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EL and I were at the bookstore this past weekend... She's been channeling one her great grandmothers and has been crocheting with impossibly small hooks and spiderweb-thin thread. She was looking for books on the topic. I was perusing the other "how-to" books in the area, although most of them usually irk me because they start at step 1. No, they usually start before step 1... they start somewhere along the lines of, "Here's an idea for you because you'll never come up with your own, and then we'll tell you exactly how to do it so it will look exactly like this..." I know there's a need for those books, but they rankle me. They need a section of books that says, "Use anything for anything, even if you're not supposed to... Go nuts!" :)
Anyhow, while skimming their other offerings, I came upon this book. I was intrigued. Yes, it had too many instructions, but what I liked were the images. The images reminded me of long ago. My sister and I used to make endless troll houses by stacking shoe boxes and Kleenex boxes... we'd wallpaper them, build furniture, used found items and repurposed them. I think we usually only played with them for a few days, the real joy was in the making of them.This was preceded by the joy that came from realizing it was again, troll house time!
This also reminded me of one of my favorite grammar school assignments. When in the 5th grade, we were to read a book and then do a report... but the fun part was we also had a to do a diorama of sorts. We were each given a cigar box which we were to make look like the book, when you held the box as you would a book, you opened it to find a small report glued to the inside flap, and then a 3-D scene in the main compartment of the box. I LOVED THAT ASSIGNMENT! I wish I still had the box. I still have the book I used though...
Seeing the mixed media dollhouse book, and thinking back to the joy of troll house construction made me think once again of my dream studio... In my ideal world of creation, my studio would be a huge room with lots of table space, easel space, drawing table space, lots of shelf/cabinet space... sinks, wonderful lighting, perfectly comfy and supportive chairs...Yeah, I know, all of you are thinking, yeah, so... all of this is totally possible! So what? Well here's where it takes a turn, in my ideal studio space, there would also be large "closets" that held smaller versions of Home Despot, Dick Blick's, Michael's, and an awesome second hand store with a multitude of "found items". They would be solely for my use, or whomever was in the space... no bothers with driving to the store, cashiers, other customers, needing to make a list... no, you could just go in and grab what you needed and pop back out.
Also included in this dream studio space? The ability to stop time. Once you stepped in... you could stay for as long as you liked and no time would pass! Once you stepped back out into the "real world", it would be 2 seconds later!!! Phone calls would wait, interruptions would wait!
Other things I'd have in my ideal studio space?? A branch. Many years ago, my mother informed me that one of my favorite childhood trees was hit by lightning and the bottom branch was going to have to be removed. I remembered that branch, I knew that branch... it was the first one you grabbed as you swung your legs up to hoist yourself around in order to climb. It was also the last branch you touched when coming down. It was sturdy and reliable. That branch was a step to another world, to freedom, to invisibility! I asked if I could have it so I could mount it in my apartment. I was bummed to find out it had grown significantly since I had last embraced it... still, I still have the desire for a large branch in my studio... or better yet, maybe a tree! One you could climb or hang a swing from! Yes, I'd like that... a tree and a swing.
I would also like music, and music that was exactly what I needed at the time, even if I didn't even know the song or the artist yet. I'd like that...
And the last thing, but certainly not the least important... I'd like to be able to take my imagination out where I can see it and talk to it. I'd like to meet it again, on its own terms, not mine. I'd like to let it out to run around. At some point, I think I turned my wild mustang of an imagination into a trick pony. Sure, it can still do impressive things, but it needs freedom. It needs to be in charge, not me. It should dictate, while I take notes, not the other way around. Yes, in this room, there'd be pure freedom with no preconceived ideas of what a creation should be or of its reception. Before entering this room, my imagination would dislodge the creative hairball that years of behavioral training had made... it, and I, would be free...
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