I’d rather stand in the heat than live with that question.
When choosing this path I don’t pretend the risks aren’t real. I accepted them and use that uncertainty to push myself. It’s about trusting that the skills I’m building. Creativity, resilience, adaptability, it all matters. It’s about believing that the work I do has value, even if it doesn’t always follow a traditional path.
Also maybe most importantly, it’s about enjoying the process.
