Celebrate Creativity

Community celebrations are wonderful opportunities to connect with friends, neighbors, and family. When you live in or near a large metropolitan area, the idea of community takes on a much larger dimension. Grand Rapids hosts its annual Festival of the Arts each June, but this fall a new event arrived. Art Prize attracted creative people working in endless mediums, displayed in all sorts of venues. Visitors had two weeks to view their efforts and vote on their favorites. The unique thing about this contest is that the winners were selected not by a select group of experts, but by the regular people who came. Young people, elderly, entire families – everyone had an equal vote.

My daughters took me to view the sights last weekend. One daughter took the time to plan our route. I had only two requests – I wanted to see the large table and chairs, and Nessie. Other than that, I was content to walk wherever they led me. My wishes were granted, and I have pictures of both for my scrapbook. But I was treated to so much more.

This celebration was unique. The focus was art in all sizes, mediums, and forms. That in itself isn't unique. But I think the accessibility of the art for everyone who wanted to come was wonderful. I’ve had the pleasure of seeing some of the world’s most famous works of art. And I guess the experts knew what they were talking about when they decided what was special, and what was not. So those precious pieces are locked away, guarded against people who want to steal them for their own pleasure. And we commoners must pay handsomely for the privilege of peering at them for a few moments.

That’s what made Art Prize so special. The art was out there for all to see, and since we decided not to spend $15 for the shuttle bus, my only cost was a tube of Ben Gay for my tired legs and feet. But the rewards were priceless. I spent a wonderful Sunday afternoon with my kids, walking through a great city filled with the creative efforts of many talented people. I really think we saw Grand Rapids at its best.

There wasn’t much time for my own creativity this week, so here are pictures of my two favorites from Art Prize:

Dad's World

My dad collected matchbooks. He didn’t buy them or trade them with other collectors. But he’d pick them up at restaurants, hotels, and businesses that offered them as promotional items. So each item in the collection has a direct connection to a trip he took or event he attended. After dad died, mom went on a cleaning binge and was ready to throw the entire collection out. The matchbooks were all stuffed haphazardly into several ziplock bags, and she didn’t know what to do with them.

I offered to take them home. I’m as much of a packrat as my parents – what was one more bag?Besides, I just didn’t feel right tossing something that apparently meant something to him. I’m not sure what he had planned to do with them, but I promised myself I’d do something. Maybe I’d tackle a project I saw on HGTV where they took the matchbooks apart, laid them flat on a board, and then covered them with a coat of varnish. Or maybe I’d keep them intact and display them in a shadowbox.

Yesterday I had one of those rare days when I didn’t have any appointments or commitments. I took the bag of matchbooks out and started to sort them. It’s been four months since dad left us, but I still felt him at my shoulder as I handled them. I wanted to turn around and ask him about some of the interesting ones. About half the collection was from their trip to Japan – beautifully designed pieces of art with elegant characters I can’t decipher. Another third were from other trips and various casinos he and mom liked to visit. And the rest were from local businesses and attractions. There were four from my stepdaughter’s wedding fourteen years ago.

I separated them, took out the duplicates, put each category in a separate bag, and put them away again. I’m going to need a bigger shadow box than I thought. But I had a wonderful time connecting with dad again, seeing the world through his eyes. He had a full, productive life that I can only hope to emulate. It’s a big, wonderful world, and his matchbooks were his way of bringing pieces of it home with him.

I know I promised pictures, so here’s one – these are the dishcloths I made during my “Senior Road Trip” from my last post.

Senior Road Trip

Summer Time is for road trips. I suppose when you’re retired, anytime is good for a road trip, but they’re much more enjoyable when you don’t have to worry about getting stuck in a blizzard, or agonizing about how many coats to bring. I’ve gone on trips with my parents, with my husband, and with my kids and grandkids. I haven’t gone on a road trip with women my age and above until last week.

I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I am aging. Having seven children who call me “grandma” tends to do that. Having doctors who weren’t born when I graduated from college does that, too. But they say you’re as young (or old) as you feel, so I prefer to think of myself as “well seasoned.”

Anyway, one of the things separating me from my progeny is what I consider to be fun. I’ve heard terms like “I’ve been to the Promised Land”, “Hog Heaven” and “Like a kid in a candy store” but other than the thrill of actually BEING in a candy store, I haven’t had the euphoric feeling those phrases imply until early this week. There’s nothing more exciting to a crafter than being in a warehouse FULL of supplies, and for me the supply of choice is fabric.

Twice a month, I work with a group making fleece hats, which are donated to various charities. Fleece is fun to work with, but it’s not cheap, and donations don’t come readily. So this week, the group decided to go to a fabric warehouse in Chicago. We piled into Jackie’s van, followed the directions provided by Marcia’s GPS, pooled our gas money, and away we went. Diane and I both brought our knitting, and I managed to finish two dish cloths on the way there. The time always goes faster when your hands are busy!

We arrived at the Troy Corporation without any problems (okay, there was one wrong turn, but the Garmin got us there anyway). We were introduced to a friendly young man named Derrick, whom Diane had contacted previously by phone. He led us through the warehouse to the area where the polar fleece was stored. I left the price negotiations to the experts and wandered through the warehouse.

It’s dangerous for me to go into a regular fabric store. The yards and yards of colorful designs cry out to me, begging me to take them home and put them into a project. My mind nearly exploded with the possibilities this place offered. I imagined outfits, quilts, handbags, curtains, and more. It was enough to make Marcia hyperventilate. I briefly considered getting an extra shopping cart in case we had to wheel her out.

