Writing, Reading, Reflection

Yes, it’s been forever since I posted!  No rhythm found yet in my day-to-day, unfortunately. I’m trying.  Between working late, meetings, and well, yes, falling madly in love, I’ve had little time.

So it’s out there. Eric will likely read this, and anyone who knows me well, knows that this is a huge thing for me to admit. But, I’ve found a wonderful, wonderful man, and so after work (which sometimes takes Eric actually arriving at school to make me leave!), I spend time with him and his kids.

Then, this last weekend, I was sick. Sunday I was in bed most of the day. I did get up long enough to crochet. When Eric called to check on me, he asked nonchalantly, “So what are you doing?” I answered with, “Crocheting a scarf.” Yes, I continue to surprise him with everything I do!  I just told him a few days ago I was a published writer. This, of course, is the whole process of falling in love, right? Finding out the things we do and every day will likely to surprise him.

I got this wonderful painting in the mail today from the Funky Art Queen–my prize for creating an image of myself for her contest. It’s beautiful!  I also got a large packet of old photos for my genealogy project, and I got a Civil War Pension Packet last week, so I have all these things piling up on my dining room table. I will get to it all, I promise.  It’s just that wonderful feeling I get when I’m with Eric is really hard to pass up for the other stuff.

No worries, I’ll get a rhythm going. It’ll happen. Of course, cheer leading will be starting soon, and that will throw a wrench in that, I suppose!!

All is well. I’m happy. I’m loving my life and dreaming of art projects. Soon, my friends, an art project will emerge I promise!  Plus, my sister in law, who is a photographer, is giving me her “old” digital SLR camera, so I’m glad I didn’t buy one. The one she’s giving me is much, much better, with lenses and the whole shebang.  She got a very expensive replacement, so she’s taking very good care of me by giving me her “old” camera (notice I say “old” very loosely)

Keep on me everyone. I’ve not forgotten the blog. Promise.

Anyone who does art projects knows it can get rather expensive. I’ve gotten really good at clipping the 40 and 50 percent coupons for Michael’s and Hobby Lobby and only buy those large ticket items when I have the coupons. Of course, the little things add up over time, even so. That being said, I hit the mother load at Hobby Lobby the other day. They put scraps, ends of bolts, etc. in little baggies and sell them cheap, cheap, cheap! I found a bag of trim for five dollars. One of them alone would have been $5. I cannot believe how lucky I got. They  are the colors I love, too. Greens, salmons.  I’ll have to go back in the next few days and see what else they have. Here are a couple of photos of what was in the bag…yes, it was all stuffed inside, no so elegantly, but goodness, I have so much to use!

As I said, I wanted to be able to create something this weekend in my new art space. Today, I created a wall hanging that I absolutely love.  I took a cotton doily I got at Michael’s, soaked it in coffee to give it an aged look and sewed the image of my great-great-great grandmother, Permelia Prather on it. The photo is on transfer fabric. Then I added some old buttons I got at an antique store, added a leather circle, to symbolize the circle of life, and attached it with an pink organza ribbon I also died to give it an aged look. I added a heavy rick rack and connected the two with a large antique button.  I wanted to create something with a lot of texture, that captured an aged look that I could hang on the wall of my art room. Here is the final piece:

Here is a closer look at the smaller button and the texture:

Yesterday, I started a larger project. I got the idea from Somersett Home. I’m creating a wall hanging of my grandma’s homes. Ultimately, there will be four images of her homes attached to the tapestry I found. I’ll decorate with some great trim, buttons, maybe some old keys and attach to a dowel that will allow them all to be connected and hang like little houses on the wall. These are works in progress, but I’ll post anyhow. The photo on the left is the house Grandma lived in in Long Lane, MO. The one on the right is when my grandma visited the house a few years ago just before it was torn down. I love the fact that she got to see it one last time. Obviously, time took its toll on the house!

Have you ever met yourself coming and going?  The last two weeks have been this way for me. I have so many irons in the fire, and I’m trying desperately to keep my head above water while keeping a smile on my face. My personality is such that I don’t allow my stress to show, which makes this a huge thing for me to even say here “in public”.

