Gifts from the Art(ists)

I've really been enjoying the collections various friends have shared on Facebook and Instagram during this pandemic, especially because each item is accompanied by a story. It's like visiting a personalized world library of art, toys, records, books, plants, pets, and more. So I thought I'd share ten things in my home that were either made for me or given to me by artists and crafters who are dear friends.

Ten because I can count that high on my fingers.

And sadly, some items I would've included are still boxed up somewhere deep in the garage, so they couldn't be included here.

In no particular order...

Item 1: 

It seems appropriate to start with a mask made by my friend M., who is a wonderful seamstress who regularly sews pillows and other items to give to care facilities. Her masks are little works of art. In a mask, you might not be able to flash a smile, but you can still flash some style.

Item 2:

These cheerful friends were designed and felted by my friend Eliel, whom I met
in my first year of college. Her menagerie of felted creatures is so vast,
they occupy a kingdom of their own. To describe Eliel, I can only return
the blessing she once bestowed on me, an adaptation from Charlotte's Web:
"It is not often that someone comes along who is a true friend and a good writer. Eliel is both.”
You can see some of her Felties on her website here.

Item 3:

You can never have too many potholders! Well--actually, you CAN have too many useless potholders, but my friend Lauri's potholders last forever. Not only that, but they're made entirely from repurposed materials. That is, socks! Lonely, forsaken socks that have lost a mate or otherwise been consigned to the dustbin of discarded textiles. The socks are carefully selected (for fabric content and of course general lack of grossness), thoroughly cleaned, cut up, and woven on looms into potholders that wear like iron. Check them out on Instagram here.

Item 4:

This little lady was given to me at my wedding shower. She was made by Irene,
sister of my mom's childhood friend, Leona Kaczmarek. She has perched demurely on our dresser for 30 years, stepping out on only one occasion, and that was two years ago when she attended my daughter's wedding and kept watch over the guest book.

Item 5:

This elegant horse was drawn by Alecia Barry Underhill, who illustrated my book
For Horse-Crazy Girls Only. It's a portrait of The Tetrarch, a freakishly fast horse who ran in the early 1900s, silencing the critics who initially laughed at his ungainly polka-dotted appearance. Visit Alecia's website to admire and purchase her beautiful artwork here. 

Item 6:

Once upon a time, I was lucky enough to be in a craft group made up of friends who met monthly in Seattle. The winds of change blew us in all directions, but the stunning scarf made by my friend Ruth remains here in the Northwest, reminding me of the lovely teatimes we shared. Ruth still makes beautiful felted pieces--you can read about them here  and visit her Etsy shop here.

Item 7:

This lovely bread board incorporates several kinds of wood and is oiled with Walrus Oil.
(Nope, not from walruses!) It was crafted by my friend Rick, who's not only a woodworker
but also the husband of my dear friend Elizabeth and the Expert Reviewer for a book I wrote
about the ocean. Check out Rick's work here, where you can also DM him because he likes to
make stuff and says that sometimes "you can acquire it." 

Item 8:

Sparkly! My friend Jayde created a beaded necklace with this unicorn, but I actually
obtained him to hang from my office bulletin board near a window, where he can twinkle in the
sunlight. Twinkling being something that unicorns excel at. Years ago, Jayde and I co-authored
a book about collectible German toys. Now she's busy wrapping wire and electroforming as she makes jewelry, which you can see and buy online here. 

Item 9:

My mom made this wreath for me about 25 years ago, filling it with the autumn colors I love. (She also made white and pink wreaths as decorations for our wedding.) Mom liked painting and using oil pastels, but she really enjoyed putting together flower arrangements and making beautiful Easter baskets and wreaths. I think she would've enjoyed being a florist and creating gift baskets. When she was in high school, she made pins and earrings out of shells and sold them to classmates. (My dad was an engineer and also a skilled craftsman who built wonderful things out of wood, but I don't have anything of his handy to photograph right now.)

