– Time For A Tiara: Column by Ginna Young – - Create art that makes you happy

– Time For A Tiara: Column by Ginna Young –

Lately, I’ve thought about diving back into my creative side, which includes embroidery, cross stitch and painting. So far, all I’ve gotten are a couple towels and an embroidery hoop, but baby steps.

I never had many real art supplies, but one of the greatest birthday gifts I ever received, was a large wooden easel that opened and folded. It was made by one our former landlords at Mellen, who was very crafty.

He knew, even at my young age, that I loved to paint and made it specially for me. I wonder what gave it away? Perhaps setting out my poster paints and brushes to watch Bob Ross’ instructional program each day? A happy little trees lives right here and maybe he has a friend!

Anyway, I never had an actual canvas – in fact, most times, I didn’t have actual drawing paper, just the blank backside of whatever paper was available. I preferred white, of course, but you took what you could get, even pale yellow, pink and goldish/ orange, the “oops” carbon copies of Dad’s work report sheets.

Those weren’t ideal, because they had a greasy texture and were so thin, you could see the type and/or written mistakes on the other side. Still, I made do.

My mediums were the palette case of watercolor paint and poster paints in their long row. I can smell those poster paints to this day, whenever I think of them!

Each set of the watercolor and poster paints came with a brush, thankfully, because you could get one or the other, not both. So, the tiny, faux bristle brushes had to last and were cleaned after every art session.

As for the art itself, I’d do regular pieces: trees, houses, animals, people, flowers, landscapes, but I also dabbled in abstract, which were my favorites. Mom never really understood them, but she made sure to ooh and ahh accordingly.

One time – and I can still see the look on her face – I had a knock-off poster paint set (I know, how much knock-off can you get, right?) and mixed the colors in varying shades, making an uneven swatch all over the papers. I called these my paint samples. Poor Mom. She never understood why I loved those so, but to this day, I think of them and wish I had them!

My paints found other uses, as well, as I cut apart brown paper grocery bags, created designs on them and used them as wrapping paper. I also painted small cast-off boxes and once, cut up a potato chip box, painted the blank sides blue and orange, taped them together and made a house.

It had a door, cut-out windows and a flat roof, and any inspector worth his salt, would have shuddered at the cracks on the uneven seams from my “by-eye” cutting with safety scissors, but I was proud of it. It sat on the old organ we had for a couple years, until we moved here to Cornell; I then put the house up for sale, with a sign and everything.

That made Mom cry and Dad feel bad, but it just seemed like the right thing to do. We were leaving and that house went with the big house. It’s funny how your art becomes part of you and you want it to reflect your life.

Eventually, my darling easel started falling apart and the hinge stuck horribly. Dad wasn’t sure he could fix with, so I heartbrokenly parted with it and turned to other mediums, since I didn’t have a dedicated spot to paint anymore. When our cockatiel shed her tail feathers, I’d save them and use them as quills to paint with, on paper, but also on the surface of pumpkins, drawing freehand.

Yeah, I guess it was strange, but I enjoyed the texture of the pumpkin skin and was able to do some cool pieces; I boasted that I could paint anything, using that quill-dippedin- poster-paint method. My friend growing up dared me to make a portrait of Abraham Lincoln, so I did.

When he saw it, he wasn’t even mad I had showed him up, he thought it was so neat that it truly looked just like the picture in the history book, but he was mad when Mom wouldn’t let him take the pumpkin home. She just couldn’t part with it.

I also became more adept at colored pencil work, making homemade cards for holidays and birthdays, and designing my own paper doll clothes. Of course, as I got into my mid-teens, I had no time to continue my art, as Dad was very ill, and Mom and I were his caregivers.

After that, I watched my niece until she was school-age and then got a job. As the years passed, I worked longer and more hours, and my volunteer efforts really kicked in, so there was no time for art. I also became Mom’s caretaker the last few years, which is a full-time job, in and of itself.

Now that she decided to permanently move into our local care center, I’ve thought very hard about picking my crafting hobbies back up. I still don’t have a lot of time, but I remember how good they made me feel and if I have a few moments, I can still enjoy the hobby when I’m able.

I can afford canvas now, as well as art paper, and acrylic paint and real brushes, but I think I’ll still get a thing of watercolors and poster paints. Those expensive supplies are great, but there’s no better feeling that opening a fresh watercolor case or a brand new jar of poster paint.

Art is about expression and however that happens doesn’t matter, it’s the feeling you get making that creation and of seeing yourself in it. Maybe I’ll make some new paint samples and get them framed.

I bet Mom would like some for her room – as long as I don’t block her view of the picture I hung up of Jason Momoa!