Closet Archeology

There are many closet cliches because closets hold so much of our lives. It’s not about the shirts, hats, pants, dresses and coats, it’s about our life. I think we stuff our closets like we stuff our pantry, to feel full and safe. Storing old boxes of books, toys, photos are a way to preserve the past, but it also keeps us from having to let it go and move on. 

Even when we actually move from one place to the next, it’s feels better to move the unopened boxes and old clothes. Because then, we can bring our past with us into our future. The known moves with us into the unknown. 

Digging into the past. 

I spent the last week digging through my children’s childhood. They are grown up and parents now. Yet inside their childhood bedroom closets were boxes and boxes of dolls, trains, books and games. I’ve asked them many times to come and take a look, to take or toss what they wanted. Somehow, they never seemed to have the time. 

With 2 grandchildren, I decided it was time to dig through it all and pass on my children’s childhood memories to them. And keep some here for the next generation to enjoy. 

What a find. 

I found Barbie and baby dolls. Marble works and legos. A stuffed Pooh bear and a wooden carousel that still play lullaby music. A baby book, boxes of photographs. Band uniforms and ball gowns. Legos by the millions and a beloved Brio train set. 

I also found my own Barbie doll and her case with clothes that dated back to my childhood. A Chatty Cathy doll who no longer talks and had one eye missing. And yes, that ever popular Cabbage Patch doll. 

Memory museum. 

I don’t want my house to become a museum to the past. I don’t want to burden my children with things they don’t want. So some of the things got tossed and some were donated. 

But some of the closet artifacts moved back in with my now grown up children. They sent me pictures of them reading cherished books to their children. Sharing memories with their significant others as well as with each other. 

I smiled through happy tears. Seeing my grandchildren joyfully playing with their parent’s toys. Hearing my children cherish the wonders of their own personal museum finds in their long forgotten books, toys, party photos, notes and music. 

And while we avoid cleaning our closets because we don’t want to dig up our past, maybe the lesson of closet archeology is revealing the joy buried under the dust. 

Forward into the Past

This week in the studio, I stepped forward into the past. Long before I had my own children, I took care of and taught little children in a local pre-school/daycare. 

I loved setting up the tables every morning with colorful toys, play dough and paints. Making wall art from their art. Setting up learning stations, reading corners, dress up and home areas. One day, I set up a long piece of butcher paper on the school patio with trays of paints and empty thread spools, small balls and sponges for the children to roll, toss, drop and splat with abandon. The mess was all easily sprayed away with the hose. The giggles were priceless. 

Teacher to mother to artist. 

When my own were born, I gave up my job as a creative in advertising to be a creative mom. And had the joy of setting up toys and paints and craypas for my own little children. I volunteered in their classrooms and taught art literacy. 

As their lives moved on, I moved onward too. I took classes and worked in watercolor, pastels, oils, copper and finally came back to clay which I did in high school. 

Around it goes again. 

I am so fortunate to be here for my grown children and their children. I love my Mondays with Meyer and now Cieran gets to come and play, too. I have a trunk of toys, a tiny kitchen, books, a dress up area and, of course, a storage cube filled with kid-friendly art supplies. 

Last week, we honored Eric Carle’s book, “The Very Hungry Caterpillar” again. This time, we made individual ornaments using Cieran’s toes for the caterpillar and a beautiful butterfly out of clay. These will all be fired and painted and ready in time for his one year birthday. 

Remembering the joy. 

This is what I so easily forget: the sheer joy of creating. The soft, squishiness of fresh clay. Colors flowing and mixing. Finding a new line. Adding a dot. Pressing a stamp, a piece of lace or hardware to make a new texture. 

Pressing the words into the wings of the new butterfly is a different kind of writing. It’s still a way to hear my soul speak. And especially now, to pass on those messages to my children and my children’s children. And to you, too. 

And hopefully, as we move forward from this time maybe the joys of the past can come with us in a new way.

Meet my Partner in Parenting.

It's Father's Day. The day when we honor our fathers. And while I had a good father whom I loved - my children have had a great one. 

I'm so lucky to have such a wonderful parenting partner. 

And really, that's what having children is all about: two people choosing to love, nurture, support and bring a baby into the world to become an independent adult. Of course, before there is adulthood, there are diapers, feedings, burping, and crying. Lots and lots of crying. And very little sleep. 