My art room is finished, but I’ve only been out there once to make something. This will change on Saturday. I’m purposefully staying late at work to get all my grading and planning done there so I won’t be dragging anything home this weekend. I don’t want to be that teacher, any more, who hauls home bags of work every weekend and finds herself complaining, hating her job, hating the kids.  My solution: stay at work until it’s done. Simple as that. Of course, that means a work day of 7-5 several days a week, and today that reached 5:30.  It’s worth it, though, in the long run. This way I’ll be able to spend quality time doing stuff I really want to do–reading, writing, making some art piece, watching movies, hanging out with friends or my boyfriend.

So, enough complaining and contemplating work.  Here is the first thing I created in my art room. It’s an altered mirror from the late 1800’s.  I combined the poem “In An Artist’s Studio” written by Christina Rossetti, a copy of a painting by Rossetti’s brother, Dante Gabriel Rossetti, and his “object” in the painting Elizabeth Liddel. The four things–mirror, poem, painting, object–create a wonderful juxtaposition of how we view things, especially women. If you’ve ever looked into the mirror images in literature, it’s fascinating. There is something so compelling about how women get “trapped in the  mirror”. Even today, I made the comment to Eric that today was a big day when he saw me without makeup.  Why do we worry so much about what we look like? Sure, to be healthy and in shape is one thing, but to be consumed with how we look in the eyes of others is  curious. Since  the beginning of time, there have been stories about looks. Just think about Narcisus.

So the mirror is a wonderful piece that encapsulates all of these things. As a piece of art it’s mediocre, but as a compilation of the four things it makes for great conversation!

I’ve neglected my blog the last 10 days. With school starting, the holiday weekend and my son coming home for a few days, I’ve simply been swamped. That being said, I did get my art room finished and I’ve actually gotten to use it a few times. The following pictures show you just a tiny glimpse of the room.

This week began with teacher meetings, as usual. Tomorrow school starts. I’m already tired! We had our open house Monday night, and a lot of kids showed up with their parents, which is always wonderful. I love meeting the parents just as much as the kids. They are, after all, the ones who will support me when I need them to help their child with assignments, behavior, etc. I love my students’ parents. It takes all of us to get the kids through a demanding year.

Needless to say, I’ll likely not make a post until this weekend. I’ll be exhuasted by the end of every day. Plus, my son is coming home from college for Labor Day weekend!

Today, I opened my Somerset Home magazine, and opened to the Welcome Home section, which quotes Oprah, “I think that when we invite people to your home, you invite them to yourself.”

This is a fitting quote on so many levels. I think of my girl friends who’ve had tumultous lives and they remember the houses they lived in during each significant period of their lives. I talked to Stacey last night about a conversation she had with one of her friends about her reason for moving to her last house. I think of her story about her family slides and how no one can know what order to put them in but her family because of the significance of the houses they were living in at the time. I think of Vanessa and her house with the blue door, and Tina’s memories of sleepwalking at a certain house, and I think of all the houses I’ve lived in–14 in total.

As I prepare for students to come to my classroom, I think of the autobiographies I’ll have them write, and the one activity I always ask them to do: create a life map using all the houses you’ve lived in to tell your story.

Each house was significant for us. Each door, window, creak in the floor reminds us of a moment in our lives that we cannot forget–good or bad. As I looked through the Somerset Home issue, I noticed an artist who created tapestries to look like houses and decorated them to reflect the homes.

Today, your challenge is to write about those homes you lived in. Yes, good or bad, you must create your autobiography. Celebrating my grandma’s 80th yesterday caused me to stop and think about the stories she’s told of her houses. If you have photos of the houses you’ve lived in, find them. Create a collage. If you don’t have photos, draw them, color them with your memories, no matter how poor an artist you are.

In the coming months, Tina will be doing art with the doors she photographed in Italy. I can’t wait to see them, but the doors to her own houses are her real story.

Here is a prompt to get you started, “As I opened the door….” Tell me what you see. Think about the homes you’ve created for your children. What do they say about your today? What will your children say when it’s time for them to do the same autobiography?

