Lately I've wondered how different my life might be, if I had taken one of the gifts God gave me, and cultivated it. I'm talking about painting or sewing or something creative. He made me a creative being, and gave me talents that are unique to me. How would things be now, if I had taken one of those talents and made a career out of it? I don't think I could have been a painter, unless I had been trained, because I just have no specific style of my own. It doesn't flow out of me like Bob Ross or a career artist. For me, it's a laborious process, but in the end I'm happy doing it. No real demand for pottery way back when. No extra money to buy a kiln to fire it either. I did paint and sew for profit a while. That was back when the "country" style was in, and folks were wearing the loose fitting jumpsuits, embellished with personalized painting. And painted sweat and tee shirts were all the rage. It was something I really liked doing, but it lost its popularity pretty quick. Sometimes I watch quilting shows and think that trying to piece those intricate designs together would just be nearly impossible.
The last few days, for some reason, I've been wondering what kind of artistic activity I could become involved in now, that would stick with me and be soothing and enjoyable. I've wondered what lessons I could take and where I could take them. Such as watercolor lessons, or ceramics, or pottery, or something to do with textiles. And it's really strange that last night, as SR was flipping through channels, he stopped on the PBS series "Craft in America". They spotlighted several different types of artisans and I was mesmerized. Potters, glass blowers, iron workers, weavers, beaders... it was amazing. Oh, how I longed to be able to do any one of those wonderful things. As I watched those artisans, I told SR that I sure wished I could have found something in me, that could make one thing others would want to buy and own. Something that I would love doing and would light them up when they saw it. And he understood. What a man.
Another strange thing to happen a couple of days ago, is a woman I was talking with in Walmart, told me about her recent trip to a crafts fair in North Carolina. She was talking about how beautiful and unique the new crafts are. We discussed the lack of that in our area, and how the "country crafts" have died a good death and crafts now are more elaborate and classy . Are these three different situations telling me something?
I don't remember how old I was, but my mother once gave me a small, battery operated potter's wheel once. It came with a very small amount of clay and I was thrilled. Unfortunately, it was really small, and really weak and there was no way to create pottery on it. It just didn't have enough power to rotate if you pressed on the clay. She also provided supplies for me from time to time so I could draw, paint plaster statues and embroider.
I had a couple of pairs of jeans that I embroidered roses on, while in high school that I luuuuved. (Once, while wearing them, a friend quoted a Dr. Hook and the Medicine Show song to me. I got a freaky old lady name a Cocaine Kitty who embroiders on my jeans... Funny that.) I learned a little about throwing pottery in high school art class. I still have two "vases" I created.
I learned a little about painting and block printing. I should have at least gone to trade school to learn more about the creative arts, but I chose to get married and start a family. At the time I really didn't feel I was missing anything because raising my kids was the biggest blessing I could have hoped for, and I was able to do a little creative work while I did it.
When I was in the 7th grade, my dad was so interested, that he helped me paint my first picture. (He could draw anything in the world with a pencil) I guess he was trying to help me find a calling, and encouraged me to take it to the art teacher. Her critique was disappointing to say the least. I was untrained, and it was my first effort, and she behaved as a teacher would I suppose. Told me what was wrong with it. Kinda hurt a little. Well, a lot actually. In her art class, with the rest of the students, I made a "woman" by shaping clay around a bottle of some sort. There was an air bubble in her head, and when she was fired, the back of it exploded. Poor lady. You can't tell from the front though.
*Sidebar* I learned more than art in that class. The teens in Pennsylvania were quite a bit ahead of the teens in Arkansas. I heard things discuss by other girls in my class that could be labeled, "Shock and Awe".
It's weird to me, that I can still remember some of the art projects we did then, as well as some we did when I was in high school. Does that equate with the football players being able to remember countless plays, in countless games, well enough to describe them to you in detail? SR is like that. Until just now, I didn't realize how artistic I was while growing up, or how much my parents encouraged that by just supplying me with inexpensive tools and supplies. I will need to mention that to my Mom soon, and thank her. So anyway, I'm in the mood to start a new project. Again.... I just haven't really figured out what yet.