An Uncommon Life

This Incredible 4 year old artist is already demonstrating the competence of an adult. Someone posted this video on FB, and I wanted to pass it on.

I find child prodigies fascinating. There’s a lot of theories on how a prodigy is “created”, but when you think of people as being spiritual beings rather than “bodies” it isn’t hard to figure out.

My granddaughter Ada has been a hard-working artist since early toddler-hood. (She’s now almost 7) No one had to tell her to draw for hours to hone her skills. It’s just a part of her!

Another thing I feel strongly about is the importance of reading to young children. Some of my happiest childhood memories are having stories read to me. What a great way to explore other lives, countries and universes. Another great  way to open up one’s imagination.

I think all of us have an innate artistry, and if it can be encouraged and fostered from childhood, all the better. To me, creating has it all over learning your abcs and multiplication tables. (Not that kids shouldn’t do that too!) Since Ada is home-schooled, she has been learning at her own pace her entire life. She reads quite well, and has a vocabulary exceeding that of most adults!

And imagination? I have learned more  about “the fairy world” in the past few years than I had accumulated my entire lifetime.

Good thing I have Ada to learn from! (Yes, learning is definitely a two-way street.)

Practice listening to your children and grandchildren…they may teach you a few surprising things.

Grammy Merry Reads to Ada

I love this woman’s poetry! It recreates the moment, whatever moment that is,  so beautifully.

At The Coolidge Corner
Movie Theatre : 1956

The line is long.
The people standing by one, two’s and three’s
are young maniacs.
But anyone with 25-cents will be allowed in.
It’s the Saturday Matinee.

Ushers with flashlights are ignored
as we pile inside,
nearly assault the candy counter
and then carry cups of cola drinks and boxes of candy
down the aisle.
Pushing through the throng,
we fight for seats
in our favorite spot.

The theatre manager is no fool.
Our melee is silenced as the show begins –
it’s a  teaser.
Casper the Friendly Ghost and his bouncing ball
come dancing across the movie screen.
The sing-along is raucous and off-key.
We are primed for more, but the lights come on again.
Loud groans fill the space.
But we have to wait
while the projector is loaded once more.

Turning silly with waiting,
at least there are leftover ‘old maid’ corn kernels
from our popcorn boxes
to pelt into balcony.

Next we rip open the Cracker Jack boxes.
We are digging for
decoder rings
the world’s smallest book
or the best –
the ultra rare blue rubber Man From Mars.

Overhead lights flicker and
the heavy red curtain lifts.
Casper is back –
dancing in his ghostly nightgown one more time.
Any empty candy boxes that haven’t already been
ripped into shreds and thrown like confetti
become a chamber orchestra
of paper whistles and horns.

Finally,
before we turn into a completely uncontrollable mob,
the auditorium turns black
except for a pair of red exit signs glowing eerily.
We are about to be pacified with
Mighty Mouse,
The Roadrunner
and a Yosemite Sam cartoon
two black & white Movietone Newsreels
and a double feature.

Our eyes are glued to the screen.
But we are not silent.
For the next three hours
there is no doubt about which side
the audience is on.

Finally overhead lights explode their brilliance.
With emotions fully cranked
and bodies soggy with excitement
we exit into the singular indigo twilight of the northeast.

Walking down the street,
I am still licking my teeth to glean the last vestige
of sweet caramel and peanut flavoring.

And there is something else …
guided by the stars,
the space ship perfectly hidden in the woods beside the highway,
a tiny stranger is now resting deep in my pocket,
safe in my keeping.

It is understood that he must return to his home far far away.
In the meantime,
we are both calm and certain
in the knowledge that he can fulfill his task.
because he — the ultra rare Blue Rubber Man of Mars —
the first of his kind ever to reach our galaxy —
is going to deliver his message of friendship to me:
The Acknowledged Leader of Earth.

Leslie Silton/Poet

My daughter’s art is all over my house; not only in the lovely, humorous drawings and paintings that hang in almost every room, but in one of my favorite of Cedar’s creations : flames painted around a bathroom mirror. It is so tongue in cheek, full of fun and typically “Cedar.”

But this portrait of Ethel Barrymore is also typical- I have sketch books full of her delicately crafted pencil drawings. Many of them portray actors and actresses from the golden age of film-her favorite decades of the ’20s through the ’40s. Cedar taught me a lot about film and it evolved into a shared passion. The window she opened into the deco art and film of this period has been a lasting gift for my husband and me.

Cedar and I had a mutual fan club. I admired her art, she cheered on mine. Our relationship was not only mother and daughter, but one of peers. I was extraordinarily lucky to have been chosen to share her short life.

