Humble Pie

The Slate side of our family is artistic and creative. My Daddy grew up without the accoutrements of money, privilege or even much education. He and his seven siblings were happy to get a warm meal, much less art lessons. But the inventive roots were there and sprouted over time, despite the lack of early coaxing. When I was a child, I went to my cousin's house and saw a large mural that our MawMaw had free-hand drawn on her wall - a perfect cartoon of Popeye and Olive Oyl. In adulthood, my Uncle Bill figured out he was good at oil painting and became an amazing artist, particularly with portraiture. Then along came two of my aunts, who took up art lessons in their fifties with grand success. I still have a picture of a bodacious, glorious rooster in my house, painted by Aunt Ellen. Then you go to the grandchildren and great-grandchildren....there are artists, chefs, hair stylists, all manner of creatives being flung out in the world from this family. All four of my kids were born with it, some more than others, the ability and brain-quirk that makes them able to see beyond the obvious and to create things. I was born with it too, something I didn't train for... God-given and beyond explaining (but I can't seem to keep my laundry done). I think we all have something like this in our natures, whether it's obvious to the outside or not. There is giftedness in everyone that is planted there. I have a friend who can't walk a straight line but can whisk you away to Neverland with her poignant writing. Another can't write or sing, but when you sit down to tea with her, you feel wrapped in the glow of her kindness and her clean, warm, welcoming home. Still another has a cluttery, chaotic house but she can put your Ikea desk together in a heartbeat. I love God for that. 

These last few years have been hectic. I had a decorative painting business going back 30 years, with many adventures along the way. Murals, faux finishes, painted furniture -- and much of it hauling my homeschooled children with me. They'd spread out on the floor with their books while I painted, eventually becoming my helpers. Their unorthodox education has served them well, despite my flaky nature. They are creative, adaptive adults now, none of them antisocial or awkward (we were told that we were going to ruin their socialization, poor things).  

I got my real estate license in 2007, but the downturn nixed that idea, though I was able to continue the creative painting (along with plain ole residential painting).  I love the delicious smell and texture of paint, in whatever form it comes. Our daughter, Elizabeth, was my compadre when the boys were working construction in the summers and then getting married. She and I would suit up and she'd keep me focused while we painted high-end kitchens and baths. After college, she segued into Human Resources and I segued into real estate. It took over my life and there was not much juice left for the creative stuff, though it never left. My little studio out back is the grandkids' fun spot, but I haven't taken it seriously for myself in a long time.

I thought about going for an art degree at this late date, but then I have 13 grandchildren (with another on the way). Do I want to spend my days hunkered over books, because they're gonna expect me to fulfil my language requirement, a dumb math class and a random history prerequisite -- even before I get started on the art part? No! I ain't got time for that. I could just go out into my studio and draw or paint. I know how. But it seems that my depraved nature also includes the need for deadlines and accountability. So I did the thing -- I signed up for art classes with my teenage niece's teacher. It's only twenty minutes away, once a week, with a marvelous artist. She gave me homework on the very first day, so I'm working on drawing ten pictures of something attached to me - my hand. I have taught hundreds of children to draw in my lifetime, and I often started with yes, their hands. The ladies in the class, who don't know me from Adam, asked, "Have you ever drawn?" --and-- "Maybe your niece's talent will rub off on you!"  I swallowed my pride and said little. I'm always saying that God gave me this, so this is where the rubber meets the road. I will be the toddler and learn to walk, again.