Item 10:

My daughter draws wonderfully, and we have bins of her drawings of horses in my office closet, but I've chosen to share a little something she made when she was probably about 7 years old: a button string. We were reading the "Little House on the Prairie" series, and we'd just gotten to a story about Laura and her older sister tying assorted buttons to bits of yarn to make playthings for their baby sister. When my mom fell ill and went into hospital for several weeks, my daughter sorted out buttons in my sewing basket to make a button string for Grandma and one for me, too.

BONUS ITEM:

What is this?
Your guess is as good as ours.
It was made by my daughter when she was about 5.
Basically, it's part of an old sock with a piece of felt and several hair scrunchies sewn to it.
What does it do?
What is it for?
Does it have a hidden meaning?
A purpose?
Look upon it and ask, why!?!
We do.
Even its creator does.
That is, when she can stop laughing long enough to draw a breath and speak.

Bits and Pieces

When you're middle-aged and relatively healthy, "downsizing" feels great. Decluttering! Simplifying! Purging! Streamlining! It's revitalizing, a welcome palate cleanser before tucking into the next entree in the feast of life.

But it can feel quite different when you're helping an elderly person downsize, especially if that person is your parent.

My mother cherished her possessions--the heirlooms and scraps inherited from her parents, the pretty items she'd picked out herself, the gifts she'd received over the course of a long and rewarding life--and watching her struggle with what to keep and what to shed was distressing.

And why wouldn't it be? The enterprise was prompted by loss--my father's death, Mom's declining health, the slow untethering of her mind and spirit by way of dementia. Parting with objects redolent of younger days and good times is rather the opposite of freeing against that background.

Which is why I came to be in possession of several Ziploc bags stuffed with hundreds of circles of fabric in a multitude of colors.

Half a century and a bit ago, Mom had painstakingly cut out all these little circles from leftover fabric and old clothing.

Some bits were recognizable. A purple and blue ditsy floral pattern came from the remnants of fabric used to make a sundress--one that my petite mom wore in her teens, and that fit me for about five minutes in my own adolescence.

Another scrap I recognized as the material Mom used to make yo-yo pillows for my childhood dollhouse.

Every so often in recent years, the circles had resurfaced in the ongoing sorting-out of objects. "Mom, what are your plans for these?" I'd ask.

Mom would ruffle the circles in the bag for a bit and reply, "I don't know. I might use them for something." Back they'd go into a box for another year . (I didn't object...Storing Stuff That Might Be Useful is part of my DNA, too.)

So here they are again, eight months after Mom's death. Still with the needle stuck in the fabric where she'd last poked it when setting the project aside back in the 1950s.

I didn't want to just get rid of them, even though sewing and I do not get along. Oh, I can hem things, and I would really like to be able to sew stuffed animals (though truthfully, I'd rather have completed creating the stuffed animals, without ever having had to do the actual sewing of them).

But sewing, with the stupid thread that ties itself in knots  even though it has no beginning or ending in the loop...and all that measuring...it makes me want to gnash my teeth and rend my garments. (Though I won't, because then I'd have to sew the garments.)

Still, sometimes I need a fairly mindless activity to take my mind off tasks, an activity that doesn't require reading or writing; stitching circles together to make...something...didn't seem like a bad plan.

First, I separated the circles to see if I could find any clues to the plans Mom might've had for them. "Please, please, do not reveal that Mom ever intended to make one of those yo-yo clowns," I thought.

(I wanted to supply a public-domain image of a yo-yo clown here for reference, but could not find one. However, dear reader, bow your head in thanks that I have spared you the frightening task of Googling clown images.)

Then this appeared among the circles:

Fortunately, Mom herself was not enchanted with her foray into clown-making, because she got much further in a project involving stitching yo-yos together to make flowers:

By now I'd planned to finish making yo-yos out of the fabric circles and sewing them together anyway to create a colorful tablecloth. So revising the design to make yo-yo flowers first and then stitching the flowers together was simple enough.

