The Art of Craft

A million years ago, in another life time, I dated an artist.  He was really an Artist, not an artist, to be honest.  He had a deep talent for almost all mediums, but mostly for oil painting.  Unfortunately, the well of his creativity  did not seem to rise high enough to leak under the basement door of  his mother’s house and out into the world.  I dated him for almost two years, and only once did he give me a hand-made gift… a funny cartoon card done in water colors  for my birthday.    He said nothing he did was good enough for a gift.

I meet a lot of true Artists who hide their talent like that.  They have fabulous paintings, beautiful needlework, fantastic photography or breath-taking hand crafted furniture around their homes.   When asked, they are modest.  It’s got an imperfection here, you see? They might talk about it among close friends, or maybe on-line, but for the most part, their talents are hidden from the world.

Crafters are, on the whole, a different bunch.  They seem to flit  from one “art of the moment” to the next.   They have a room full of puffy paint tubes, glitter spray, bedazzlers, needle craft items, beads,  felt, pom-poms, wreaths, fabric, yarn and the holy grail of Crafters, The Glue Gun.  They talk about it.  They have forums and groups that meet on alternate Wednesdays.  They have whole fairs dedicated just to them.  I think a lot of crafters are like myself… artists with a small “a”.   The Art is in the Heart but not in the Hands.   It’s so easy to cross the line from “folk art” to ticky tacky kitsch of the moment.

Yesterday, I brought up the Christmas decorations.   Aldo says I am not very organized, but I disagree.  At least when it comes to Christmas decorations.  I have all of the things  in neat boxes, labeled clearly with a black Sharpie.  “Small Lights!” proclaims one.  “Big Lights” says another… although I am not sure why I ever felt Small Lights needed an exclamation and Big Lights did not.  Perhaps I felt Big Lights was an exclamatory statement all on its own.  But I digress…

I brought up Small Lights! and Garland, Stockings & Unbreakable Ornaments.   I hung up some Small Lights! and garland,  and that is where I stopped.   Under the stockings and coils of glittery garland are a few cigar boxes.  The  flip top boxes of unbreakable ornaments hold more than the faint smell of Aldo’s grandfather’s cigars.   When I opened the first box, I cried.

Nan’s pom-pom doves holding  tiny olive branches and Gramma’s beaded gold and silver bells with  little tiny beaded clappers inside greeted me.  Clothespin reindeer cuddled up with felt elves.  Cross stitched Santas and lace angels peeked around miniature green and red bead wreaths and hand tatted cotton  snow flakes.   Some of these were Crafts of the Moment, some were things these ladies had true talent for.  Gramma’s bead work and Nan’s tatting were always perfect, highly detailed miniature works of art.   I never thought these little keepsakes would be such a strong reminder of what has been lost.

So, I cried and put them back in the box.   I will put them on the tree this weekend and try to rejoice in the love that went into each item, but for right now it’s too much.  I will finish the set of snowmen ornaments I am making to give with each gift and hope that one day years from now they will bring someone a flood of happy memories and the reminder that I loved them.

And, just for the record, I do not own a glue gun.

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