glean 1. To go over a harvested field and gather by hand any usable parts of the crop that remain   2. To collect information in small amounts over a period of time

gleanings 1. Usable parts of a crop that are left behind in a harvested field and can be gathered in by hand   2. Objects or ideas that have been gathered or amassed over a period of time, especially when they form a collection or comprehensive whole

Ever throw out a tattered dress or shirt with the buttons still on? Or a pair of pants with a “perfectly good” zipper? (Brief audio flashback to my grandmother’s voice.)

Gleanings. There was a time, not so long ago in our history, when those buttons would have been cut off that dress or shirt and any fabric that could be restored to favor got salvaged into great grandma’s next quilt. And lets not forget the rest of the scraps that found favor as rags for household chores.

Leave it to an ephemera junkie to think about gleaning as she sorts through bags of 100 year old buttons and snaps and hooks and eyes  oh my! on a Sunday afternoon.

Gleanings. Clipped off tattered clothing and passed from Ray’s grandmother’s hands to his mother’s to mine.

“What’s the difference between gleaning and hoarding?” I wonder out loud, as I separate buttons into glass jars.

“Purpose.” Responds my right-brained husband, as he prepares a gleaned canvas for his next painting.

Sigh of relief. Well, then that makes us gleaners.

Gleaners. Wait! There’s no such word in either of our dictionaries. Even endangered species get a mention in Webster’s.

Perhaps “gleaners” are part of an invisible culture – a secret, shameful culture spoken of in hushed tones – and gleaning an invisible tradition. I mean, where there is gleaning there is evidence of waste first – and needful purpose second. I remember hearing once that gleaning was outlawed. Was that somewhere in Europe? And, today, many farmers are no longer allowed to gather and save their seeds unless they wish to be sued. (Patents, you know. Kind of makes you want to hoard doesn’t it?)

Oh, and by the way, where gleaning is purpose-generated, hoarding is fear-generated. It is a fine line one crosses over between the two but that is for another post when I am wearing my professional clutter clearing helmet. Right now, I am wearing my artist’s beret.

Then there is gleaning as it relates to definition two and the gathering of information and ideas and beliefs and experience and wisdom …

As I look at this shot of Ray at the canvas, through his grandmother’s gleanings, I can’t help but think about how proud she would be of him and what he has gleaned from all of his life experience and how he forms that into a purposeful, “comprehensive whole.”

And I can’t help but wonder if she will forgive me my impracticality, as my purpose for these buttons is an artistic one. Providing closure of a re-fashioned kind. Artists make great gleaners, by the way. “They drag some of the strangest things home.” says she, in a hushed tone.

Pssst. Any gleaners out there with stories to share? This is the place where your talent and vision for utilizing the un-utilized will be applauded and appreciated!

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“I toss and turn all night, awash in a sea of aquamarine and green, streaked with silver phosphorescence, drifting through the velvet night from a necklace of meteors. I raft down a river of paint, but unlike Huck Finn, my oar is a paintbrush that struggles to free me from whirlpools of cerulean blue. Then day breaks, and I trudge through a black-and-white world in sensible shoes …” • Loretta Benedetto Marvel from Mermaid Nets and Other Twice-Told Tales

Loretta and I– along with some Vikings, a mermaid, a couple of muses and a curious kitty – shared coffee after I finished writing in my journal this morning.

As some of you know, 2011 is pushing me to return to a more active participation with my art – to get out of my head and off the pages with it. The past number of months I have been gathering myself and my ephemera and creating a place for it to happen.

I am going to attempt something a bit on the raw side with this post. (Hope I don’t lose you.) I don’t often share my morning writings “as is” in this blog but I feel a collaboration coming on with this Loretta who I have never met but whose story sliced into my artist’s heart with the precision of a surgeon. (I found Loretta in the back pages of a mixed-media magazine for artistic discovery. Cloth Paper Scissors, page 92 of the March/April issue to be exact.)

So, here’s the collaboration:
Pieces of my morning pages and Loretta’s story woven together to paint the experience of a Sunday musing. “J” is my journal. “LS” is Loretta’s story. (I hope Loretta and Cloth Paper Scissors will forgive my presumption to post my morning experience with them in this way before asking permission. And that they will be appeased with links and credits.)

Ready? Set? Go!

J: Pulled some runes regarding my journey back into the art studio. Looking at why I am not jumping in. I find myself reflecting back to 1994, just before Ray left me, and my original artist block struggles of that time. It would seem I am now picking up where I left off … Though the medium I am drawn to is vastly improved in its potential for playful expression, I drag my feet. What am I waiting for? More preparation? More ephemera? More inspiration? More time? More energy?

