Obsession seems a bit extreme doesn't it? Well truth be told, it is probably an accurate description of my love for all things crafty. At a young age I became aware that my family was more creative than most. My Grandpa, once a world renowned leather carver, started his own wood working company out of his basement and with him being my primary babysitter, I got thrown into the mix early on.
My "very important" jobs were always something to look forward to after school. I was quite a pro at priming and base coating by the time I graduated elementary school. As I proved myself in the sawdust covered basement I was gradually given more detailed jobs and quickly learned my way around the different stations. From spray painting to staining and sanding to engraving, I did it all. Weekends were more often than not spent doing the craft show circuit. There are actually pictures of me curled up under tables napping while people are browsing handmade goods on the other side of the tablecloth.
Aside from Grandpa's tutelage, my Grandma also took me under her wing and taught me her tricks of the trade. Divorced yet business partners with my Grandpa, Grandma worked on what she could at her house but she secretly (well maybe not) had her own crafting outlets. It was there that I learned more detailed painting techniques and began helping her with ceramic projects.
That's a lot of creativity for one family you say? Well, that's not all. Let's not forget about my mom, who began Christmas crafting in early June. Our living room was covered with dried flowers, evergreen wreaths, hot glue guns and ribbons every evening for months. And I loved it. As I got older, I was allowed to experiment and make my own creations to sell at her work craft show. Eucalyptus swags, popori topiary trees and cinnamon stick Santas (you know, the typical 90's craft show stars) were typically on display awaiting tweaks and tucks.
Yet it is said that all good things come to an end...and in a way they did. A freak accident (that I witnessed I might add) with a table saw landed Grandpa with three missing fingers and his dusty basement workroom soon became covered in cobwebs. A few years later, sadly, Grandma passed away. What about my mom? Well, she still has tubs and tubs of dried flowers (probably the same ones) and hundreds of yards of ribbon just waiting to be turned into an outdated Holiday decoration. On occasion I raid her stash and find something that can be used for something. Over the years I have urged her to pull out her bins and start making something, anything again but for what ever reason, she has lost all ambition for it.
As I entered my teenage years I began to experiment with different things....err, different creative things. For a brief time I just knew I was going to be a fashion designer until I realized I had no sewing skills what so ever (don't judge, I still don't). After that I believe it was abstract art that caught my attention. By that I mean I liked to smear random things on cardboard (hey, canvas was expensive) and call it art. Normally it was cheap nail polish and melted crayons. I did take pleasure in writing and often found myself published in youth magazines and competed several poetry competitions.
High school proved to be a breading ground for my inner artist to finally emerge full force. My school, surprisingly for a small town, had a great arts department and I took every class that was offered to me. From sketching to still life, pottery, crocheting, mixed media and jewelry making; I dove in head first. Aside from all that I continued writing and made my way to editor of the newspaper by my junior year and took journalism classes at MSU during the summer.
It would seem that my career path was decided right? Wrong. I decided I wasn't going to go to college for Journalism. Hell, I didn't want to go to college at all. So what did I do? I moved out, fell in love and did absolutely nothing but work and fight with my "love" for the next few years. Finally I pulled my head out of my ass and decided I needed to get serious about my future. I had pretty much given up any sort of crafting, all I did for an outlet was decorate my apartment. That was it! Interior design! I was hooked! I ordered everything off the Internet and jumped into the online classes with a new found passion. I LOVED it. And then I went broke. Yup, lost my job and could no longer afford to pay for my monthly work assignments.
Well that was almost 7 years ago and you may ask what I have been doing until now. My love for interior design did not diminish when my studies did. In fact, it grew stronger. Not only did I understand color and texture and lighting more, I learned how to use my knowledge to create things that worked in my budget (which was pretty much nothing). Every place I have lived in over the years has had my stamp put on it. I also started bargain shopping and regularly browsed thrift shops looking for things I could "do something with". Every weekend during the summer my mom and I spend yard saling (even my four year old looks forward to it). My spare room has become a dumping ground for my weekly finds. Things just waiting to be brought to life again, to be repurposed into something beautiful.
So after all that confessing of my history, I come to the point...I have spent my entire life being surrounded by creative people, I have tried to find my place in the artistic community and I have have been let down time and again by my lack of funds to support my love for pretty, unique things. Today with the Pinterest and blogging era it is possible for anyone to be a crafter or DIY warrior and I think it is fantastic. And here I am joining the bandwagon, setting up a blog to share my ideas and hopefully give inspiration. There is no need for a huge budget to make a beautiful home, the best gifts can be homemade and you can create memories with your children over paper and glue. That is my goal and I hope you enjoy!
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