Finishing this project for Mom won't sew up the raveled edges of a life without her, but it's a lovely feeling nonetheless.

The Colorful World of a "Tie-Dyeing Mom Entrepreneur"

The boundless creativity of humans, even among just my small circle of friends, never fails to amaze me. It's so gratifying to see them simply enjoying their artistic and crafting endeavors, perhaps selling a few items here and there for fun, or actually launching a business with their talents.

Rainbow Kids is one such business. This home-based enterprise, which specializes in creating "vibrant and unique tie-dyed clothing for babies, children, and adults" by hand, is the brainchild of my friend Stacia Caplanson, whom I've known since our college days together. Her creativity blooms in the tropical colors of the cotton clothing she sells online and at craft fairs. 

In the 1980s, Stacia and I shared many cups of tea and beautiful southern New England days together, sometimes daydreaming about starting neighboring small farms before our post-college careers took us along different paths and, eventually, different coasts (but not before Stacia taught me how to milk a cow and to overcome my fear of making bread with yeast). 

She was the first person I ever knew who owned and used a spinning wheel.

Today, Stacia produces her vivid clothing in a studio at home in Massachusetts. The process begins with mixing powdered fiber-reactive dyes with water. The clothing is folded, tied, banded by hand, and soaked in a "mordant solution" (a substance that fixes dye to fabric) before having the dye applied with squeeze bottles. Then the clothing is put into a plastic bag so that it can "age" for 24 hours.

After the dye has bonded with the fabric, Stacia rinses out the items and washes them twice so that all traces of excess dye are removed.

At this point, she gets to relish the colorful results of her work. "It is a joy to view each creation as I take it out of the washer. No two are exactly alike," she notes on her website, Rainbow Kids Tie Dye.

Stacia likes to say that each piece is as unique as the person who wears it.

Many people are interested in the origin of the  materials used by crafters, and Stacia enjoys sharing that information with them. 

"I believe in using quality materials that create a product which will be loved and worn for many years," she explains.

"I use fiber-reactive dyes which create colors that are vibrant and long lasting on the 100% cotton clothing that I dye. Most of my dyes and clothing blanks are sourced from a socially responsible company in California that has been in business since 1969. The quality of their dyes is exceptional, and I appreciate that they carry organic cotton clothing, offer clothing sewn by a Bolivian women’s co-op, and source fair-trade products."

Stacia started her own business in October 2008 after years working as a museum interpreter and historian demonstrating spinning, weaving, knitting, quilting, and wool dyeing.

"I wanted to start a home-based business that would allow me to be creative, have a flexible schedule, and create a fun product," she says.


She'd always loved dressing her son in tie-dyed clothing (for one thing, it made him easy to see on the playground!), so she pointed her talents in this new direction. First, she asked a tie-dyeing brother-in-law to teach her how to tie-dye. "His advice was to just jump in and start doing it—and he was right!" she recalls.

 "I did some research, bought a kit, and just started dyeing...and haven’t stopped since then. I was out selling shirts and socks at my first event, a local farmer’s market, just three weeks after I had learned  to fold and dye."

Being a self-employed artisan often means long hours. For Stacia, this includes the wee hours of the night.  "I do most of my work between 9 p.m. and 3 a.m., while my family is sleeping," she says.

It is hard but satisfying work. "I both love and am frustrated that my business is  a one-woman operation," she explains. "I love being able to say that I am the creator of  all the things that I sell and am frustrated that I never have as much inventory as I wish I had when I head out to a market or festival. I also both love the flexibility of being able to be up working  at 1 a.m. yet wish there were more hours during the day to get everything done!"

Her love of craft and color started early. "I have always loved the creative process of working with fabrics, fibers and colors," she notes. As a child, she recalls enjoying all kinds of crafts, particularly making shadow boxes, sewing, knitting, cooking, and doing macramé.

A strong element of play still enlivens her work. Asked to name her favorite aspect of her craft, she quickly responds, "Playing with color! I am constantly learning and creating new color combinations." As inspiration, she cites "the playful nature of children."

