art
Family-themed art is a look into one's living room; it depicts celebration, crises, and the quiet moments of familial interactions.
Rescuing the Crospey
“And what are you going to do with all this money, once it’s in your account?” Mia looked up expectantly. The money had been a surprise. My uncle Francesco, a school administrator in Haymill, had left me $20,000 in his will. I remembered, of course, having looked after his property after a fire had gutted his barn and partially damaged the farmhouse ten years ago after Aunt Maria had died. I came to love that farmhouse and the scraggly land with its dried riverbed. It had an unemphatic beauty, spare and unadorned flat ground, with willow oaks at the western perimeter and sweetgum and tulip poplars on the eastern. In the two months I had become close to Uncle Fran. Since then I had visited him at least once a year, the last two times with Mia, as our engagement ripened; I never expected to be in his will.
By Roger Lathbury5 years ago in Families
Memorable Gifts
Decorating the tree as a child was something to look forward to. Togetherness and memories always brought smiles and fun. It was fun for parents as well because it brought back fun times. The ornaments you had as a child, and all of the handmade ornaments you made. Those were special ornaments and families kept them because they meant so much.
By Melonie S Shelton5 years ago in Families
Remember that winter?
I was never a tattooed person. I didn't know what i wanted to do in my life. I never pictured myself as ''alternative'', even when i was bullied in high school for being an ''extraordinary introvert'' with my black clothes and my headphones always with me. The fact is that, like many and many people out there, i never had my group of friends and i felt like nobody every understood me completely. I always felt like an open book, surrounded by illiterates. (Pretty common, right?)
By Claire Mason5 years ago in Families
Bling Baby Bling. Third Place in Body Art Challenge.
It was March, 1996, in the suburbs of Seattle. The Coen Brothers’ film,“Fargo” had just opened in theaters. The first surface photos of Pluto, taken by the Hubble Space Telescope, were released. The toll-free (888)- area code had just been born. And my mother had made up her mind that she’d take eight-week-old-little-me to a tattoo shop—and get my ears pierced with real diamond earrings.
By Hailey McKennon5 years ago in Families
A Picture's Worth 1000 Words
My first tattoo, it's fair to say, was a mistake of epic proportions. I fell into the same trap as many before me and saw my wrist encumbered with the name of a lover, whose enchantment was already beginning to break.
By Clara Elizabeth Hamilton Orr Burns5 years ago in Families
Rainy Thoughts
You look out the window, and, not for the first time that day, thought about how wrong the weather forecast had been. “But then again,” you reason with yourself, “This is Missouri, and they hardly get the forecast right anyway. I should really stop putting so much stock into what the news anchors say.”
By Aimee Pieper6 years ago in Families
The importance of Art Workshops in a Summer Camp
Summer camps are an excellent way for your kids to spend part of their time off. Your children can forge new friendships, develop new interests, and become more independent. While conventional summer camps with outdoor trips, wilderness tours, and sleepover camps are a great option for younger kids, they are often not suitable. If you are looking for a good elementary summer program, how about enrolling your child in an art workshop? Here’s why we think art workshops are the best way to foster creative thinking in children:
By Andrew Hall6 years ago in Families
Seven Stories, One Easel
I am awoken by what sounds like 100 bees flying right next to my ear, as well as an irritatingly painful scratching on my chest. I slowly open my eyes and I see my brother, Douglas kneeling next to me, with his face intensely focused on my torso. I push him away saying something along the lines of, “What the fuck Doug!?” He giggles in his notorious, feminine-like giggle that he only let out when he was somewhere between nervous and humored. I realize he has a full tattoo kit next to him, and a tattoo needle hovering an inch above my bare chest. I slap the needle from his hand and repeat the words I had just said. “Check it out” he says with the enthusiasm a child has as their parents open up their Christmas gift. I run to the bathroom and lift my shirt. I am beyond speechless as I realize there is a tattoo on my chest. A real one, real fucking ink on my real fucking chest. I examine in more and see the beauty it actually withholds. Douglas was never artistic! What is going on!? There is a sailboat pushing its way through rough waters. It is a simple drawn sailboat with just a few geometric shapes to create it. The boat has ‘DMW’ inscribed in it, my brothers initials. The flag on the top of the boat is purple, the color of the overdose awareness ribbon. Around the decal is a quote, “I cannot control the wind, I can only adjust my sails.” That was my brothers favorite quote, he learned it during his 250-day stint in rehab and preached about its hidden meanings for months. I turned to look at him to ask him how the hell he did this to me, but he was gone.
By Chris Williams6 years ago in Families