For my chores to be done?

LS: I am used to walking with my head down, checking for cracks in the uneven pavement of daily life.

J: There will always be chores. Chores, the word, is like miscellaneous, the word. As words and categories, they are vast. All consuming.

A vast sea of chores stands between artistic play and me …

LS: I never would have noticed the cottage that day … a tall elderly woman with silver hair appeared in the front door … She stood next to a round mahogany table that held a musty, ancient ledger …

J: A Rune pull? Oh yeah. That’s where I started. First Rune. Where I am now. Warrior. Reversed. Drat. Where I am calls for examining my motives. Trust and confidence are at issue. Am I working through an old belief system about the practicality of being an artist in a world with chores?

LS: “Have you seen her?” She whispered. Before I could answer, she turned to me and shook her head. “No, no; I can see it in your eyes – they are as flat as the sea in August. I know you hear her call.”

J: Second Rune. Action required. Growth. Upright. Disperse resistance. Correct motives. Set the foundation firmly … then blossom.

LS: “You walk with your head down, your pockets filled with shells, and your shoes with sand … and you still haven’t picked up a paintbrush except in your sleep.”

“Who are you?” I demanded, tears stinging my eyes …

J: Third Rune. Outcome based on action. Initiation. Reversed. The old way has come to an end. Call in scattered energies. Inner being is shifting and re-forming on a deep level. Patience. Constancy. Perseverance. Key words. Oh, and lots of humor.

LS: “… I help others to find a mermaid’s net. I’ve left you so many signs over the years! Why don’t you lift your head up? Do you know how much phosphorescence we’ve sent your way?” she asked, grabbing my arm with an iron grip.

… A tide of tears fell from my eyes.

J: But what of today? Today, I will not judge myself or the “chores” set out before me … I will be kind to myself. I will not extend the chore list and try to spend a little time in my art corner. Even if just to read an art magazine.

LS: … she murmured, “I’m sorry. It’s not the life for everyone. Some are too scared they’ll be dragged under. Go if you must, but you will leave the best part of you here.”

So there you have it. Raw and unfinished on the way to where I left one of the “best” parts of me. What about you? Jump on in and share. The water’s fine!

Loretta Benedetto Marvel is a mixed-media artist and writer. Treat yourself and read Loretta’s story in its entirety on page 92 of the magazine, Cloth Paper Scissors, March/April issue. And to see what else Loretta is up to at her website,  click here!

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When I was little …

I examined my bedroom from my bed – upside down.

I viewed other worlds in the television set – while it was off.

And I especially liked to see how many layers of reflections I could capture in a pane of glass …

Like this reflection of Ray on a Sunday morning while we were talking about why he loves painting chiaroscuro.

“It’s the focus on light. Without the subject’s relationship to light …” and he was off.

With me right on his heals as we talked about the light and THE LIGHT. About art and spirituality.

As the rising sun angled a beam across the living room, I looked over his shoulder and caught this image in the cabinet behind him.

“Don’t move. I’m getting the camera.”

… promising that I was NOT going to shoot his messy Sunday morning mug – directly.

One never knows when the muse will strike. Coffee and camera turned into an hour of play and an idea to play with. More to come on this one.

So, where has YOUR muse struck you lately? In the kitchen? The garden? The studio? They are everywhere you know …

Hey! If you like this, then LIKE it and SHARE it. You never know who could use a musing!

If Juliette’s picture is worth a thousand words, what does that make this music video that JMR Productions Site offers as the next kick?

Every object has a story and every story enlists a response. In my décor therapy workshops, I encourage participants to acknowledge the power of the storyteller in the objects found in their homes.

“What are you ‘buying into’ when you walk through the door? What subliminal messages are you investing energy in and giving power to? Reinforcing ‘happy stories’ within your four walls activates a powerful template that invites and anchors the positive life experiences you yearn for.”

Using this video to reinforce a point NOT to take our “stories” for granted, which JMR Productions Site so beautifully illustrates with a seemingly unimportant piece of bedroom hardware, qualifies as an easy kick in my book. One that the décor therapist in me simply could not pass up. (I’m even thinkin’ this video might be a good workshop opener.)

The photo that inspired this video. “Lost Bed”  by Juliette Mansour

“I’ll light the fire and you place a flower in the vase that you bought today …”

As JMR leads with this song by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, their can-kicking storytelling offers food for thought about the four walls we call home. Hope you enjoy this music video kicked all the way from the Motor City! With creativity like this, who needs wheels?

