art
Family-themed art is a look into one's living room; it depicts celebration, crises, and the quiet moments of familial interactions.
Wanna Be Hero
A Wanna Be Hero “Where did my scissors go?” I lifted the stack of graph paper, fingers spreading out to catch the sand-paper cutouts. The rhombus fell to the floor. Best to stick with beginner patterns, I thought. Sewing the diamonds together was no feet for a wanna-be hero's second quilt. I put the cutout in the drawer, thinking I might use them in a later quilt. That first quilt had been a nine patch and embroidery Hero quilt. I glanced over at the yards of fabric the grandson's mother had bought. Making this second quilt would make me my daughter's hero too.
By kim buffington5 years ago in Families
Our Family Rocks!
As I walked home one day from visiting my mother, enjoying the sunshine and solitude, I found a painted rock. It made me so excited because my fiancee is a rock enthusiast and knew it would make her green with envy. I had never seen a painted rock but she had. On the back was the ladies social media site. Not long after we found many more of her rocks. It was such a joy to find them and take them and place them in different places for others to find. It was then that as a family we decided to create our own social media page and paint and hide our own rocks to see how far they would travel. I have found so much joy in us spending time together as a family, away from our electronics. It brings me so much joy to see my family's faces light up with their excitement when they finish painting. It brings me even more joy at their excitement when someone finds what they've painted. We've had a few that have made it out of the state, in fact, across the other side of the states. We hope to have them make it round the globe, but if not I'm content with having a wonderful family hobby. There's something special about spending time with the one's I love, laughing and talking as we paint our rocks. We proceed to take them around town and place them in various places for people to find. We post our pictures online and watch and wait in eager hopefulness that they will be found. Even when we're not painting rocks we are buying paints and looking for rocks that would be good for painting. We also search the internet in our downtime for good ideas. Another great thing about doing this is that we have an opportunity to send a positive message to the people who find our rocks. Way too often in my past I have been consumed by electronics and it was as if I was disconnected from reality. This is such a helpful way to tune in to the world around me. To smell the flowers and see the mountains and trees, listen to the birds and the creek's and my all-time favorite, my eight and eleven year old step-sons telling me "lets hide one here" with such excitement in their voices. Just typing that makes me smile. Too often we let these small things in life pass us by and I don't want to miss out on it. I would suggest painting rocks to anyone as a great way to spend time with their families or even to someone who is looking for a constructive way to pass time. I find this hobby as extremely therapeutic and enjoyable and feel that many people reading this would as well, and it is quite easy actually. Now instead of my fiancee being envious of me finding that first rock, I’m the envious one at how well she does compared to me. As of today, we have been doing this for a little over a month and the immense joy and sheer serenity in it is mind blowing. Writing has always been my passion but this is where I find my happiness and I’m positive that it is due to the fact that it brings us all together as a family. So in conclusion, I strongly recommend painting rocks. It is by far the most enjoyable pastime that I have ever had. Keep your eyes peeled and you may just happen to see one of our rocks laying around and hopefully you will find the joy that i have found when you do.
By Jared Hogston5 years ago in Families
Threads of Generations
The thrumming of my sewing machine will always bring a nostalgic calm over me. Growing up my grandmother, who raised me, used to sit in her sewing room every night conjuring amazing creations from simple fabric and thread. I used to pull up a chair and watch her, fascinated as she performed these magic acts. I would prattle on about my day, boys, school while she worked away, occasionally pausing to show me how to sew in a zipper or how to rethread the machine. She made everything, she made curtains, dresses, Halloween costumes, pillows, anything I could ever imagine.
By Tyra Mitchell 5 years ago in Families
Mindfullness diamond painting
Being a single mum has been hard work, while doing everything for a child sometimes we just need some time to figure things out about ourselves and to bring our stress levels down and allows me to focus on things other than diabetes, court, house stuff and study.
By Tanika Stimpson5 years ago in Families
Perfectly Unskilled
Creativity runs in my family. My brother plays the drums, my mother plays the piano, my father is a successful artist. As for me, I am still struggling to find that creative spark. It seems everyone has a natural talent that oozes from them effortlessly. I feel as though my creativity may have been put on back order.
By Brittney Dyson5 years ago in Families
Because of Betsy
When I was a little girl in the late 60s, it seemed everyone’s mother subscribed to Good Housekeeping, Ladies’ Home Journal, and most importantly, McCall’s. Most importantly, because McCall’s was the home of Betsy McCall, undisputed princess of the paper doll world and obsession of schoolgirls everywhere. Betsy, with her beautiful outfits and her interesting friends and her wonderful adventures, was the girl we all dreamed about being.
