Tasha Tudor

I’ve always loved the art of Tasha Tudor.  Before I was born, my mom bought me A Time to Keep, and many of Tasha’s books were among our favorite childhood read-alouds.  Her illustrations draw you into another world.

 

That’s not to romanticize Tasha or her way of life.  She herself said, “The past wasn’t as romantic as people seem to think.  There were many hardships, especially for women.”  She also said, “People have a rose-colored lens when they look at me.  They don’t realize I’m human.  They don’t see the real me.  As Mark Twain said, we are like the moon, we all have our dark side that we never show to anybody.” 

 

I grew up on a farm—not quite as primitive as Tasha’s, but moving in that direction—and there was bad along with the good.  I experienced 5AM births of wide-eyed fuzzy calves, drank milk fresh from the cow, gathered warm brown eggs from beneath hens, and picked produce from our huge garden.  Many nights we sat down for our family supper and everything on the table came from our farm.  But…Animals die.  Drought kills crops, gardens, and flowers.  Accidents happen with equipment.  And probably the biggest negative, animals can come between the farmer and human relationships, for if there’s no responsible stand-in, their daily care keeps him from travel or spending much time away, even evening engagements.  They always come first. 

So that’s a consideration for those longing for this kind of life.  It’s the main reason I haven’t pursued it for myself.  For me, people need to come first.  Unless it’s an issue of life and death, I never want to have to choose between spending time with the people I love and caring for an animal.  Maybe one day I will find a way to strike some sort of balance, but for now a lifestyle is not worth the sacrifices I’d have to make in my relationships. 

Still, Tasha’s life and her work are a sort of rustic fairy tale, an escape from the rigors of daily life to a state of charming pastoral perfection.  I adore her books.  They inspire me to pursue my passions, embrace femininity, spend time doing things with my children.

I didn’t have time to post on Tasha Tudor Day, but I did steal a few moments in the midst of a busy weekend to page through The PrivateWorld of Tasha Tudor.  Over the next day or so I hope to read some of Tasha’s books with my children.

Thanks to Clarice and Suzanne for hosting Tasha Tudor Day!  I enjoyed every post!

Sewing Slipcovers

~::~sorry, don't know the image source...but my slipcovers are supposed to look something like this!~::~

I stayed up late last night sewing slipcovers for our dining room chairs. My awesome husband just recovered the cloth seats and I scotchguarded them liberally, but with my rowdy crew I knew they needed an additional cover.

I've read about so many cool projects using painter's drop cloth, so I decided to give it a try. It's durable, already "distressed," and somewhat spill resistant. Besides, I can get a 9X12 for $25. That beats buying fabric by the yard!

Of course, the one night that I forgo doing dishes, laundry, and picking up in favor of sewing, and then get up and put on scruffy painting clothes, is the morning that my sweet, gorgeous friend calls bright and early to say she's dropping by with a gift of fresh fish! Well, the good thing about that is that we got things picked up in record time--and then she didn't even come in! So funny how that seems to work out.

I finished all the edges, hemmed the ruffles, and stitched the gathering threads. Now I can gather and pin the ruffles in the evening when I'm talking to my husband or watching TV. Hopefully I'm on the home stretch! This has been a much bigger project than I anticipated. Pictures to come.

Now I'm off to prime and paint a giant bunk bed! If anyone's reading, I hope you are having a happy, busy day too!

Becoming an Artist

~::~Ginger Rodgers~::~

I remember the day that my thinking changed about art and what it means to be an artist. Until that day, I thought an artist was a painter or someone who drew, who sold their art for money. I suppose I thought most people who could be considered artists were famous, like Monet or Normal Rockwell.

Then in the early days of blogging I stumbled upon an odd little blog by a Jewish-turned-Presbyterian free spirit sort of woman who wore tiered skirts she’d thrifted one on top of the other, wrote zines, and called herself an artist. She made a lot of different things, including altered books which I didn’t and don’t understand. I don’t think she really sold her art. She didn’t have an Etsy shop or a booth at a craft fair. Yet she called herself an artist. I was fascinated and read her entire blog in a couple days, many months’ worth of writing. I turned this idea over and over in my mind that an ordinary person could be an artist, that perhaps I too could be an artist.

~::~vintage girl on bike~::~

For many years I said that I was not creative. My sisters were creative, I said, but I only copied what I saw other people do. I was really very unoriginal. I loved to create but none of my ideas were my own, so I didn’t feel as if I could claim them. Something happened, though, as I copied others. It took a few years, but after awhile I started getting my own ideas. At first they were pretty lame, but I was trying. Now I am full of ideas! Especially when I have a little extra time and my schedule is less pressured, creativity flows through me in a torrent, so many ideas for things to write and make that I sometimes can’t even sleep.

I fully believe that all people are made in the image of a creative God and that his creativity resides inside us, just waiting to be unleashed. For most of us, though, that creativity is stifled. Maybe we’ve been tightly controlled and haven’t had the opportunity to spread our creative wings, maybe our educational environment stifled creativity, or maybe we have been conditioned to be takers of the creativity of others (such as through recorded music and television), not contributors to the creative world.

~::~Elizabeth Taylor~::~

In any case, I now know that I’m creative. As for calling myself an artist—well—I don’t know. I don’t really think of myself as an artist, but I do think of myself as someone who makes art or wants to make art. This can take many forms, from a craft project to arranging a room to blogging to learning to take pictures. I love the concepts of beauty and design, but I find that I am very halting in my own expressions. I find myself saying things like, “Blogging helps me become a better artist,” so maybe in my heart I already know that I am!

What do these bike images have to do with being an artist? Nothing whatsoever. I found them all at Riding Pretty.