Tonight we celebrated my grandma’s 80th birthday. Above is a photo of her on her grandma’s porch near what was called Billy Goat Hill in the North End of St. Joe. When she was five, her family moved to Long Lane Missouri, which is actually as it sounds… a long lane out in the middle of no where. At 16 she got married and by the time she was 20, she had three kids. By 22, she was pregnant with her fourth. She tells the story that they had no electricity or running water, and had to walk to get pails of water to do her laundry, cooking, etc. I can’t imagine what it must have been like. She’d walk to the well, holding my aunt Mary’s five year old hand, pull a red wagon with my aunt Dorothy and my mom in it and have a bucket in the other hand. Imagine doing this several times a day, pregnant with three small kids in tow!

I’ve been writing my family history, and my grandma has been invaluable in helping me. In addition to the family history, I’ve been writing how the actual research of my family has changed my life. In honor of Grandma’s birthday, I’m posting a small section of that story here:

” I began to interview my grandma and ask her about her childhood. She told me wonderful stories that are as much or more meaningful than the dates and names. For example, she told me about the time her younger brother, Leroy, who is known to most of us as “Sonny”, was bitten by a copperhead. Grandma and Sonny had to walk several miles to school each day. They usually carried their shoes since they were expensive items, and in order to preserve them as long as possible, they carried them while walking and put them on once they got to school. As they were walking through the woods, Sonny suddenly said, “Oww, something stung me.” Grandma looked down and a copperhead was ready to strike his bare foot again. Grandma grabbed him out of the way of the second strike. Knowing that copperhead venom could easily kill him, she picked him up and tried to carry him to help. He was heavy, though, and she couldn’t carry him far. He had to walk, leaning in to her as she tried to support him, keeping him as calm as possible. They left the wooded area and got to the road. There, several men working a county road crew were standing. One of the men knew exactly what to do. He used his pocketknife to cut open the bite and began to suck the poison from Sonny’s wound. Since they had a work truck at their disposal, they asked who their parents were and Grandma told them. They took Sonny to the hospital where my great-grandpa Chapman met them. Grandma went on to school. As she was telling me this I couldn’t imagine the fear she must have felt. Not only had a copperhead bitten her little brother, but also she watched as two strange men drove off with him. How she functioned at school the rest of the day is beyond me, but it speaks to her strength and her love of school. Their lives in Dallas County in Southern Missouri was much different than my life is right now. Indeed, this probably explains my grandma’s deep hate of snakes, too. She told me that later they heard the man who had helped Sonny got very sick. He had rotten teeth, which allowed for the venom he sucked from Sonny’s wound to go directly to his own blood stream. In that brief moment the man took his own life into his hands, but he didn’t think twice as he sliced open Sonny’s foot and began to extract the venom.
It was during one of these conversations that my grandma mentioned one of her best friends, Ila Junkins. Grandma had shown me a photo of their one-room schoolhouse at Cedar Ridge School. She said, “I sure would like to know where Ila is. It’s been 40 years at least since I saw her.” It was November 2004, and I immediately thought that finding Ila would be a great Christmas gift for Grandma. Indeed, I knew with the great fortune I’d had at finding information for my genealogy, that this would be one of those requests that I could answer myself. I went straight home and began to search. In an hour I had the email of a young woman who was researching my Evans line in Dallas County. Knowing that many in the area were related, I sent her an email asking not only for information on my Evans family but if she knew anything about the Junkins family. Of course, she did. Within in a few hours she had responded. Ila, the last she knew, was living in California, but her family had lost touch with her and she didn’t know where in California she lived.
I quickly looked up addresses for Ila in California. My grandma had told me her married name and her husband’s name, and there I found Ila. On November 30, I dropped a letter in the mail and on December 4, Ila sent a response:
“I was thrilled to get your letter. It made my day and often wonder about your grandmother Margaret. We grew up together and had many happy times. I’m sure we could talk for many hours catching up. I remember her birthday is in August, the 29th, I believe. Her mother, your great-grandmother, made the best ever potato salad. Cleo and husband stayed at my folks farm in the summer of 1965 while my folds went to southern California to visit us…”
It’s difficult to capture what happened next. I grabbed the letter and drove immediately to my grandma’s. I told her I had an early Christmas gift and handed her the letter. She looked at it questioningly at first, and then began to cry. She had Ila’s address and phone number. A couple of days later, they spoke on the phone, and Grandma called to tell me they had talked nearly an hour, a long time for my grandma to be on the phone. Since then, they’ve stayed in contact, writing occasionally and talking on the phone. Grandma always makes sure to tell me when she’s talked to Ila; it’s her way of telling me that she deeply appreciated what I did that day. Like the incident with Carla and the bible, I felt what I’d done was the right thing. My grandma had made a wish, wanting to know about Ila all these years after they’d last spoken. Finding her was within my power, and I had no other choice but to make that wish come true. It worked out beautifully, and when I think of the happiness I saw on my grandma’s face that day when I handed her the letter, I have to smile.”

