Family

A little dabble in wax…

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Over the weekend I took an encaustic art class. It was my first time playing with wax, a heat gun, and my desire to deep dive into this art medium. I have been interested for years, follow a few local artists, and finally took the plunge to dabble in something that has inspired me for quite some time. I learned a lot, have even more of a desire to purchase my own supplies and whittle away the hours in my own little creative world.

You may remember a post from almost a year ago on the encaustic piece that Chris and I purchased at the Lake Oswego Festival of the Arts. It is the second piece we have hanging from local encaustic artist Karl Kaiser. I love the modern look of his work, the clean, smooth look of the wax resin, and I have to say after spending 2.5 hours playing with this art medium, what he does takes incredible patience. Here are the two pieces I semi completed during the class. You should feel honored and lucky that I am sharing my unfinished artwork.

As soon as I have a spare moment (life has been busy what can I say), I am going to do some research to find out what it will cost me to purchase a heat gun, pancake griddle, metal warming pots, resin, wax, medium, encaustic paint, boards, etc. While it sounds like a lot, I think I can do it fairly inexpensively to start with to ensure that it really is something I want to do long-term. As I write this I have visions for different paintings I would like to try, and I can see it begin to become a bit of an addiction. I can only imagine that there are things to do at home, the house is interestingly quiet, and Chris tracks me down knowing that he’ll find me in the studio (aka baby room, aka dog room, if only we could decide), wasting a Saturday away playing with wax. Is that really so bad? There have to be worse addictions. There was something soothing about manipulating the wax and in some ways having no control over it.

I asked the instructor if I could play with hardware washers. I ended up only having the time to put one into my piece, but I can see where I would like to explore metal and wax, sort of a juxtaposition on organic and industrial in one piece. I think I am already addicted.

Chris are you ready for our shopping trip to the art, hardware stores and oh your favorite: Michaels?

“i carry your heart with me”

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Over the weekend I got sucked into the movie “In Her Shoes” with Toni Collette, Cameron Diaz, and Shirley MacLaine. It has been years since I have seen it, but for some reason I was enraptured as though it was the first time I watched it. The sister story line, the death of their mom, and then the interwoven story with a long-lost grandmother, and a clueless dad, kept me engaged even though I had a list of things I wanted to do. I had forgotten the ending too. Cameron Diaz reads an e.e. cummings poem: “i carry your heart with me” to her sister during her wedding. It brought tears to my eyes.

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)

i fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

It makes me think of Chris. For those of you who know me, or have been reading this blog for a while, you know that I am addicted to my husband. This precious poem makes me think of him with immense love and gratitude. It also makes me think of my sister and my 2 month old niece. I am sure my sister will think of little Charlie if she reads this blog. It also makes me think of my mom, my dad, and my grandma, so it serves those we have lost. Such a timeless, versatile, and expansive poem. Of course, it also makes me want to write in all lower case.

In case you want to remind yourself, here is the excerpt of Cameron Diaz reading this poem to her sister:

 

Voracious desire to learn…

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What I remember most about my mom was that she loved children and that she was a teacher. From before I even went to school, there were kids and babies underfoot in our house. When I was really little until about second grade, my mom ran a day care in our house. I had a love/hate relationship with her job. I loved the constant and instant access to playdates and friends. I can still remember the names of the children and some of our many adventures on our back porch, quasi above ground pool, outside riding bikes, etc. Even the time when one of the boys proposed to me and gave me a ring, (yes I guess courting starts young doesn’t it?) What I hated – was that I had to share my toys, my bedroom (babies sleeping), and my mom when I came home from school at the end of the day.

A few years later she moved to her main love, teaching elementary school. Again, I had a love/hate relationship. When I was in second grade, she was the secondary teacher in the “other” second grade classroom. For anyone who knows what it was like to have your mom teach in your school, or be highly involved in your school, there were times when you loved that they were nearby, and other times when you were going through growing pains, teased, or gaining your own independence, that you wished you were dropped off at school only to see them at the end of the day.

