Childhood

Lately, as I have read about others lives on personal blogs, I have read so many cute stories of when the now adult, but then child had family members that encouraged them in their art, or how creative they were in their play days.

I was the youngest of three brothers, so in other words...an only child. One brother moved out when I was born and the other was a young teen.

It felt like I was alone all of the time, and my parents surely didn't hold back great toys for me. So, today, I thought, I would just remember some of the toys and how I played by myself or with little friends from the neighborhood.

WHY? You may ask why am I reminiscing. I want to be ART inspired, with my own style, my own imaginations, my own colors, paint strokes...

So, I figured if I thought about some of those times, maybe they would bring about creativity.

Let me bore you...

My girlfriend Rita and I would play with her father's soap powder. He had a little room he had a sink and a dispencer for that funny smelling pink soap powder that used to be in the school's bathrooms. He also cut alot of wood so there was always sawdust. I couldn't get enough of that soap powder, water and sawdust to make this sticky goopy pink bubbly dinner to feed my dolls. My girlfriend Rita would tell me that her father was mad because we were using up all of the powdered soap. Oh, how I loved playing with that stuff, mixing it, putting it into our little plastic cups and bowls, and feeding my dolls.

My mom and dad bought me a red micky mouse phone for Christmas. It was like an old fashioned pay phone, and you would put a little record in it. When you dialed it as though you were making a phone call, the record started, and Mickey would talk to you and you would answer questions. I really felt like I was talking to someone when I held that red phone receiver. I really wonder today how big that phone was. It seemed big!

My cousin had a cardboard kitchen, with the phone and a place you could make-believe you were cooking. The only problem, he wouldn't let me in as often as I would have liked. There was something about that little kitchen/store that made me feel like I was in an actual wonderland.

Tub time was a blast. Did any of you really think you were swimming. I had the pink Mr. Bubbles (there is that pink color again), and it smelled different than it does today. I had silly foam that you would spray on the wall in the tub or make a beard out of. And I had fuzzy wuzzy, a bar of soap that after wet, it would grow fur in a few days. What a magical experience. When I was in that clawfooted tub, and the little plugged in heater was on because it was surely cold in the bathroom, I thought I was actually swimming, really swimming in a large body of water. I have never been able to get rid of that image. I do go to the beach at least once a month now, but I still have dreams of water and swimming, so it is never out of my system. I think I am a mermaid!

Penny candy, yes candy for a penny or even two for a penny. Mom and Dad would take me into a penny candy store at Cape Cod in the 1960's. My whole bag, paper bag, was filled, filled with candy, for $2.00 filled, oh my, big daddy's, hot balls, green apple, foot long bubble gum, pezz, That candy lasted me the whole weekend at the Cape and even some to take home.

My bicycle was my car. I had a blue bike, sissy bar up above my head, a water bottle attached and a white basket on the front, and little tassles hanging out of the handles. I drove everywhere with that bike, filling the basket with jacks, jump rope and chinese jumprope, chaulk, balls, dolls...then one day, I slipped on the sand that was left on the road from the bad winter and the trucks had not cleaned it up yet. We would take large brooms and make paths in the sand, and then drive our bikes in the path's or play Wizard of Oz down the path. I was driving my bike too fast, and I lived at the bottom, of a steep hill. I fell and got my first fat lip. I can't remember who, but someone helped me get home. I was only about 6 or 7 when your parents could let you ride your bike alone at that age.

Well, just a few of my thoughts. I hope I can integrate them into my art.

Dolls and Dummie Heads/Figures

He has a bit of everything and I mean everything. I told George I would love to just go into one of his buildings. I am sure he would have everything I would want or have been looking for.

Coffee and Tea Staining and Aging Fabric for Fabric Journals o Primitiver Dolls

I recently have seen a new stain formula combining coffee and tea to make your fabric journals or your handmade dolls look shabby, stained, grungy, antiqued, vintage and quite aged.

Mix tea already brewed, instant coffee, cinnamon, vanilla (a tad) and let fabric sit for a bit. I have found that cotton, or muslin absorbs the color where a polyester or acrylic type fabric does not. (You can buy various degrees of cream or tan colored cotton or muslin). It resists the color. Do not rinse your fabric because the new color will wash out. Let it sit in the fibers of the fabric, and lightly squeeze the fabric, lie it down on an old towel to dry. You can also use a hair dryer or your dryer to remove the excess moisture or hang it up on a line with something underneath if it drips. I would stain my fabric first before cutting out the doll patterns.

Various teas like raspberry or blueberry tea have a different pigment and can make the fabric a bit pink tinged or purplish tinged.

After you make your doll or book, put some coffee grounds into your matte medium to paint over it in places leaving a texture, a coffee scent and a matte covering for the fabric.

So now get off to those primitive dolls and aged old fabric journals.

Antique and Vintage

It seems that more and more people today are loving clothing, furniture, nicnacs and such that are "vintage" or "antique". This statement does not make me an expert in all sorts of antiques or vintage items. My observance of this is because I spend alot of time in antique shops or stores in Massachusetts, New Hampshire and less, but in Maine. This is because I am a New Englander and that is a pass time of mine. My family has tried to put up with it and my husband is pretty good at taking me or stopping with me and showing me his care for me in going in the stores.

There was one antique shop in the town of Haverhill, that has now closed but was a place I would find myself looking forward to going to as though it was a haven. This building was three floors, two floors of it opened to the public with booths filled with vintage and antique items; antique clothing, antique shoes, antique dolls, furniture, tools, stamps, coins, record players, dish ware, bedroom furniture, instruments, war items and on an on. The factory was split with a wall and both sides of the walls on both floors had booths rented by different people. I had favorite booths.

One booth was shabby chic. Her items were white,, lilac, pink, rusty metal, silk plants, white wood wall hangings. Another booth had kitchen items that reminded me of being a tiny little girl. The bowls were white with red flowers on them, alot of items were tin like the flower and sugar container.

Oh and my favorite was a gardening booth. I actually bought a garden gate from that antique dealer. I still have it. I used it in my house to separate two rooms. This year, I had it out in my yard on my patio and placed clay pots filled with red geraniums in the top of the gate where there is a flower box construction made of the same metal as the gate. I have kept the vintage gate just as is with the rust and chippy white paint.

I felt like I was in a dreamy dream when I would walk through there. When I first moved to Haverhill after being newly married, that antique world was the only place I could find and feel comfortable in. After 2 to 3 hours of lingering with such delight, I would then go home with my brown paper bag of items (except the garden gate of course).

I have found my old bottles, my bird cages, antique post cards and vintage photos in other various shops in the area.

I love old stuff!

Can I tell if something is older than another item? Mostly not, but if I like a crochet doily, it doesn't matter to me if it is vintage or not. I like the doily and I decorate with it. It just so happens that I love old crockery and have a couple of pieces that were left in my old house of Cherry Valley where one day I climbed up into the attack with a ladder and found two pieces of crockery left up there to collect rain drips. Those were quickly snapped up and used to decorate.

This fall, I will take one of those crocks and fill it with my yarrow and other herbs that have dried from my yard. Oh, the scent of dried herbs in a crock up on my hutch is so soothing during the fall and winter months. The combination of yarrow, mint, spearmint, artemesia, coneflowers, echinecia oooo, they are drying on my little porch right now getting reading to be an lovely ornamentation in my country kitchen.