Art Pin Factory

Today, we gathered to create “art lapel pins,” an idea inspired by my friend Marianne Brown. The initial purpose was to hand stitch lapel pins and the proceeds would help our fundraising efforts for the film Under the Pearl Moon. And yes, in that sense, the afternoon did help to bring us closer to our goal. But it did something more, as well. There are certain things we don't often do together as women, like hand-stitching. Yes, it seems very old fashioned but I have the sense when I stitch with my daughter or my women friends (like today), that something else is going on: something under the surface.  

Throughout the afternoon, there were times of quiet as all of us focused on our work. Other times there was laughter and story-telling. As we worked, I felt that were not only stitching cloth and beads and silk threads but we were also stitching our conversations and our thoughts and our creativity. I am reminded of the Finnish women and their “sewing circles” at the turn of the century. As these women sewed, they also organized themselves as an integral part of the labour movement. Though our sewing circle today may have had a less urgent purpose, it still carried with it that weight of women gathering for the greater good of the community.  And this has left an impression of richness in my life today.

Spring colours

Yellow tulips and a long table of buttons, beads and silk string.

Beautiful selection of beads and pearls

Threading those needles!

A completed lapel pin.

(These photograpsh were taken by Marianne Brown throughout our afternoon together.)

When objects begin to choke, rather than inspire

I collect things. Most people do. I collect things because of the inspiration that the object happens to give me. Usually it has some sort of nostalgic connotation but not always. Sometimes, I'll collect something because I like the texture, or colour, or quirkiness of it. Or because I think I will some day integrate it into a piece of art. All the this becomes dangerous territory when a person happens to own a basement. Because basements seem to have no limit in terms of how much stuff can be crammed into a tight space. And basements are hidden from guests. So embarrassment alone will not entice a person to organize or clean out a basement. In fact most of us will not clean out a basement until we're literally forced into it; such as a flood or a move. Only then is the truth revealed. Only then must we face the ridiculousness of objects we have treasured beyond the point of sanity. Only then, when the rock is turned over, do we see all the bugs trying to squirm their way out of the daylight.

I faced my own basement last week. We could no longer walk through it. All paths had been cut off. The only function-able corner was the washing machine and that corner was quickly becoming threatened. I had to face it sooner or later and for whatever reason, my son and I took charge and descended. Five days later, we emerged. The job is not yet over but there is definite improvement.


Throughout those five days, I asked myself 'What could possibly be creative about this?” This feels like the equivalent to digging up potatoes all day. Or replacing shingles on a roof. However, I trusted that somehow i would extract creativity from the job. And eventually, I have to say, I did find the link. And it comes in the form of letting go. By releasing and giving away objects- bits and pieces of art objects or objects I had intended on 'up-cycling'- I am saying “that was me then but it is no longer me now”. And by throwing something out or giving something away, I'm not erasing that older version of myself either. She'll always live and breath in me somewhere. I don't need mounds and mounds of proof in the form of boxes of stuff.

The creativity comes in the form of a now-empty pallet (well, not quite empty as that would be an exaggeration). And some objects were spared; I kept my plaster squashes that I made years ago as part of a window installation. And I kept my tin cans of bees wax, simply because I love the smell of bees wax. And I did find a vase that I filled to the brim with daisies from my back yard. It's an exciting new chapter I'm beginning. And I have a space now, to write the contents of that chapter into. Or begin to collect all over again!

moon through the window

The other night I was sitting on the couch, feeling a bit tired and worn, just having put the polishing touches on the day. And when I looked out of my front window, I noticed the moon was shining directly through a glass ornament I had hung from the window over the Christmas holidays. (The truth is, I have a number of places in the house where I've left up the decorations. It's part laziness and partly that I like the way the ornaments look.) These are two pictures I took, ten minutes from each other. These are small blessings; these windows that bring me the moon.

plum jam

I've made plum jam every year for years, from a plum tree in what is now my mother's back yard. Years ago, it was my back yard. We had transplanted a plum tree from the bush and my Italian neighbour grafted the tree with a branch from his own plum tree. This year, we must've had over a hundred dusty-blue plums... or "plooms", as my wonderful now ninety-year-old neighbour pronounces it. Each year, I skin the plums and make the plum jam and though it tastes delicious, it always looks a bit brownish in colour. This year, I did not peel the plums. Instead I simply cut them in half, added a cup of honey and a bit of agar-agar. I brought the mixture to a boil and then poured it into two large jars. The colour is so amazing.... a brilliant, deep purple-red. It's a bit like the colour of red currents. And it also tastes amazing. I love it on toast with a nice nice of swiss cheese on top.

The Blue Room

I painted up this lovely room that faces the east. However, when the room was complete, though the blue is a very peaceful colour, it just seemed too ordinary. This house has layers and layers of wallpaper in every room. In fact, the wallpaper cannot be stripped, because it literally holds the hundred year old walls in place. I found a solution by painting small strips down the walls every few feet, and stenciling it to look a bit like wallpaper. I also carved the stencil so it's an original.