As I worked in my studio a few days ago I was going through papers, sketchbooks, patterns, old jewelry, and magazines trying to come up with the inspiration and bits of quirk for The Turmoil Series I have been working on the past two years. I got sucked into a time warp and I found myself going through a box of The Saturday Evening Post from the 1970’s.
I try not to lick my fingers to turn the pages because I am afraid of all the nasty germs from being in dusty storage over the years. There are little spills here and there on the pages, they are 40 years old. I am mesmerized and intrigued by the stories, the advertising and artwork of Norman Rockwell. My heart aches a little as I read the stories and reminisce of time before digital media and technology.
Then as I finished the last page of one magazine and turn to the cover of the next, hot tears come to my eyes and roll down my cheeks. I read the address label. I realize that what I am holding in my hands, is what my parents held in their hands 40 years ago. The thumb smudges on the corners are my dad’s, not some stranger. The tagged pages are ideas that my mom loved or a story that touched her heart. These were seen through the eyes of my parents and now, 40 years later through my eyes.
I did not realize I had these. I thought they were thrown away when we cleaned out Mom and Dad’s house years ago. It seems like when I need an encouragement, a reminder that it will be okay or need an idea or hug, I get a little message from Mom and Dad. I get a little nudge of hope.
Technology is good for sharing stories, like this one, however, sharing what is real, what you feel and what you can hold in your hands and touch is something technology can never replace. Connect with the ones you have in your lives now and hold them in your heart and hands while you can.
Remain original. Be intuitive. Remain true to yourself and honor the feelings when they come. It might just lead you to the answer you have been searching for.
(PS: I hope you dance. Thanks mom.)