And I think I became a better artist for knowing and loving her.Regaining joy after her passing was made easier, surrounded by the lovely, funny and sensitive artwork she left behind. – Merry Rosenfield

Ethel Barrymore by Cedar Rosenfield

I have invited my Magic Zoo Jewelry customers to write a little essay about what their favorite Magic Zoo jewelry is, and why. I have been getting some super-creative answers, which has been fun for me, and generally encouraging in an artistic sort of way.

If you would like to participate, all you have to do is write a short (200 words or less) piece and submit it to my blog Pet People Talk.Winners get to choose a piece of Magic Zoo jewelry! My contest ends on Saturday, March 12 at midnight.

See you on Pet People Talk!

-Merry

Who says you have to be a great artist to draw? Although I make my living as a jewelry artist, drawing and painting have never been my forte. But then I discovered Comic Life software, and that changed everything! I revel in my new found ability to create silly comics, and  send them both to my jewelry customers and to entertain my oldest granddaughter!

I think this is a wonderful way to communicate visually, and recommend it to everyone. And if I can figure out how to use it, anyone can!

So get yourself some comic life software and do your thing!

Another incredible poem by Leslie Silton…

I cannot remember the exact moment I shifted
from Believing to Knowing.
I can hardly now imagine life before,
although I know it was one of endless warring,
and combat fueled with brute force,
my great sword shredding the air,
taking no prisoners.
It shocks me with amazement still
that I should ever seek resolution and peace instead.

Why can I not reconstruct now that exact sequence
in my mind
which replaced Believing
and brought me to Knowing?
As least I do remember the essence of it –
a decision as monumental
as a leap into thin air —
I was sure I would simply disappear
and yet
here I still am,
still am,
still …

Therefore do I lay down beside my sword,
peaceful and alive
on this first night on my consequential change
to sleep an honest sleep
and tomorrow to wake and breathe the air
I used to deconstruct.

This is one marvelous poem from my talented  friend Leslie Silton.

All Crows Are Not The Same

Why did I ever think that?
All crows are not the same.
Lined up on the outside railing,
it’s easy to see who’s who.

There’s a clever one
who knows how
to pick open the sugar packet with his beak –
and like that ambitious thief, leaves nothing behind.

Or the bird who inches toward a table
(attended still by unhurried diners)
and stares fixedly
at the almost detritus of bread and salad.

One would-be pilferer
feigns disinterest
but remains on station waiting …

Abruptly they disband into flight –
all except two:
the one who pretended he didn’t care
(and is about to reap the benefit
of human departure, a waiter straggling)
and the smallest of the errant flock
because this may be the only chance he gets
to eat
(at all).

Communication itself can be a creation dissolving in tears, broadening into  smiles or causing that best of sensations, belly-grabbing and painfully uncontrolled laughter.

I’ve found a new  friend through the magic of email. We have never met in person, but are strangely, and beautifully becoming best friends. Since both of us are creative, funny people-our communications are delightful and often strange. Leslie is a poet, an artist of great sensitivity and talent. I will have to ask her if I can stick some of her poetry up here; I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.

This is just a little acknowledgment of how life can present you with the darned best things, even when you had no idea they (or she) was out there.

My customer Cheryl C. makes teddy bears for family and friends. She tells me it is “just a craft” but I think she is being overly modest.  If you have sewn something with your very own hands, you can’t help but imbue your personality into that gift. She says:

“The only creativity is picking out the fabric, placement of eyes and ears and in some cases crocheting an outfit.  My mother taught my sister and me to sew and my aunt taught us to crochet.  As a wedding present I made my son and his wife bride and groom bears.  I spent more time, effort and worry on the bride bear’s dress and the groom bear’s tuxedo than I ever did on an outfit for myself.  My daughter-in-law’s mother displayed the bears at the wedding reception.  I was touched.”

Cheryl C.'s Jester Teddy

My daughter-in-law is a master (mistress?) of creating hand-made gifts. Most birthdays and holidays her mom and I are presented with a wonderful Diana-made creation that is not only beautiful, but one I LOVE. Last year it was handcrafted vanilla, peppermint and lemon extracts in funny little glass bottles. And for my last birthday she gave me reusable cloth bags with her own colorful designs stenciled on. (No pressure, Diana. But the holidays are approaching.)

Have fun with your own creative talent this Holiday Season. To me, there’s nothing like a hand-crafted gift.

My daughter was born on October 4, 1981 and passed away 20 years later on October 30th, 2001. Yet I am still drawn to Autumn in my heart. 

I recently returned from a work trip to Georgia, where deciduous trees were wearing a promise, really just a blush of Autumn. This is the first year in many that I will have missed a full-blown autumn; most years we’ve had an art show further North, and I’ve been able to drink in the colors and scents of this month for a few days.

Long about February, our Virginia creeper vines here in Florida will turn red, but by then it’s too late for me.

I dream about a mountain home someday,  living beneath and surrounded by a riot of autumn, the crowning glory of planetary beauty on Earth. In my opinion, anyway.