I AM AN ARTIST  

For the past nine months I've rented studio space at CASA (Creative Artists Studios of Ames).  I was not sure exactly why, other than to get my "arts and crafts" supplies out of my apartment's spare closet. And to be truthful, I love to imagine people seeing my stories represented in visual expressions as well as words.  Now, today, I finally have enough work to put in the CASA Holiday Sale.

Like all the other artists, this morning I took my place behind a table, looking as pleasant and artist-y as I could, offering explanations to the questions browsers asked their companions.  "I wonder where the jewelry come from?  Or if they're old?" asked one looker to her friend.  "Is this painted or quilted?" another whispered to her friend.

After about an hour, I jumped in to the conversations, uninvited, and said, "I collect vintage and precious metal costume jewelry.  I imagine stories that might belong with the pieces," I continued.  "Like that black enamel heart," I motioned to the shadow box with Mary, the mother of Jesus, holding an embroidry floss braided rope that is dragging a heart-shaped piece of holstein cow fabric.  "I imagine that this brooch would be worn by someone who has had a bit of bad luck in the love department."  I was pretty proud of myself for trying to invent a quirky story to go with the piece.  Kind of like my life.  Invent something other than the truth.

I refrained from sharing my very personal, but true, story of having a dairy farmer father - hence the holstein cows - who sexually abused me as a child.  I held back how that experience has cast a black pall over my ability to have a normal relationship - hence, the black heart.   The black heart brooch over the holstein cows sums up what happened to me.  I did not tell them the truth about the piece they were admiring.  Like so many other times when dealing with the incest, I lightened the dark reality sewn into that piece of art into to a story that was quirky and fun, but a lie.  I wonder, is there a disclaimer I need to make to potential buyers?  I can't imagine saying, "That piece deals with my experience of incest.  I'm all better now, have processed that whole unfortunate part of my life, but the experience still works it's way into my art, my writing, and the way I view the world - sometimes."  Perhaps those browsers read my mind.  They smiled awkwardly and moved on to the the pottery table.

Sometime later another person looked at the BVM piece and said, "Oh!  Look at this!"  And the man with her replied, "The blessed virgin.  You love anything with Mary on it.  Do you want it?"  A short discussion ensued that ended with their purchase of a representation of a very dark part of my life.  The few words I said during the transaction process were, "Cash? Check? Credit Card? and Thank you so much!"

As I watched them walk away with the art, imagining where it would go and how they would present it to their friends, I felt a piece of me walking away with them.  And it felt good.  Maybe, I thought, just maybe, those nice people can hold a bit of that very heavy part of my life.

I learned a lot about art today.  Well, my relationship with art, to be more specific.  The pieces I make are small parts of me.  I am painted, stitched, beaded and glued into my art.  Even though it now belongs to someone else, it will always truly be mine.  Its energy and image will always reside with me.  If I remain open, I believe the positive energy and love the new owners are infusing into the piece will find its way back to me - just like sunshine, or rain, or oxygen.

So, thanks, buyers, for taking my art into your life.  I am already feeling your healing energy in my imagination.  Your love and joy for Mary is more transformative and transcendant than you'll ever know.  Now, back to work . . . . I have two more black heart brooches that need transforming.

I send black hearts with

Anyone who will take them.

They return transformed .

Namaste friends,

Lori