As a mom, I carried and gave birth to our two babies. But after that, my husband, Michael, did as much as I did. He burped and held and rocked and diapered. He washed and folded laundry and cooked. He read books, danced to Sesame Street, played with Legos and dolls. He dried eyes, wiped mouths and cuddled. He drove to soccer practices, teacher meetings, music performances, college graduations and weddings.  

When he made dinner, I cleaned up. When I did bath duty, he got them into pj's to read a book. When the house needed cleaning, he did the floors and I did the counters. When they were sick, he got the mop while I changed their clothes. When they moved out, I helped them pack and he moved the boxes.  

Many, many times, my partner in parenting saved the day. And night. And everything in between. 

And, frankly, we both wouldn't have it any other way. Because coming from families that weren't always able to be there for us, we knew we wanted more. We both see that parenting is a lifelong commitment of the heart. From that baby's first breath, you are linked to each other for life. Parenting is not for the frivolous or faint at heart. Parenting requires strength, dedication and endurance because it's a marathon with, hopefully, no finish line. 

Our children are grown now and we are still parenting. And that's more than fine with both of us. 

I honor my husband today on Father's Day because Michael isn't just a great father. He's a great partner. And I appreciate him and all he does not just today, but everyday. Because he deserves it. 

People Are Not For Hurting.

This was and still is my parental mantra. From the time my babies were born, through toddlerhood, childhood, adolescence to adulthood, hitting or hurting with words or hands was not allowed. Ever. I am still passionate about fostering non-violent, peace-loving, resolution oriented living all around me.  

Why? Because I learned first hand about violence and abuse.

I was raised in a climate where bullying was standard behavior. Bullies ruled. Bullies survived. And if you wanted to survive, you were taught to beat up the bully. And so, to become a bully yourself. Yes, I was taught that fighting the bully was the right thing to do.  

Maybe it still is.

I did fight, as my children grew up, to keep them safe. On the school bus. On the playground.  I advocated for a strict no bullying policy. I insisted on a non-violent atmosphere.  I refused to let my children be exposed to violent tv shows, video games, or movies and I monitored their internet use as well. I was the one mom who didn't let my son dress up as a violent cartoon character for Halloween, have a 'toy' gun or play 'war'. I did stand up to the pressure from other parents and society to give in to the pervasive culture of violence.  

Violence is not a game.

It's saddens me to says this, but our society, our culture, our children are surrounded by it each and every day. When I grew up it was war and guns and fist fights on the playground. But now it has mutated and multiplied to invade everyday life.  TV anchors spout expletives. Drivers rage on the way to work. Airline passengers threaten other passengers and flight crews over their political beliefs. And it's not enough to be a bully in person, it's expanded to social media. Kids get bullied on Facebook all the time.  

And soon, there will be a cyber bully in the White House.

Tweeting threats, name calling, posting lies.  

Bragging about abusing women.  

This is classic bully behavior.  

A 'bully' is just another name for a violent, aggressive person who uses intimidation both physical and verbal towards other people. People are afraid of bullies. And bullies use that fear to push other people around, get what they want at all costs. They don't care about anyone or anything but themselves. 

And people, THIS IS OUR PRESIDENT?

No wonder there's more violence in cities and on our streets. People are very afraid and for a very good reason. He bullied his way through his campaign, firing and threatening his staff. He bullied his way through the debates, harassing a female candidate. He bullied the media when facts were reported against his wishes. He bullied people protesting against his election threatening to put them in jail. He is a bully. Plain and simple. But soon, he could become a very dangerous bully. All our lives, our children, our grandchildren are at stake here.  We have everything to lose and he has everything to gain. He is not here to help you. He is here to take as much as he can for himself. As Americans, we have a right and an obligation to stand up against corruption and violence.  

Don't let yourself be bullied.  Stand up.  Now.

People. Are. Not. For. Hurting.

We have to stop. Now. We have to look each other in the eye and see our reflection. See our fears and our dreams and our hopes in each other. Look for the truth, the real truth and value it above all else. See our wishes for freedom and safety and comfort and love.

It's so easy to get sidetracked by fear into greed and violence.

Especially by the bully soon to be President of the United States.

But we the people. You. And Me. We all want the right to pursue happiness. And we can all do it. One by one. Side by side. Working together. United. Standing up for the rights for all.

Next time you see or hear bullying in any shape or form,

Remember the mantra:  People are not for hurting.

 

Back in the Studio Again.

For the past several months, my studio time has taken a backseat to life.  Not that I've been living in the fast lane, but it seems like this summer has flown by and my studio routine has flown out the window right along with it.  I'm not upset about it in the least.  I'm glad. 

