Patti Edmon Altered Attic: May 2009

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Home Sweet Home tag book

Evie Zaccardelli hosted the Home Sweet Home tag swap and it's now posted on the Art-e-Zine site. Click on the link and take a look at the really cool tags created by awesome artists!

Friday, May 22, 2009

Home Sweet Home

I haven't done many swaps, let alone tag swaps, so when this opportunity came along on Art-e-Zine Cafe, I decided to join, not giving any thought to the fact that I'd get stumped. But getting stuck is a good thing because it forces the kind of problem solving that our brains usually slough off. Part of being an artist (heck, part of life) is entering new territory, not knowing what to do and finding a workable solution. 
I realize they aren't major works of art, but I like the way they turned out (I did the back sides too and made 6, duplicated one of them due to time constraints), I think they're cute. Whether or not they convey the Home Sweet Home theme intended is another question. It was fun finding photos I had taken (except for the sofa) and working with as many materials as I possibly could - acrylics, pastels, wholey paper, stamps, gaffer tape, rub-ons, charcoal... I should receive my tag book in the next week or so.
Whether you're traveling this week-end or staying close to your home sweet home, I hope your Memorial Day weekend is creative, relaxing, enjoyable... whatever you want it to be! 

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Let's Fly

I made this 6x6 collage for a class I'm taking called Resilience Through Art, taught by Lani Gerity, art therapist, leader of the 14 Secrets for a Happy Artist's Life group I'm in and a wise, wonderful artist. Our challenge for the week was to create a piece of art based on a resilience strategy; mine addresses more than one - voice your wishes, take charge of life whenever you can, look for good things...
Living with a chronic illness has a unique set of challenges, maybe the same ones everyone faces, just amplified a bit. Springtime is so beautiful, but for me, it brings barometric pressure fluctuations that yank me around like a theme park ride. And I'm really trying to get off the prednisone that has fueled me through the last four years. Lower energy and higher pain levels make every day daunting... I think about what I used to accomplish in a day's time, now  spread it over a week, and shake my head. Well, nobody likes a whiner and I'm not wallowing in self-pity, but every now and then I feel the need to bring it up; it's a huge part of my life and I've heard from so many others who face the same issues on a daily basis; it helps to have someone you can relate to. So, if one person reads this and nods in acknowledgment I'll be happy.
Art is universal, so I hope the collage stands on its own as a piece of art. It was very gratifying to make, from color choice (thanks Pam:) to finding images that expressed the right message along with supporting elements. I had fun in the Altered Attic, played and enjoyed the process and I'm happy with the results. I think the resilience strategy best expressed is: look for the good wherever possible.  The birds might not be flying but at least they are out of the cage.

Thursday, May 14, 2009


the petals stun, their
red so bold and deep, a promise
of radiant spring

Monday, May 11, 2009

Happy Mother's Day

My best friend and her daughter made these delightful, amazingly cool hair clips, which they plan to sell in an Etsy shop soon. They gave my daughter and I one before they left our house last Wednesday; right now they are on the final leg of their journey to Berkeley, where Karen has lived for two years. Karen has been my best friend for years - many, many years, since we were the age my daughter is now, eleven years old. The stories and adventures we've accumulated over the years could fill many a volume. It has been very difficult to live so far apart and saying "see you next time" hasn't gotten any easier.
Karen came to Kentucky to retrieve her 20-year old daughter, Marina, who had been staying with us since the first of April after deciding, wisely, to start a new chapter in her life. Karen and I spent a wonderful week together before they packed up the car and set off for what has been a thankfully calm, albeit very scenic adventure. I log on to Facebook in the mornings and evenings to check their day's progress, the comments about the flatness of Kansas, the stunning beauty of Wyoming... Marina's journey involved ending of a long relationship, which proved very difficult for her. That I was able to be here for her in Karen's place speaks volumes about the depth and nature of our friendship.
Soon after we met we were fairly inseparable and when we were teenagers, Karen would escape the (fairly routine) troubles at her house and wind up at mine, often sitting at the kitchen table with my mother, who always knew the right things to say. I always wondered how she did that. How had she become so wise, so empathetic, so understanding.

Looking back I have to laugh knowing that for every comment, each jewel of hard-earned wisdom I noticed there were dozens that I never even knew to consider. Like, how did she raise four children married to my Dad, whose career dominated his life and took him to points around the world on a regular basis. They were only 19 when they married, living on their own in Washington, DC, working for the government, my Dad for the Department of Physical Security (he was a safecracker) and my mother for the Federal Bureau of Engraving. To say they've weathered a few storms is to put it mildly, although no marriage can stay strong for 55+ years without navigating shifting weather patterns. I grew up in a nice, suburban home in upstate New York, and though she had help when we were young, I never considered how my mother managed the logistics, the enormous amount of work and challenges of daily life. I have two children and a 'modern' husband (he participates:) and when I get overwhelmed I remember the carefree days of childhood, well not carefree, just free of responsibility, the knowing that dinner would be ready, clothes would be clean, and so on; if you're a parent or running a household you know the list is long. And she did it all without a mother of her own. My grandmother died when my mom was just 7 years old, from an infection that these days antibiotics would knock out in no time.  At twenty years old, my mother had taken on more responsibility than I'd have ever dared. She has fairly incredible, some hilarious, stories about learning to cook and keep house, which was a tiny apartment where my older sister was born a year later. 

I often marvel at the creativity she applied to every day life and the sheer volume of all she did: she sewed Halloween costumes and Easter dresses, crocheted blankets and made strawberry jam and homemade bread, she made clothes for our dolls, baked cakes and maintained a clean house and an enviable garden. She always loved to read but never had significant time to pursue an avocation, the way I've dedicated time to writing and art. Are my children suffering because I'm in the art studio instead of the kitchen? Or because I don't iron and socks are often paired from the basket in the hallway five minutes before they leave for school? I used to feel guilty every time I sought my mother's advice, knowing she managed without having anyone to ask the best way to cook a pork roast, myriad parenting questions, just what does get gum out of freshly dried jeans.
But she supports me, wholeheartedly, and always has, in every endeavor I've pursued. Having waited until late in life to become a parent I've often felt like I was living two lives at once, before I got the arthritis that has slowed me down, some days to a crawl. And, wouldn't you know, my mother cooks dinner for us once a week. Every Friday, Dad shows up after his lunch with the boys, bearing meat loaf, enchiladas, chicken soup, chili, and always enough to last the weekend. She has a bad back and endures chronic pain and like me, has many days when energy flags. But she cooks anyway, knowing full well that I'm spending a generous share of my energy creating; she understands that making art, writing, photography, taking workshops, is what keeps me sane, what I refer to as my lemonade. 

If it weren't for Mom and my in-laws (and dh, of course) this blog certainly wouldn't exist. And would the world miss out? Am I making an impact on anyone's life but my own? That's well worth pondering, but it doesn't take much thought to see what a difference she makes in my life. On Facebook yesterday I wished a Happy Mother's Day to friends and wrote that I'm the luckiest mom in the world; come to think of it, I just might the luckiest daughter too.

My beautiful mother, Alice, in an undated photo, when she was in her early to mid thirties.


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