After leaving the warehouse, we ate lunch at a lovely place called the Jolly Inn (great food, wonderful ethnic atmosphere) and then we headed home. There was barely enough room in the full size van for the six of us and all the fabric! I was home in time for supper. My children were appalled that we hadn’t stayed for some entertainment, or shopping in some of the fabulous shops, or knowing my interest in just about anything, gone to a museum. A few years ago I would have agreed – a trip to the Windy City deserves more than a visit to one place and a meal. But I guess I’ll save that stuff for when I’m with them!

I’m finally starting to complete some of the projects I’ve been writing about. Next time I’ll put up some pictures.

The Budding Artist

Abby June is nine years old!

Okay, she’s eight and a half. When you have a birthday so close to Christmas, it sometimes gets lost in the holiday festivities. So this year her parents decided to have a “half-birthday” celebration at their summer retreat. We thought it was a great idea – another reason to have a family gathering in good weather, instead of the unpredictable mess that usually haunts us on her real birthday.

I remember when she arrived in the dead of winter, on the heels of a raging blizzard. It was a nasty winter, and we worried about her mother getting to the hospital safely. But she got there, and Abby came into the world ready to make a statement. Since then, we’ve cheered her on at piano recitals, church programs, softball games and soccer matches. And recently she’s making a name for herself in local races. I’m sure the school track and cross-country coaches in her district are watching her closely!

Art is another talent for this young lady. Abby comes from a long line of creative women. Her mother and her mother’s mother are talented artists, and it seems she has inherited the gene. I’m not a biological grandma, so I can’t take credit for her talent, but I can certainly encourage from the sidelines. One of the first things she asks for when she comes to our house is paper, drawing supplies, scissors, and glue. By the time she leaves, our family room has been transformed into an art gallery. So when the birthday gift request list came out, I was happy to choose the art supplies. Markers that mix colors, markers that write on glass, and – an absolute necessity – a sketch pad.

I’m sure there will be interests and causes that will come and go in Abby’s life. Some will be tried and discarded, others will be embraced with passion. But creativity comes from within, and will always be a central part of her. It’s impossible to predict what venue it will take, but I’m sure it will be wonderful.

So almost nine years after her snowy entrance, Abby is busy making her mark on the world. I plan to see her make many, many more.

Needle in a Haystack

A friend of mine recently became a grandmother for the first time. It’s definitely a major milestone for her and she is ecstatic. I decided to mark the occasion by making a simple cross-stitch project that I found on the internet. It’s a sign to be hung on a doorknob with a design that says: “Shhh … (insert name) is sleeping.” No specific colors are given, so I figured I’d do it in various shades of pink, in honor of the new granddaughter.

It’s been a while since I’ve done any cross-stitching. I found the fabric and embroidery floss easily enough, but for some reason I couldn’t find a needle. There are dozens of needles in this house, every size and type needed for my sewing machine and serger, curved and straight, metal and plastic, pointed and blunt – but no cross-stitch needle. I dug through every drawer and under almost every piece of furniture. No needle. If I were a logical person, I would have run to a craft store and bought one, but a) I was short on cash, b) I was really busy, and c) why would I spend money on something I know I already have? So I put the project on hold and went to work on something else. After all, the baby will be taking naps for a while – unlike my own children, who grew up overnight.

So I gave up looking for the needle, and I started packing for a weekend trip. I unearthed a suitcase I had used for a trip in April. When I opened it up, I found an old cross-stitch project – with two needles in it! Fortunately, my friend’s granddaughter is still a baby – and I still have the fabric and floss. Wish all my “lost” objects could be found so quickly!

It seems the things I can’t find always turn up when I stop looking for them. Is it a conspiracy? Perhaps. Maybe all the items in my house like to take turns driving me crazy by hiding when they know they’re wanted, and then appearing when I’m no longer looking. I’m sure my husband wouldn’t appreciate being compared to a “lost item”, but he did turn up when I stopped worrying about finding my soul mate. I wonder if the strategy works for finding things like my youthful figure, and oh yeah - my memory?

Peeking Out From Under the Mountain of Chaos

Yesterday I turned another year older. The jury is out as to whether I'm any wiser, but my list of "things to do before I die" is not any shorter. I guess I'm luckier than most: I've found my life partner, we have beautiful, intelligent children, and we're not in danger of losing our home. Most of the things I want to finish are located in three places - my basement, my bedroom, and my computer. I'm a creativity junkie, and I spend my time going from project to project. Around my sewing machine and serger are piles of fabric. In my basement are file drawers full of patterns, cabinets of paints and brushes, and hidden in my computer files are several stories in various stages of completion. And then there are the instruments (oboe, flute, clarinet, saxophone, trombone, and piano) and the mountains of music for each.

I know that I should complete one project before going on to another. I know that my messy house is the result of tackling too many projects at once. I know I spend way too much time on the internet, reading books, watching television, etc. instead of completing my projects. But it's like rich, chocolatey dessert - I KNOW I shouldn't eat them, but that doesn't mean I listen to myself.

So - why the blog? I've been observing other blogs. Some are informational, some are inspirational and motivating, and others are just cathartic. Maybe this is a bit of the last, but I think maybe this is about accountability. A writing friend recently blogged about the similarity between dieting and writing. And one of the things I learned from my thirty years in Weight Watchers is that writing down what you consume helps you stay on track. Also, letting other people know what you are doing means that when you stray, it's not a secret.

I don't think I'll ever have the type of home worthy of a spread in a women's magazine (unless it's an advertisement for an episode of "Mission: Organization") but I'd like to decrease the size of the piles of unfinished projects. So - here are two mini-goals for this week:

1. Write a minimum of 200 words each day (I think this post satisfies that for today)

2. Work at least one hour on another, non-writing project

Hopefully by next Friday, I'll have some progress to report! And maybe some of you will have some words of advice. How do you organize your "creative urges"?