My memories of my early childhood are idyllic. We lived on 5 acres where my brother raised 4H pigs and my sister had a beautiful, quirky, golden, palomino, horse. My horse was a stick horse because my father considered one horseperson in a family enough. I loved my imaginary horse and invented many names for him. I also had an imaginary alligator. I don't remember his name, but he went everywhere with me. I would introduce him to people at restaurants and he would stay with me at night. My father used to worry that people would think I was 'touched in the head' when I would introduce my alligator or complain about him nipping on my toes.
Our property was surrounded by farms and woods, Our closest neighbor was separated from us by a small patch of woods. In the spring the buttercups would bloom on the edge of the woods and I would pick them to take to my little secret place. It was a place where a tree had fallen and there were bushes that surrounded this little circular area that became my castle. I would take my dolls and blankets and live in my secret world.
Because I was often the only child around I spent much time inventing my own worlds. From mud pies to snow houses I put together environments that I filled with imagination.
My parents gave me so much room to create and they were my first and foremost influence even in what I do today. I still create art for my Daddy's approval and praise even though he has been gone for 14 years. My father loved my music and my art.
My mother let me move furniture and use blankets to make houses for myself in the living room. She let me draw a stove and range top on my closet and would let me draw, paint, and color all the time. I think she was a frustrated artist herself. When my cousins built beautiful doll houses out of cardboard boxes, old wallpaperbooks, and magazine pages, my mother helped me make one of my own. She made amazing chairs, sofas and tables out of small boxes. She made lamps out of straws and plastic bottle caps. She instilled in me the idea that ordinary throw away things could become magical with a little imagination.
My father had been a builder and he loved to do carpentry. He taught a 4H woodworking group and I joined it. It was unusual for a girl to do woodworking but my dad thought it was a good idea. So I learned to work with tools and that love continues to this day. I watched my Dad figure out how to do many construction projects that he wanted to do and deep inside I began to believe I could make things too.
As I grew up others encouraged my art. My neighbor John, a tall and quiet farmer, would put each new drawing or painting that I brought him in a special spot over his desk. He did this even during my highschool years. I remember going back to his house as an adult and seeing another child's work displayed in the spot I considered mine and after a twinge of jealousy I realized he was encouraging another young artist.
An artist and signmaker in Oregon took me under his wing and taught me how to use oil paints. He encouraged me to find my own voice. I remember his lessons and his studio. It was a workshop that was covered with paint splatters and cubbyholes where fascinating artsy stuff was stored. Not a beautiful place but a fascinating one.
I had two teachers in grade school, neither of them artists, who saw this side of me and pushed me to use it. Out of all my actual art teachers only one stands out as a help and that was my junior high teacher. The rest often wanted me to follow their specific instructions or to make something just the way they wanted it. So I, being introverted and independent, went underground, finishing projects at home or during study periods, only turning in things when I was satisfied and the process was finished.
Another factor in my life which forced expansion of creativity was lack of finances and resources. When you don't have the means to buy what you need you can either quit or you can learn to use what you have. It is a process of seeing what could be instead of what is and it is a skill that can be developed.
Although I did study some art in college most of my formal training has come from a variety of places. Every once in awhile I get beyond my introverted self and learn from another source. Sewing classes from several different professionals, a painting class or two, but the one that really took me out of my comfort zone was studying scenic art (theater backdrops, theatrical painting) at Cobalt Studios in the Catskills near Woodstalk NY. This was an intensive course from a world renowned scenic artist and associates. Her name was Rachel Keebler and she was amazing. This involved leaving my home and living with 12 other people in a big old house for several weeks. I knew noone, so no comfortable relationship for safety. Everyday we would trek down the path to the huge studio with paint room and painting deck and learn to paint backdrops. We painted all day long and into the night. I was intimidated because everyone was either working in professional theater or theater design majors. I often felt lost and stupid. But one day, Mary Heilman, another of the instructors who paints all over the world for Disney, said that they were giving me difficult projects because I was good and they didn't want me to be bored. I was floored because I had felt so ridiculously awful. It was mindboggling.
This past year I again left my comfort zone and drove myself to Louisville, Kentucky where I took class from Krista Vind at Martin Alan Hirsch's school of decorative finishes. Again I knew no one and I really am quite happy to stay at my home. But everyonce in awhile I find this thing in myself that makes me go into unknown territory to learn something new. And that was an amazing experience also. Plus I got to see Churchhill Downs, the home of the Kentucky Derby, since I was horse mad as a child I had read about this place in many books.
Anyway, this is me, a creative person who is just beginning to feel like a real artist and who believes everyone has a creative ability hidden within them no matter how it is manifested.
