Passages...

My mother passed away on December 17. She had been in and out of the critical care unit for a couple of months. Every return left her weaker and weaker. At the last admittance to CCU, she made the decision not to have extraordinary life support administered. This was the first time she had ever stated that she was just too tired and did not want to go on if she had to be in pain and unable to care for herself. In her condition, bad heart, lungs and kidneys, we knew she would not make it many days.

A little about my mom---She had eight of her own children and mothered many other children at various times of our lives. Other cousins even lived with us for a time. Although my father was in and out of the hospital due to bleeding ulcers and colon cancer all of my life, my mother managed to take care of the family with no public welfare. And the most amazing part is, she went to college from the time she was in her thirties until she graduated with a degree in library science and a masters in secondary education in her late fifties. Most of my admiration and love for her comes not from her being the very best mom there was, but from the fact that she still followed her dreams to realize what she felt was important for her well-being and fulfillment. In the end, it never really hurt any of her children that she spent so much time pursuing her own goals. And maybe it even helped as we could always look up to her and see the sacrifices that one may have to make to achieve a goal. She was the 1989-1990 Kentucky Mother of the Year.

My father passed a few years ago. He was honest, hardworking, fun-loving, witty, quiet and just a plain good man. At his funeral, every single person who spoke of my father spoke of how honest and how good he was. At my mother's funeral, people were still remembering my father in the same manner. My father was loved by all who knew him and he was easily liked---the kind of person that you could be in the same room with for hours and never be annoyed with him due to an annoying habit. He never cared what his children aspired to as long as we did whatever we chose to do as well as possible and we were happy. I always loved collecting tidbits of stuff (what many would call junk) and he always told me that even if I wanted to be a junk dealer I just had to be the very best one I could be.

My mother on the other hand could often get on one's nerves. She was often pushy and demanding. She had very specific goals for her children as well as for herself. We all had to participate in numerous extracurricular activities. It was not a choice. I can't even begin to list all of the clubs and activities that we were members or volunteers. We were expected to make above average grades without ever being told to do our homework. We knew we were to be good citizens, good humans and there were no excuses accepted for bad behaviour. There was no doubt that we were expected to succeed.

Which brings me to the last thing that my mother asked me. I had spent the early morning hours with her in the hospital as we were taking turns to be certain someone was with her in her last hours. She motioned for me to come over and asked me what I was working on now. She has always been used to my fickle/flighty/disjointed art where I work with polymer clay one week, textiles the next, and who knows what the next. She also knew how I started so many different businesses, but would sell them as I could not stick with them a long time. I told her about my current artwork---the ink paintings and the line drawings I am doing with sterling silver wire on polymer clay. She was weak, but said, "Oh, that is so good. It sounds like you are loving it this time. Maybe you can focus on this." I told her that I was loving it. I get whatever craftiness that I have from my mother. I can never remember my mother without a crochet hook, knitting needles or a quilt top on her lap if she was sitting still. Even on her deathbed, she asked for her crochet hook and thread. You would never believe that someone in such terrible health could have such nimble fingers and with no arthritis.

I returned to Raleigh and immediately submitted two of my ink paintings into the Visual Art Exchange's juried show. We had been home only two days when we received a message that mother was going downhill fast and so we prepared to return to see her. After my mother's passing, I came home to the first email in my box that said that my paintings were juried into the show!

Now for reflections on time, life and death. My youngest son died at the age of fourteen due to complications of Crohns. At the time of his death, I felt nothing would ever be the same. Time would never move on. Life would never be the same. I felt that time had stopped.

With the passing of my mother, I felt for the first time that time is passing like lightening. So fast that we have so little time left. I watched as my mother's friends and her brothers and sisters filed past her casket. I could see many of them picturing themselves there instead of her. Time is very short for them even if they live a long life. It puts a sense of urgency on the way one sees life---especially if thinking of living up to my mother's high expectations of accomplishing something in my lifetime! ;) So I had better end this long post and get to the artwork. I know she is counting on me to stick with something!

polymerclay

Even the forest can hear---apologies to everyone!

On Friday, I took an Encaustics class. Two other artist friends, Amy and Jean were also taking the class. I had saved some miscellaneous "stuff/junk" leftover from a garage sale that I thought they could use in their artwork.

I told them that they could go through the boxes and anything that they did not want, then I would take back and deliver to Goodwill or take to the dump.

Jean said, "Oh, don't worry, we will take what we can't use to Goodwill."

I replied, "If you can't use it in your artwork, it is only good for the dump!"

They took it good-naturedly and Jean said that they should put a sign in their studio that says, "We use junk that is too bad for Goodwill." or something like that.

I did not think about what I was really saying, but they caught it. I have awaken two nights thinking about how it is so easy to make a comment and say something that sounds really bad.

Today I told my husband about it and he informed me that I often blurt out this kind of thing without thinking! Of course, I never realized that I do this---much less often! In fact, I always think that even if I say something not exactly how it should be said, that people know I would never mean it the way it sounds. I think what bothered me the most is that I would have expected him to say, "Honey, I'm sure they did not take it the wrong way. Anyone who knows you, would not expect you to intentionally say something that would hurt their feelings." Instead, he says that I should really watch this kind of thing.

The fact that someone can take "stuff/junk" and make it marketable or of use is something that I really admire. In fact, most of the stuff was either something that I saw some potential in or just did not want to put in the landfills.

Jean had just entered a piece into the Visual Art Exchange's mixed media exhibit and she used an old doll head, lampshade ring, old box, parts of a vegetable steamer and many other unusual found items that one would not often find a use for. It was an excellent piece and surely one that most people would never think to make using these objects. Amy had also made a piece with found objects for the VAE exhibit. So in my book, if anyone can make use of "stuff," they surely can. If I can get a photo of Jean's piece, I will post it here and I think you will see what I mean.

Today as I was reading the Anchorage Daily News online, I saw an article that had this quote,
"Grandmother taught me that all our relatives and friends, even the forest, can hear every word that we say. That is why we must always be careful with our words, she said. Always show respect. Remember who you are. Watch your words carefully. Even the forest can hear you.
Even the forest can hear."

So now I will take that quote and think on that and apologize to Jean and Amy. Maybe I have said who knows what to my husband and I better apologize to him, and then to my son---wonder what I have said that he took in a way differently than I intended---I better apologize to everyone I know. I just don't think when I talk about some things and I am positive that I have said plenty that has caused hurt feelings. Apologies to everyone! Just remember that I have good intentions.

Imagine...

I just made a post to my Art for the Heart Blog and realized that it could just as well be posted here. I sent the same letter to Robert Genn, but wanted to post it in case it is not posted there.