Any advice for other crafters who'd like to make the leap into marketing their creations? 

"Love what you do, be prepared to learn a lot and work harder than you ever have,  and know that it is a roller coaster—there are no guarantees and you need to be in it for the long haul," says Stacia. "There will be days when you sell lots and there will be days when you sell little. Some days I long for the stability of the steady paycheck. Building a business takes time and many talents, from creating your product, to researching venues, posting on Facebook, setting up your tent and display, greeting your customers, and paying your taxes.  Find a community of fellow artisans who will share with you what they know and share your triumphs and despair. And believe in yourself and your product."

Tie-dyeing mom entrepreneur Stacia Caplanson is a proud member of the groups Artisans of Western Mass, and Etsy Teams SAHM of Etsy and Made in Massachusetts. Stacia also feels it is important to give back to the community and so she participates and donates to fundraisers that benefit organizations such as Relay for Life, Food Bank of Western Mass, the United Way, and Room to Read, which promotes literacy. 

You can find her colorful creations online at www.rainbowkidstiedye.etsy.com, at farmer's markets in some areas of western Massachusetts (as well as holiday craft festivals), and at outdoor festivals such as the Annual West Brookfield Asparagus Festival, Red Fire Farm’s Tomato Festival, and the CT Garlic and Harvest Festival, and at a local natural food shop. In 2012 Stacia was invited to sell at the Falcon Ridge Folk Festival and Newport Jazz Festival as well as street festivals in Hartford, CT, and Worcester, MA.

Crafty Cravings and Cratered Cheesecake

Advent calendar not made by me.

Crafting-wise, I am called on the carpet every year on the eve of the first day of Advent. November 30th is when I remember, "Oh. Yeah.
I was going to make an Advent calendar for my daughter and maybe even my niece and nephew across the country."

November 30, however, is a bit late to start working on something that is to be used early on December 1.

And then I remember that I had once planned to make an Advent calendar for my sister. Decades ago. She is now all grown up and the mom of that niece and nephew I mentioned.

It's still not too late to make all those crafts I intended to give as Christmas gifts, but give me time. I am ahead of schedule for being behind schedule on those.

Fortunately, it is much easier to go to craft fairs than it is to make crafts (or it is if you go to really good craft fairs, not the events that my friend F. dubs "crap fairs"). There's no shortage of excellent craft fairs in the Pacific Northwest, and two of them fall on the first weekend of December (when I have given up hope of ever making those Advent calendars, anyway).

The first one I enjoyed this past weekend was the Phinney Neighborhood Association's Winter Festival and Crafts Fair. Jewelry, clothing, pottery, toys, ornaments, journals, cards, hats, candles, prints--the variety of arts and crafts is mind-boggling and inspiring. And it's all displayed in a blue wooden building that dates back to 1904, as well as a 1918 brick building, both of which once served as schools. If you weary of crafts, you can park  yourself near the bake sale and take in entertainment that includes belly dancing, marimba music, Morris dancing, and the Ballard Sedentary Sousa Band.

I was tempted by oh, so many things and constantly forgetting that I wasn't supposed to be buying myself Christmas gifts. Luckily, I came across a beautiful display of letterpress prints by Ilee Papergoods in one of those moments of forgetfulness. And so it was that I came home with this cheerful picture of a rooster perched on a coffee cup shouting "Good morning." I figured with somebody that enthusiastic about getting up at the break of dawn waiting in the kitchen, any day would be off to a good start.

On Sunday, I went with my friend F. to the Urban Craft Uprising at Seattle Center, which I'd long  heard about but had never attended. There was a distinctly different vibe to some of the crafts here; lots of jewelry, cards, and other items had a sort of hipster or Goth or steampunk or other aura to them. I use these terms loosely because please note I am not remotely cool and hence am just borrowing adjectives here.

