Hey, Hey, My, My - The Creative Soul Will Never Die

Sewing, quilting, knitting, creating. They run in my bloodline. Only I never fully realized it until now. It should have been obvious. Several of my aunts are expert quilt makers. My mother sewed most of my childhood clothing and dolls. My paternal grandmother still makes purses although she can barely see. My maternal grandmother has presented me with more handmade gifts than I can count over the years, many of which I was too young and too “cool” to fully appreciate at the time. Growing up, I loved to create handmade cards for my mom and I dabbled in furniture painting, all of which gave me tremendous satisfaction. All of which, also, fell away in adulthood.

After a year in college prepping for a major in interior design, I opted for a theatre degree and used the stage as my creative outlet for years. Then, after falling into consciously deciding on a career in investment brokerage and a stint as a small business owner, my creative impulses felt lain to waste. I could barely drum up the energy to make a colored pencil card once a year for my mother.

But, then, one day as I was complaining about x, y, and z for the n^th time that month, I heard a muffled whimper. I listened closer. It was more forceful this time. Then, there was a fist pounding on wood. I scraped at the ground with my bare fingernails until I found it. It was my undying creative soul demanding to be dug out of its early grave. And ever since the moment that I lifted his frail little body into the sunlight, inspiration has been raining down from the sky. I’m currently standing knee deep in plans and schemes. The desire to do something with my hands other than typing is so strong that when a box of discarded business cards landed on my desk recently, a gothic village began to take shape, aided by a glue stick I found. Eventually, the structures became too elaborate to carry on at my desk and too conspicuous to passers-by. Operations have since been relocated to my home and plans blossomed into a line of gothic Christmas villages called Noel Gothique.

I have routinely said that I hate the question, “What’s your passion?”, because I never knew how to answer it. But, the other day, I wrote this sentence without even thinking twice about it: My passions are digging, discovering, dusting off, and rebirthing all forms of discarded objects.

Whoa! There it was. It’s not grandiose and it might not save the world, but those things are what get me really excited. They manifest themselves in picking up furniture off the side of the road, rescuing stray animals, and scavenging through warehouses and thrift stores in search of items worthy of a second chance.

Then, I started a list. It's like a "Makes My Heart Beat Faster" List. It’s just the things that get me really excited. The things that make me feel exuberant. Mine came out like this:

Gypsy Caravans
Vegetarian Cooking
Thrifting
Hats
Writing
Bicycle Knickers
Interior Decorating
Dirigibles
Reusing/UPcycling
Homes on Wheels
Mopeds
Brightly Striped Canvas
Urban Cycling
Linen

Random. Fitting for a renaissance soul like mine.

Here is my first completed project.

I call it La Infanta y Su Precioso. The frame belonged to an ex-boyfriend, the cat broach has been mine since kindergarten, the vine wreath I made while pulling kudzu off the back wall of my store in Tennessee, the doll was discarded by my neighbor’s daughter, and the gears in the background are a broken box top. Who knew that all these wandering objects would find each other and cohabitate so beautifully within the confines of a box destined for the recycling bin?

There’s much, much more in the works… My heart is seizing up just contemplating all of the ways to get my hands dirty.

Right now, I am thrilled for having been asked to create more of the yarn flowers seen in the photo to the right for Kelee Katillac. She is a woman who saved herself and her soul through accessing the creativity inside her and now she is a well-known blogger who has published books, been on numerous television programs, and developed a system of healing through creating sanctuary. And, she likes my scrappy little yarn flowers!!! (Maybe it’s Penny’s adorable-ness that really sells them.)

So, big thanks to my craggy, dehydrated, little waif of a creative soul (in my mind, he looks like a dirt-smudged marionette with a top hat) for reminding me that he will always be there no matter what. I think I will offer him some wine and we will convene this afternoon at the craft table.