Finding the Fun. Relearning to Play!!!

As children, we all play. Unfettered joyful purposeless play. It's an activity we prioritize above all. I remember spending the majority of the day, every day, immersed in trivial pursuits that never seemed trivial then. When did it change? When did I start packing my day with endless chores and responsibilities? When did play become something I could do once everything else was done? 


When we are little we make promises to ourselves that when we grow up things will be different. We will jump on the couch and bed whenever we feel like it. We will stay up late and play as long as we want. We will eat ice cream whenever we want. Then we grow up and suddenly we worry about being perfect. We have to be thin. We have to have a clean house. We have to have a successful career so we can buy stuff that we will never have time to use. We regulate our bedtimes and become slaves to routine. Play becomes the rare minority of our time. We start to forget our awe and wonder.


Having Skyler... seeing his pure enjoyment of the silly and fun... has prompted a sharp look into the dullness that is my present life. It's become, of late, a giant to-do list. All the promises I made to myself as a child have been broken. Even art, once a cherished playtime activity for me as a child, has become one of those endless chores for me. Another way that I can pressure and berate myself. That coupled with a complete lack of "fun" in my life has left me feeling empty and tense. Time for a change.


In my last post, I talked about my newest project.... the baby book. This has been a revelation for me; bringing back the fun, spontaneous side of my creativity. Thus "Bloopy and Needles" were born. These little stuffed thingys are essentially sketches in fabric... born of silly decisions and no real direction. They are the stuff of play and funny enough, they have even evoked the same childlike silliness in my husband. He has commandeered Bloopy for himself. He carries it around with him like I imagine he would as a five year old. He really loves it deeply, with that child that still resides with in him. 

This hopefully marks a beginning. The beginning of my adult childhood. Not the kind that shirks all responsibility and adult trappings... but a kind of balance. A return to play. I think I shall make it more of a priority... top on the to-do list. I think that I will paint my day with brighter colors, trim it with unfettered freedoms and add a bit of fluff and silliness to every artistic endeavor. I will try to honor those old promises.

Branching into the World of Fabric...

When I was young, my mother was an avid seamstress. I was constantly showered with handmade stuffed animals, unique dresses, and elaborate Halloween costumes that seemed to appear out of thin air. It was magic to a little girl. Even as I grew up, I would look in intimidated wonder at the complex tissue patterns, tools, and fabric cuts. It seemed like alchemy to an impatient young woman. Impossibly complex, mindbendingly foreign and seeming anything but fun, it was a language I could admire but would never want to learn.

Now that I have a son, the memories of those homemade gifts have actually prompted me to wonder if hell has officially frozen over. I am attempting the blasted alchemy. As his first birthday approaches, I have suddenly been filled with this desperate need to somehow embody this overwhelming love I feel for that amazing little boy in an appropriate gift. Instantly I was reminded of the soft book I had as a child. It was one of my favorite toys in my early years. Filled with buttons and zippers, flaps and snaps, it was very precious to me. But it was sewn. Oh crap. The dreaded sewing. 

So I am sewing. Oh and of course I couldn't be happy with time-tested established patterns. I just couldn't make Skyler a book that's already been made and save myself the trial and error process of an already new and intimidating learning experience. No... I am not that person. I am never happy until I am pulling out my hair and cursing the art in front of me.

For those of you that don't know me.... I am not that artist walking around with the bemused expression, exuding love and peace in light of my commune with art. I am not an artist by choice. I am an artist tortured by the need to create (usually far above my skill level)...all the while hating the process.... until it's over and there's suddenly a new little wonder in the world. Its akin to birth...(actually I think having Skyler was easier and more pleasant). I am the artist that exudes tension, energy, quirkiness...but in the end...I wouldn't want it any other way.

Anyway.... back to the sewing... ugh. So I ambitiously worked up six pages so far in Illustrator using the prints for patterns and I have begun. I have to admit that it's been somewhat fun....and for me that's something. All the years of watching my mother helped me learn a bit of the language a little faster than I think it normally would but it's still full of start overs and missteps. I have cursed a little and pulled out a little hair but for the most part... it's been interesting to take a detour from my usual painting. 

So here is my first page. It's the button page. The little girl's dress opens to reveal her stitched heart. It definitely came out much better than I should have had a right to hope for with my lack of skill. Of course, my inner critic could tear it apart but it seems surprisingly easy to ignore her when it comes to sewing. I wonder if that's because I never even considered it. This is play. It might also be that this is for Sky... and I know that he will only care that it's bright, fun, full of surprises, and texture. It might be that I'm just a little proud of myself and the little girl who finally learned a little magic.

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