I haven’t attempted any haiku writing for many a moon. But I thought I would try my hand. This one was written with a grieving pet owner in mind. But I reckon it would apply to missing anyone who has passed away:
Our lives together
Like a rainbow’s sudden joy
Always remembered
Come on, who else has a haiku to share? I know you do, Laura!
Animals and creativity. They have been been intertwined in my life for such a long time now.
This past spring I designed about 70 new jewelry pieces, frustratingly not yet on my website! (That is a story in itself; but the very thought of putting it down to share is too exhausting.) 
Endowing a lump of grey clay with the personality and form of a hippopotamus, a Chinese Crested dog or a cat has a special satisfaction for me. And viewing the sterling silver cast pieces for the first time is magical. Never fails. It’ s Christmas morning feeling I get to enjoy several times a year.
To me, being an artist is like wearing a sparkly, every-changing but gossamer coat. I get to write, make animal jewelry and create fairy stories for my granddaughters. So far, only one of those activities makes me any money, but strangely enough, they all seem of equal importance. – Merry
This is the best part about grandmothering a 6 year old. We co-create stories.
Actually, Ada is constantly making up stories. And I do not exaggerate. I tune in when I can, but if she is spending half a day with me, her talking often proceeds without an audience. I feel a little guilty about that, but she doesn’t seem to mind. I can jump into her free-form story-telling and add a detail here or an opinion there pretty seamlessly.
Ada and Annabelle
Lately we have been discussing the habits of her new fairy friend, Oakley. Oakley is absolutely a co-creation. When I made Ada’s fairy doll a few weeks ago (see my earlier post) I wanted to create a little myth around her. So we have been discussing the fairy that travels from oak tree to oak tree and wears a sparkly sleeveless dress (my sewing abilities are rather primitive, and I am trying to avoid an “incident” when I present Oakley on Ada’s birthday. “Grammy,she doesn’t have any sleeves!”).
Ada tells me Oakley has many different items of clothing, only one of which is sleeveless and sparkly. She also told me about another species of fairy that shares the oak tree life. I think they are called “pea-nuckles,” but I can’t be certain.
Ada will one day be 12 or 13. I doubt our story telling will continue that long. But luckily there is Annabelle, and I am quite sure more of her kind will follow.
Do you have children or grandchildren in your life? What are some of your stories?
Creating something out of nothing – isn’t that the best thing about being an artist? Popping out of bed with a new project in mind, something that will take up half a day and involve nothing but creation. Just like magic, out of whole cloth. It might be a new jewelry design, a blog post or a comic book. (Yes, I do write comics. They are occasional and involve the more absurd and laughable of my life experiences.)
Or a fairy doll. That was a fun one. Or this little cat family that I made for a customer. 
I’m not that crazy about cooking, but once in a while I invent a new recipe that is truly delicious. Or I “improve” on an old favorite.
I am also an unreformed doodler. Especially during boring phone conversations. Heaven help the man or woman on the cover of a Creative Loafing newspaper. Yesterday a local politician became a transvestite devil, with horns, a 1950s hairdo and several warts above his painted lips.
So many ways to create. Some of it is just spent in reflection, where it usually begins.
Fess up and tell me about your creations! – Merry
Two weeks ago my (almost) six year old granddaughter said “Grammy, will you make me a stuffed fairy doll for my birthday?” She gave me the specifications, which I wrote down.
I was hesitant. “I would love to, Sweetie, but I am pretty busy.” 
“Allright.” She took it in good grace.
Ada, I should mention, is an artist. That means she is very capable of turning illusions into reality. Thus, despite my initial hesitation, I found myself mulling over the task. Magically, during our recent jewelry show in Atlanta, our hotel was two blocks from both a fabric store and a Michael’s. All the stars were aligning for the fairy’s emergence, and I spent an hour sorting through fabrics and making purchases.
Last weekend I drew a pattern and cut out the body, arms and legs. I drew on a face and traced it with my embroidery thread and needle. This weekend I planned only to sew and stuff the body parts, but got carried away and made the entire thing. Oakley the Fairy charmed her way into existence. Ada’s illusion became mine, and similar to Pinocchio’s transformation into a real boy, muslin, gold cloth embroidery thread and yarn became a real….Fairy.
How important is communication to an artist?
I can say with some certainty that if you are making a living as an artist, then you are definitely communicating. The art you produce, no matter its form, is delivering a message to an audience. If the message is understood and enjoyed, then you will be rewarded.
