When I was young, my mother worried about the silence in my bedroom. She would often check in on me, only to find me sprawled out on the floor, happily drawing or coloring without a care. I still sprawl out on the floor believe it or not, only now it’s commissioned projects I’m working on. My preferred spot is on a rug I purchased during a birthday getaway to Santa Fe. I think of it as my creative magic carpet.
I work out of my home, primarily in two specific rooms. The room with my magic carpet I call my “creative womb” and stock with my easel, paints and sewing machine. The other room is “businessy,” with a computer, file cabinets and coursework from the various workshops and college courses I teach. Both rooms have wood floors, nice light and long walls. Children’s books make for large projects, so I use the walls for pacing out visuals. My latest book, a coloring book for grown-ups, has 128 drawings. Viewing the images on the wall was essential to my creative process.
Although this isn’t my first home, my past addresses have likewise served as my studio. My first home-studio space was a bedroom with a quilt hung from the ceiling as a room divider. Sometimes I wonder if it would be more professional or hip to move into a traditional studio space, but then I remember how much I love shuffling into my sunny nook each morning, socks on my feet and cup of tea in hand. I also enjoy working at night and scuffing down the hall to go to bed.
I grew up in a household where everyone was creative and made things. My mother sewed, wrote and acted in local theater. My father built furniture, painted and carved us Christmas ornaments. My brother made movies with his action figures. My sister painted and dyed her Barbies’ hair. On my birthdays, my father took me to art museums. My mom and grandmother nourished my love of books with library visits and gifts of books. I took piano lessons but didn’t practice much. I colored on the sheet music instead. I still love to color and can’t play the piano.
I think I was born with an entrepreneurial spirit. In my early teens, I sold macramé shell jewelry, notecards and posters with original designs. As a college student, I borrowed my parents’ car to attend the National Stationary Show. I was getting rejection letters from the card companies but was still making and selling things on my own.
“Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road. Healthy, free, the world before me, The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.”
— Walt Whitman
After college, I attended classes in New York City. I took a children’s book illustration class, fell in love with the process and knew it was what I wanted to do with my life. I pounded the pavement with my art and stories. The tough skin I developed in those early years still serves me today. It’s hard not to take the rejection personally—when a project you love is turned down it hurts! Reading about successful female artists has always inspired me to keep going.
After years of creating art for children, my creative spirit wanted to express more grown-up ideas. It led me to create work using old photographs and family letters, such as my grandmother’s buttons or flowers pressed from my grandfather’s garden. When my father passed away, my creative voice encouraged me to participate in Surtex, the big licensing show held every year in New York. I used the money my father had left me, plus some muscled-up courage, to get myself there. I ended up getting my first giftware line at that show.
Even after all my success, I still doubt myself sometimes. I keep the dollar bills I made from my first children’s book, my first magazine job and my first giftware line as a reminder of my potential.
I admire artists who are unchanging in their medium and style. From time to time I’m critical of myself for not being able to stick to one thing, but I know that’s not me. I get bored doing one thing for too long. I listen when my creative voice suggests I take a new direction. Several years ago, I was honored with a retrospective of my work. Titled “Under the Creative Umbrella,” the show covered all aspects of my career. Displaying all of my work together in one continuum created a wonderful story I had not been able to see with my overly critical eyes.
I tend to be less critical of other artists’ work than I am of my own. I feel I have a good mix of evaluation, knowledge and passion when I teach. I love being with other artists and really value teaching undergraduate and graduate classes and workshops. It’s fun evaluating color and design in pieces of art, and I am continually inspired by my students’ work. Being in a classroom or workshop for the day is also a wonderful form of creative escapism. I can close the door, give an assignment and recreate my blissful childhood state of art supplies and no cares.
In addition to the work I show the world, I have “Good Girl” books in which I express emotions and experiences through my alter ego and child-self. Sometimes I attach a sweet photo of myself when I was a little girl. I turned to these books when my father died and my marriage ended. I continue to work here when I’m depressed, blue or questioning life. Mid-life and menopause have opened my heart to more questions. I’m being led to express female themes that have always interested me. My creative spirit is telling me that this personal imagery needs to go out into the world. This is really frightening for me, but I’m gathering courage for the next step on my path. I’m grateful every day for the career I have had and am looking forward to where my path will lead me next. For right now, I’m going to spread out on my magic carpet with my art supplies and no cares.
P.S. I love this!
My favorite item in my “businessy” space is a small, hand-carved Noah’s Ark my father made for me just before he died. It reminds me of my creative roots and to be playful when I make things. My favorite item in my “creative womb” space is a beautiful hand-stitched charm quilt my mother made for me. It was a great accomplishment for her to sew it with her arthritic hands. The quilt reminds me that I’m always loved and to nurture myself. It also reminds me of how beautiful life can be in its little memories, like the quilt’s little squares of fabric.