Either way, we do not get to pick what our parents do for a living or how they are present (or not) in our life. We do eventually have the opportunity to look in hindsight and see what we learn, or how these experiences evolve us into the people we are today. I am grateful to have had those years with my mom, watching her extreme patience (I wish I was granted with such patience). She valued education and learning and even now thinking about it, she got her masters in teaching in her forties, not an easy feat with three growing kids and a job. Maybe that is why I have such a voracious desire to constantly learn new things.

I am not a teacher. I absolutely love children, but I do not think I would have the patience to spend my day in a classroom and then come home sane to my family. I admire, commend, and appreciate each and every individual that teaches in a classroom. You shape the world for so many little (and not so little) beings each and every day. Thank you, mom, for teaching me to solve problems, crave ideas, and to continuously try new things. Miss you.

Be the glass half-full to someone’s glass half-empty

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Sometimes you find the best damn quote and you just have to share it with others. Yes, this one could have a slightly negative connotation, depending on how you interpret the quote. 

I like to think of it as a reminder to live my best life. Maybe it does drive people batty to see that someone is so happy. I have definitely had my days when I wish someone would stop being such a Pollyanna. You know those days when you just want to bitch and moan about whatever happened to you that day? How you are a poor soul for what you had to experience? What if that was not your modus operandi? What if you played devil’s advocate to someone’s negative banter? Be the glass half-full to someone’s glass half-empty. Sure, we all need time to vent about our day, but have you become a broken record?

I can tell you right now that this blog is just as much for me as it is for you. It inspires me to think about going down the road to happiness and knowing that genuinely being happy (or having “a good fucking life”) benefits us all. Happiness, like a smile, is contagious. My hope is that if we think of being happy as revenge, that others will follow suit. Why not, right?

I hope you all bring on revenge of happiness. I want to be inspired by looking into your “good fucking life.” I want it to encourage me to see what is possible. “I can have that,” or “I want that.” Just as you may watch another individual’s relationship and think, “happiness is possible” or if they love their job, “I want to love my job.” Look around you today and see why your peer, sibling, or partner is happy and how it can encourage you to seek revenge. Get happy and drive others crazy today.

Hug your security blanket…

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I saw a photo yesterday that was of a little girl hugging the crap out of her teddy bear. It brought a smile to my face. It made me think about the things in our life that make us feel secure. When you are little it might be a blanket, or special toy. As you get older those security features might evolve and change, yet maybe they all have the same emotional connection for us. We just want to feel safe. Sometimes that happens with something that constantly reminds us of a specific smell or touch.

I remember a babysitter made me a pillow and blanket for when I was a baby. Somehow many years later (after never using the blanket or pillow) it was the pillow that I slept with each night. No one was to ever get between me and my pillow. It was what allowed me to feel cozy and go to sleep at night. It is funny to me that we often negatively call these items in our lives “security blankets.” For me, it was probably one of the constant things in my life. My sister and I shared a room, and since she was older, she often would stay up later than my bedtime. I would drape this small, thin pillow over my eyes and cover my ears so I could go to sleep at night, while she finished her homework.

The funny part? I remember my mom telling me later that her way to ween me off the pillow was to put it into the washing machine and hope that it would not make it through the wash. She was right. I was devastated. I later found a new pillow to take its place. The habit stuck with me and later I found a regular thin pillow and continued to sleep this way through boarding high school and college dorm life.

It was not until Chris and I moved in together that I broke the habit. Maybe I had a new security blanket sleeping right next to me. It was also a new concept for me to have a home where I did not have to block out the noise or the light each night. I know I will think differently about my future kid and their desire to have a security blanket. Maybe we need them for a given time or reason, and maybe over time those items of security evolve and change, but they make us feel safe, and allow us to relax and get the rest we need.

Hug your security blanket today, be it human or pillow.