Joan Miró, La Leçon de Ski, 1966, Sofia Imber Contemporary Art Museum of Caracas, Venezuela
One of my favorite painters is the Spanish artist Joan Miró. I can’t really explain what he is communicating, but his work has a rhythm and design sense that has always made me happy. For me it is a communication at an emotional level.
If an artist’s message is difficult to understand, or unpleasant to view, hear or read then it may be more difficult to find an audience. Of course this may not always be true. For instance, I personally find Quentin Tarantino’s movies deeply disturbing, yet he has a passionate following. And he is undoubtedly an artist; his film making is extraordinary.
Does anyone have a theory to explain this?
Psychiatry and the pharmaceuticals they recommend to treat ADHD, ADD, depression and other mental health issues should be of concern to the parents of gifted children. It has been said (and from my own experience, I agree most heartily) that a gifted youngster often has trouble sitting still in a class room. He or she may be a bit dreamy and uninterested in memorizing the multiplication tables. She might doodle rather than be willing to listen to a lecture that has nothing to do with her own purposes and goals. To a teacher who has been won over to the dark side (psychiatry) these are symptoms of mental illness! 
Having raised two gifted children, and having been so labeled myself as a girl, I want to warn parents from a position of some familiarity with the above behavior. I am speaking as a mother and a grandmother. Please do not take the advice of teachers who recommend your child be seen by a psychiatrist for evaluation and possible drugging. Please make sure your gifted child is protected from damage from psychiatric drugging. Home school them if you must, or at least find a school for them that understands young artists and is willing to work with their unique abilities and ways of learning.
I cannot separate my daughter’s passionate nature from her art, because that is the way she meant to change the world. She had a burning purpose to uplift society, to send it rocketing skyward from its plunging and dwindling spiral down. She believed that artists were the ones to get that job done.
When Cedar died, I felt the world had lost a great crusader for change. I guess most of us have endless hope invested in our children’s potential. I had it in droves.
Cedar was not only immensely talented, but had an incredibly strong purpose to use her gifts to help. In her twenty years, she did a damned good job.
What effect did she go for, above all others? Laughter. Belly-achingly, unstoppable “guffawing until you” cry laughter. She thought there was too much sorrow and seriousness all around. Much of her art, and most everything she wrote was funny. Her heroes were Buster Keaton, Charlie Chaplin and Laurel & Hardy.
Cedar had her private sorrows, but laughter was the antidote she prescribed for herself and life in general. It’s what I try to remember when things get to feeling awfully serious, which seems easy these days. Cedar died before the economy took its plunge and the great oil leak began creating havoc with some of the gulf shoreline. She would have been concerned with today’s events, of course. But she still would have recommended a good belly laugh to balance things out.
Daydreaming may be a forgotten art. What happened to lazing around on a Saturday morning in bed, letting your mind peacefully wander far away? Or stretching out by the river, your fishing pole just a prop while you “travel” to other realms? 
It is difficult when our lives are jammed with activity, most of which are perfectly necessary and legitimate. But I have noticed something interesting. Whenever I am creating (which happens with some regularity, out of necessity in my profession) I “space out” for a few minutes, and stare out the studio window.
Not for long. Sometimes just a few quiet seconds allows a creative bubble to work its way to the surface. It doesn’t involve effort at all. More a state of just “being.”
I think everyone can develop this technique. I think it is built into our nature, and obscured by all the visual and attention stealing noise in the environment.
Try retreating for a few moments and visit your creative side. Then let me know how it went! – Merry
I think of all children as being gifted. Maybe I am naive, but I cannot look at a baby and imagine anything but a life of creation for that child.
Tooks the Mushroom Fairy
It has been said that children’s art is some of the best and most creative. I have studio walls covered top to bottom with my granddaughter’s drawings. I don’t display them just to make her feel good. I tape them to my walls because seeing them make me feel good. How could you NOT smile at this rendition of Tooks, the Mushroom Fairy? (by Ada Rosenfield)
So how do you raise a gifted child? I am not an “expert”, but having raised a couple of artists myself, I do have some opinions:
Seeing a parent pursue his or her artistic goals creates a strong reality that it can be done. What would you love to create? A child is like a sponge, soaking up the joy of creation that surrounds him. Of course, he will soak up heartbreak and cruelty as well. We can choose quite a bit of what our little sponges absorb.-Merry
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