Taking down the Christmas tree

Every year I look forward to taking down the Christmas tree. My favorite part is wrapping the ornaments. I don’t get to see each as we hang them, and not all the stories get retold every year. Each has its own history: who made it or gifted it, which ones were handed down over years, or were made by my children. My favorite ornament when I was a child was a fragile glass icicle. I coveted it and was thrilled to choose it when my siblings and I divvied up the family ornaments years ago. I do not much like it now yet once upon a time, I cherished it above all others.

This year I noticed how many ornaments are handmade. I have ones I crocheted and embroidered, one that my sister needle pointed, ones she and I painted, and others that my grandmother and mother made. There is the cardboard tinfoil covered heart my husband made for me to top the little artificial Christmas tree he surprised me with for our first holiday together and the clothespin reindeer my daughter created.

What we carry from our past

I think a lot about how we choose the things we carry forward from our own histories and which family experiences and parents’ values I hold close that then find their way into my daily life and art practice:

- a love of reading

- an ever present curiosity

- the value of an aesthetically beautiful home

- using what is on hand

- confidence in using power tools

- maybe most importantly, the attitude and expectation that if I thought it up, I was capable of executing it myself.

Maybe my most important value is the attitude and expectation that if I thought it up, I was capable of executing it myself.

A life of learning

I remember my sister and I as teens, clad in bathing suits and standing on scaffolding, painting the house exterior; my father teaching me to wallpaper, my grandmother teaching me to crochet and my mother teaching me sewing and needlework. I recall days huddled with my sister in our “secret” forts, the exhilarating rush of competing with the neighborhood boys with a go cart made of wood we attached to metal roller skates, the crazily stitched-together costumes, magic shows and impromptu performances. I learned there was value in the hand made, and in the time, thought and work necessary for creation.

I don’t think twice about lighting a blowtorch, sawing or drilling wood, rusting, dying or stitching. When I contemplated creating a life size print on fragile gampi paper, I assumed I would figure it out and did so with the help from the amazing Christopher Shore of The Center for Contemporary Printmaking. While embroidering on paper and tea bags, or rusting and patinating metal, I follow my curiosity and the materials.

Powerful reminders

Personal history, my experiences and respect for the hand made flow through me into my work. I am not sure why I did not already notice the connections to my childhood. While growing up, I lived in an environment that was rich with artistic expression and encouragement, curiosity, invention, problem solving and the belief that I had the ability to create what I imagined in my mind. I will look at the ornaments differently now when I take them out each December. These simple decorations hold powerful reminders of the values I cherish.

Subscribe to receive email updates for new blog posts