By Donna Thiel Cook5 years ago in Families
Blue & Moo Goo
Blue & Moo Goo Why not, I said to myself. Become a famous writer, how hard could it be. I think I’ll start with writing Picture Books; I like to draw. I can see myself now, sitting in the children’s cove at Barnes & Noble, coffee in one hand, my favorite pen in the other. Little rosy-cheeked prince and princesses waiting in line to get their favorite book signed, well, at least favorite for now. Only one nose picker today, not bad. I had just read to them for storytime, and not one of them fell asleep. They were engaged; it is a good day.
By Kimberly Paulus5 years ago in Families
Origin of Antique Chairs
The antique chairs have not always been popular. The lower and middling classes sat on benches and stools throughout the mediaeval era and before. The chair did not become a symbol of high rank or privilege until the Renaissance in Europe, when it became a common piece of furniture for the expanding middle class. With the "luxury" associated with the chair removed, it quickly became popular across Europe, and it quickly became a symbol of the time's trends.
By Kevin Taylor5 years ago in Families
Dream time
When I think of my favorite bedtime story, it is not one story I think of, but I am transported back in time to being 4 or 5 years old. My mom has dropped me off at her parents’ place on the countryside, my grandma is about to prepare my favorite dinner; Homemade French Fries, and she could really use my ’help’ to set the table. My Grandfather arrives home from his job perfectly timed with dinner being served. I always loved my grandparents, already when I was young they were such unique characters to me. My grandfather never told me to not do anything, he left that responsibility to my grandmother. He would warn me not to put my hands on the stove and explain with a small amount of words why it could end badly to run with scissors but more than anything, he‘d play tricks on me, pull jokes, prank me. It was like a small theater play, and my grandmother would hold my hand as we adventured all together. In summer, after dinner, we’d sit in the garden as quietly as we could, on chairs right next to the table where my grandmother would feed the birds. My grandfather would drink up to three dark beers, and I believed him when he told me butterflies liked beer. As we sat there in silence, watching the spectacular amount of birds my grandmother was feeding, peacock butterflies would come together on my grandfather‘s white shirt, sipping from his beer, Showing 4 eyes each time they open their wings.
By Cifer Mushu5 years ago in Families
The Brown Paper Bag
Once upon a time, there was a girl who dreamed of sewing. And knitting. And crocheting. But most of all, she dreamed of embroidering. That’s because one day her grandmother gave her a present. It was a gift that was especially important because her grandmother had many grandchildren. And she could have given this gift to any of the older ones. But she didn’t. She gave this twelve-year-old girl her most precious possession – a small brown paper bag with all the colors of the rainbow in it. And a wooden hoop. The girl didn’t know what to do with these beautiful things so she tucked them away on her secret shelf in her bedroom closet – the shelf with the sparkly stones that she found on a camping trip, and the beautiful necklace that her friend gave her.
By Gigi Gibson5 years ago in Families
Scissor Dreams
Scissors, I came across this word while I was looking for sewing supplies and I started thinking about how sewing and creating has become such a large part of who I am. Sewing is one of my earliest memories and one of the first things I ever made was a mermaid out of an old sock as a gift for my grandmother. Years later, after her death, I found it in her box of "Important papers". She was the reason that I sewed, she bought me a sewing machine and a good pair of scissors when I was nine and told me how to care for them. Only use these scissors to cut fabrics and dreams, she said and I took heed.
By Jamine Santiago5 years ago in Families
My Mother's Birthday Cards
Every year, for as long as I can remember, I used to make my mother a card for her birthday, and when I was younger, also for any other special occasions during the year. She loved them, they made her so happy and she made her appreciation so apparent that it always made it worth it! The whole room lit up when she smiled with her sparkling green eyes. She left last year (by left, I mean to the place from which one never returns…) and so, as I now go through her things - a task I find so very hard, and yet in other ways rewarding, I keep finding these cards which she treasured, hidden between books on her shelves, or kept in special envelopes amongst other papers. I know they were very special to her and I loved making them. Somehow, perhaps because my father was a painter and a cartoonist, who made his own beautiful cards - I keep finding those too, I wanted to use my own medium with which to create mine. That medium became whatever I could find, mostly coloured paper and or coloured card, which I would cut into shapes with scissors, and in more recent years, a pair of Fiskar scissors with their vibrant orange handle! My mother was a writer, and I would often take inspiration from her passion for writing and literature for these cards and make some tiny little books with coloured paper on the outside and white paper on the inside that I would stitch on so that they could be little “3D” objects on the card. Sometimes I would make the little books in other shapes.
By Joanna Bergin5 years ago in Families