Life(and art) is what happens when you're making other plans.

Or, in my case, doing other things.  I've spent the last 5 months taking trips out of town for joyous events in my 'children's' lives.  I've spent many days watching my daughter perform, graduate with a master's and last but not least, be her travel partner on her new life road to L.A.  I've also spent many days watching my granddaughter grow from baby to toddler and helped her learn to walk and talk. 

Studio guilt?  Or fear.

In the past, any change in my studio routine or creative process led to a lot of guilt and fear.  My mind would reel with questions and accusations.  How could I call myself an artist if I wasn't making art, constantly?  How could I have pieces to show and sell, if I wasn't in the studio everyday?  What would happen if I stopped making for any length of time?  Would I never go back to my art?  Would I, (oh no) become a 'hobbyist'?

Fear doesn't create art.  Love does.

And love, also creates life and 'a life'.  And I want it all.  Yes I do.  

And what I've found out by taking time off from the studio is this: work gets done.  Really.  Pieces get made, painted, bisqued, glazed and, yes, miracle of miracles, sold.  Even while I'm on a road trip with my daughter to L.A.  

My art waited for me, patiently.  There on the shelves in my studio were pieces ready to be bisqued again.  There were new pieces ready to be under glazed.  There is a load in the kiln right now, waiting for me to unload it and get it ready for final glazing.  Show labels are made and ready for my next show.  And I know, next week, I'll be back in my studio with my hands in fresh clay again.  

Surprisingly, I'm not feeling either guilt or fear. My life is and always has been about making whether it's making an ad, a family or a new piece of art.  It's not the thing that matters, it's the heart.  And, I truly believe, there is no art(or life) without it. 

Life's an Empty Nest Cyle.

A robin built a beautiful nest on the right side of my patio about two months ago.  I was so excited!  I was going to watch the nest fill with eggs, baby birds hatch and learn to fly from my patio.  I could see it rain or shine from inside or out.

But it didn't work out that way: empty nest.

Mom robin flew in and out of the nest for a day or two, but never seemed to settle.  Finally after a few days, momma quit showing up at all. I waited and waited.  I watched everyday.  But she never came back.  I worried my dog scared her away or a predator killed her.  I gave up waiting for her to come back to the now, empty nest.

Surprise: Another nest!

One morning, my granddaughter looked up to the patio cover and giggled.  I looked amazed, too.  Because there under the opposite corner of my patio cover was a new robin's nest!  And inside sat a happy mama robin.  When the eggs hatched, she and dad began feeding two little chicks until they disappeared one morning from the nest.

Empty nest, again.

I googled 'robins' and asked on Facebook.  Here's what I found out: Robins build nests and leave them until they're ready to lay eggs. But if something disturbs the robins before the eggs are laid, they will build another nest.  Then mama comes back, lays the eggs and sits on the nest only leaving to eat for 14 days.  When the eggs hatch, mama and daddy robin take turns feeding the chicks again for about two weeks.  Then the baby birds 'fledge' and leave the nest.  Mom and Dad still keep feeding and protecting the chicks until they can fly, again about 2 weeks.  

What's that outside my utility window?  Another nest.

My son-in-law discovered it this week while helping to mow the lawn.  I thought the robins were gone for the season, but again, I was wrong.  Robins have 2-3 broods in each breeding season from April to July.  Once one brood has learned to fly, they start a new nest.  

Nesting isn't just for robins.  I can see my life in their cycle too.  

There's the obvious cycle in parenting.  I had a full nest with two children.  I fed, nurtured and watched them grow up from babies to fly off into lives of their own.  And, then, my nest was empty.  Or so I thought.  Then my daughter and son moved home filling the nest and moving out again, emptying it.  My granddaughter spends days with me and my daughter and her husband came to stay for a month, filling and emptying the nest once again.  

Creating follows the same empty nest cycle too.

We all nest and sit and create and our creations move out into the world and we begin again.  

I have an idea that incubates.  It hatches into a painting, mask, cup, vase or bowl.  I feed it with the energy and spirit that comes from my hands and brush and heart.  Then, it makes its way out into the world through a show or studio sale and the cycle begins again.  So, even as I sit in the quiet of my empty nest that was filled just yesterday with my children, cats, dogs and babies, I know a new brood of ideas will be hatching soon.

Who knew Mama Robin and I had so much in common? Curious, isn't it?