But there were plenty of the more whimsical and playful things I like, such as the adorable felted animals holding human (doll) heads in their jaws made by Moxie, and we stopped to snort and giggle at the weird juxtapositions of naivete and danger in the cards produced by the folks at the aptly named Unusual Cards.

One of those whimsical, playful things beckoned to me and implored me to take it home, and I wish I hadn't had to resist its high-pitched little voice out of a sense of Duty and Responsibility to the household budget and buying stuff for people other than myself. It was an absolutely precious pink chenille animal that I guessed (correctly) was a sheep with a very bunny sort of charm (which makes sense, as it was a creation of Hasenpfeffer Incorporated).

I went back to take a second look just as somebody else was scooping it up and purchasing it. Sigh. Well, at least I know where to find one of its cousins (that would be here).

Upon returning home, I felt inspired to do something more creative than loading the dishwasher. Hmm. Couldn't do needle felting because the last stupid needle broke last week and the new ones hadn't yet arrived.  Not inspired enough to draw. But baking? Oh, yes. In fact, that would be easy: the resident teen had made cheesecake for Thanksgiving, and there was virtually a bucket of cheesecake filling left because we'd made too much.

So it'd literally be a piece of cake to make one--just smash up some graham crackers (such a satisfying activity) and make a crust and bingo; easy as pie. The Thanksgiving cake had developed huge cracks as it baked--which didn't mar its taste at all--but this time I'd turn out a picture-perfect one.

Which I did--but the effect was pretty much destroyed when I set the cake on the counter to cool, opened a cabinet, and reflexively ducked as a heavy bowl dropped like a bomb from the top shelf and landed right on the cake. So instead of exhibiting cracking worthy of the San Andreas fault, the cheesecake boasted a large caldera. Which I totally intended, of course.

10 Things I Buy Too Much Of

Zoowoology 101

I have craft supplies. I have a crafting group. I have craft books and cravings to craft.

What I don't have is time to craft. Which means I don't actually produce any crafts. In fact, I am starting to think that my craft is the collecting of craft supplies.

This abundance of unused materials, depending on the day, sometimes seems to represent Hope (oh, the possibilities! The things I'll create! Just wait!) or Defeat (who am I kidding? I'll never do any of this stuff) or Regret (I've wasted so much money...I'm such an idiot...I never accomplish anything). Perhaps I can get a grant for it as some sort of art installation about evoking raw emotions.

But this past spring I actually did produce something. Not much, but something, and he's kind of cute. It seemed appropriate for him to make his debut on Election Day, being a donkey and all.

He's a product of needle felting, which for those of you who haven't sat around stabbing an extremely sharp and painful needle into your fingertips involves repeatedly stabbing an extremely sharp and painful needle into streamers of unspun wool, or roving, in order to weave, or felt, the fibers together (while avoiding stabbing your fingertips).

Donkey's got an armature of chenille stems (fancy pipe-cleaners), around which I wrapped the roving as I felted. He's therefore poseable, should he wish to strike a dramatic stance or lie down for a nap.

Unfortunately I broke two felting needles making him, since I'm still learning to avoid stabbing the wire of the chenille stems as well as my fingers, so he won't make any friends (or rather, I won't be making him any friends) til I get some new needles.

Despite my low productivity in the craft arena, I really enjoy needle felting. I don't get much time to do cartooning these days; when I'm with my craft group, however, and take up the felting needle and wool, I find that the critters I make resemble the ones I draw. 
Molding animals out of Sculpey never produced the results I wanted, but a felting needle somehow draws the wool fibers out and forms them in the same way a pencil pulls a character together out of lines of graphite.


For some really fun examples of needle-felted animals, check out my friend Eliel Fionn's "Felties" here (her characters also look just like the ones she draws!) as well as fiber artist and author Laurie Sharp's works. My friend Ruth Hendry is a fiber artist who felts, too--her beautiful creations include rugs, scarves, and wall hangings and can be seen here.

In the meantime, anybody interested in some paints, stamp pads, beads, sequins, fabric scraps, artificial flowers, Popsicle sticks...? No?