Becoming artwork when I expire…
- Oct, 12 2009
- By admin
- My Life, Home & Studio, Thoughts
- 2 comments
Last night, my husband and I had a much-needed “Veg Fest.” If you know us well, you know we work hard and play hard, but rarely just veg! So we caught some of a new TV series called “Three Rivers.” It’s on CBS, and it focuses on a medical team that harvests organs from gracious donors who have passed, and find “homes” for them in very sick and needy patients, some of whom have been waiting for a long time. I enjoyed it, and it sparked some discussion between Nate and I.
I’ve had the organ donor box checked on my driver’s license since I was 16, and I’ve always thought I wanted everything possible to be donated except for my skin and eyes. Many people don’t even know that these can be donated, and I’ve kind of thought of it as “icky.” However, donating these organs would make a world of difference in the lives of a blind person or burn victim, so I’ve given it some more thought. Now, if you’re on top of things, you’re realizing that this extensive donation could make for an unsightly open casket. Enter my next preference: cremation.
Now, before you start thinking this will be a morbid blog post, be assured that you’re probably going to laugh very soon 
.
Cremation… the alternative to slowly becoming worm food over the course of many years. I’m rather fond of it. But, what do your loved ones DO with your remains? There’s the sprinkling into the ocean, off of a mountainside, and resting in the somewhat typical urn on the mantle which could be creepy for your home’s visitors or housekeeper.
I want something different. I am an artist. When I die and become ashes, I’d like to become art. (What?)
From culinary school to an art career: How a closed door changed the course of my life.
- Jan, 02 2009
- By admin
- My Life, Home & Studio
- 2 comments
“Have you always wanted to be an artist?”
This is the most common question I get at art shows or when people see my work for the first time. It’s funny, because one would think that I had dreamed about this career from childhood. It’s simply not the case.
You see, I had never met a successful artist. I grew up with the assumption that creating art was fun, and it was just something to do in your spare time, or after retirement… seriously. It didn’t stop me from loving the creative process, however. I colored with the best of them. I made art supplies out of the most random items, and it was always pure joy.
In middle and high school, I turned a great deal of my attention to the kitchen. I would come home, change into comfortable clothes, and go help Mom with whatever she was preparing. I didn’t care what we were making, but I wanted to be in the middle of it. Soon I began believing that I wanted to be a bread and pastry chef for a living, and my parents and I began touring culinary institutes.. I was all set! Now, just to graduate..
I’ve heard that God shuts doors and opens windows. I’ve always thought that was a pretty cheesy concept, but my senior year I got to experience it first-hand. It turns out that they don’t allow 17-year olds into culinary school. It’s something about sharp knives and hot ovens I’m sure… I got this jolt of reality as I neared graduation. It seemed clear that I would have to put off becoming a chef at least for a time. Not to be discouraged, I began looking for a way to amuse myself for a year, and decided on attending “regular” college. A school I wasn’t even interested in attending offered me a full scholarship. This scared me into trying for a full scholarship where I actually wanted to attend (Union University). I had only a week to get the ACT score I needed to even be considered for a full scholarship there, and it turns out they had a final residual test I could take ASAP.