...and my mother? She’s the godfather. Teacher, retreat organizer, gallery star, historian, ball-busting unionized steveodore complete with warm-from-the-oven rhubarb swirl cake. All that and she’ll whip up a mobile in a weekend, ‘just a little something’ (or at least littler than a handpieced, handquilted 20-year warmth-giving work of art), and there it hangs at our front door, swinging and spinning with every arrival or screendoor breeze.
I know, I’m bragging. But she’s my mom. And she loves polka dots. And stripes. And she points to the little one all by himself at the very bottom, the blue one, and says that one’s for Liam, you see, there are his stars. I got the fabric from an old pair of flannel boxer shorts from Frenchy’s.
Memory box shmemory box. This is love, right now, that of a grandmother.
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This week, I’d love to see your creative shots of creativity—funky weekend projects, canvases, fabric creations, sketches, cakes—yours, or someone else’s. Tell us about it—where did the idea come from? Did it turn out as you’d hoped? Nothing against utilitarian snapshots, but can you capture it with the verve it deserves?
'Cause the more we see each other retreating to create art that’s not needed but wanted, the more likely we’re apt to postpone vaccuming that can wait. And that, my friends, is time finely spent.
Thursday, July 31, 2008 by 