Happy 80th Birthday Grandma!

Last night, I created a great journal for my protege. I’m a mentor for a first year teacher this year. She’s a science teacher, but since the first year is so very important, and I’m a writing teacher, I knew she must have a journal to reflect in. Plus, we can use it as a way to record her first year and discuss what’s happening in her room. Of course, I couldn’t just hand her a composition book, though. I covered it with great paper, with a giant butterfly, in some of my favorite colors–green, orange and yellow, all sepia like.

Now, though, I really want to scan it and show Stacey, my very best friend, what I did. I have a scanner, a lovely one, sitting right here, but I can’t use it. For the last two years, I was an instructional coach for the district and since I had to do so much work at home, I had a laptop, and it worked with the scanner. Now, that I’m back in the classroom, I don’t have the laptop and the scanner won’t work with the iMac I’m using, which is so very sad!  If I achieve national board certification this year, though, I’ll get a nice stipend, and I think I’ll buy a laptop. I so loved the mobility of it. I could sit on the porch and write with it. Now, I feel changed to the desk.

I’m going tomorrow or Saturday, though, to look for a digital camera. I need one of those, too. Stacey wants to see my art room as it progresses, and I need a way to photograph my art projects. I love my “old fashion” camera, but without the scanner to copy my prints, I have to do something!  I’m so far behind in the technology…

After looking through Somerset Home, I remember I have an antique mirror that I can alter. The magazine shows how to alter a mirror and since mirrors are always something I’ve written about, this is what I’m going to do:

I’m taking one of my favorite poems by Christina Rossetti, “In An Artist’s Studio” and combining it with the “Mirror, Mirror on the wall” concept, which I studied in college. There are some great feminist articles about this in No Man’s Land, which is one of my favorite books on literary criticism, and the words found there in tandem with the Rossetti poem will be awesome!  I can’t wait to get started on it!

Here is the poem:

In an Artist’s Studio
Christina Rossetti

One face looks out from all his canvasses,
One selfsame figure sits or walks or leans;
We found her hidden just behind those screens,
That mirror gave back all her loveliness.
A queen in opal or in ruby dress,
A nameless girl in freshest summer greens,
A saint, an angel; — every canvass means
The same one meaning, neither more nor less.
He feeds upon her face by day and night,
And she with true kind eyes looks back on him
Fair as the moon and joyful as the light:
Not wan with waiting, not with sorrow dim;
Not as she is, but was when hope shone bright;
Not as she is, but as she fills his dream.

If you are unfamiliar with the poem, it’s written during the Victorian period about Rossetti’s brother, Dante Gabriel Rossetti’s work. He often used Elizabeth Siddal as his model and created some of my most favorite Pre-Raphaelite paintings with her as the focal point. C. Rossetti was an early feminist writer and was always questioning the role of women. In her poem, she questions the reality of Elizabeth vs. her brother’s vision of her. It’s one of the best poems on objectification of women.

The idea of the mirror and how it reflects who we are, who we want to be for others is a strong one in so many pieces of literature written by both men and women. Thus, it will make a fitting altered piece of art, I think! Plus, the title to the poem, “In An Artist’s Studio” is fitting since I’ll be creating something for my own studio. In addition, so many of the women in my family are reflected in my art work repeatedly, so there is definitely a double meaning to this project. I’m so excited. Can you tell?