See JMR Productions Site’s videos by following them on Facebook. Click Here

Or check out their website to see what else they have to offer! Click Here

Kicking The Can: A Creative Collaboration:

Ever play “kick the can” when you were a kid? You’d happen on an abandoned can and before you knew it you were three blocks past your house. Maybe you’d even get lucky and meet a friend or two on your journey. One could travel around the world with a couple of friends and a can …

Missed the post that started this creative collaboration? Start Here

Want to help us kick this can around the world?

1. Go to Juliette’s blog Strange Street Stories and pick one of her street shots …

2. Write a story, poem, song, classified ad … or come up with some other creation …

3. Email me with your creation/copy, the photo that you selected (she has them titled), a link to your blog or website, and where in the world you are kicking the can from.

© Copyright Reminder – All writing, artwork and photos remain the copyrights of their creators. If you are inspired to share or quote from this article please share us with it. Together we grow!

So, if you like this then LIKE it and SHARE it with a kick!

The creative collaboration continues …

“Ever play “kick the can” when you were a kid? You’d happen on an abandoned can and before you knew it you were three blocks past your house. Maybe you’d even get lucky and meet a friend or two on your journey. One could travel around the world with a couple of friends and a can. That is what we are doing here. Kicking the virtual can …” 

Missed Part 1 of this project? Click Here.

Some pretty wild threads of conversation in The Messy Room’s back room (Facebook’s Inbox) and Juliette’s photo entitled “Random Pastings” inspired this comment from Michele Sevacko …

“… this [inbox] thread has caused me to pause and remember that conversation is also an art … and occurring in many places simultaneously. As it is layered and built on it takes it – and me – to another level.”

Here’s her can, kicked from the woods of North Carolina.

“Random Pastings” photo by Juliette Mansour

Random Pastings and The Art of Conversation
by Michele Sevacko

As I’ve been going about my “busy-ness” and “being-ness” today, I’ve continued to reflect on the idea of conversation as an art – as I see it showing up in responses to emails, phone calls and Facebook posts.

Using Facebook as one example:
I have found that, just as there are artists who paint, take photos or sculpt things that seem so real you just want to step into the scene, there are people who are so “real” in what they are communicating you feel that you’re there with them – although they can easily be on the other side of the globe. These are my “Realists.”

Then, there are the people that relate just the “facts,” who feel it is their duty to keep us informed. There are also the people that only want to know the “facts.” Collectively, they represent my “Cubists” – not because of a similarity to the style of art but because they seem to be stuck in a box/cube and are not willing to venture out and see what else they might experience outside of the “facts.”

Continuing in this vein, I have friends that are “Impressionists.” (And if you’re my “friend,” I can guarantee you have at least one.) These are the people who, through their writing, create the equivalent of “impressionism,” based on their perception. These are the people that really make me think and want to respond with my own impressions – based on my perceptions.

And while I’m sure there are many more analogies that can be made, the last one I’ll share is the people that are into “Abstracts.” Those are the posts that I just sit and stare at, often saying to myself, “I just don’t get this” or, “Man, this looks like too much thinking right now.” It is always interesting to see what people get from these different styles – and offer in response.

I am also reminded that, just as we have to hone our craft and develop our talent, the art of conversation takes practice. When we’re conversing in person we have the advantage of being able to see facial expressions and body language. When we’re on the phone we can hear inflections. However, when we’re typing we have to depend on our words only (along with pictures we may attach) to clearly state what we’re attempting to convey. We can type in CAPS if we want to make a point and we can add *%#@ if we feel the need to cuss – but we really have to depend on the words we use for the overall message.

Because ninety percent of my “spiritual support” is given through the internet or via phone, being aware that I am not just typing or talking – that this is one of my ways of expressing and being creative – is important for me to remember. However, even if that weren’t the case, I would still say that it is in our best interest to remember that no matter what we are saying and no matter to whom that it is still creative expression. And, that that expression is filled with energy and vibrations so it serves us well to be aware of the types of energy and vibrations we’re sending out into the universe.

We each respond differently to art – whether it is visual or auditory. We each have our preferences of style. Some things visually, energetically or vibrationally resonate with us – others don’t. However, because I feel that there are no “accidents,” when something doesn’t initially “grab” my attention I try to remember “judge not by appearances” and respond to the invitation to grow – even just a little. Just as I may look at an abstract painting and not “get it,” if I look long enough I can always find something to relate to whether it is a shape, a color, or a texture. Sometimes a conversation can be the same. Initially, I may just not get it; but I find that if I take the time to really “listen” there are layers – and can usually find something to relate to.

And, that’s what relationships are about. In our relationships, sometimes we are attracted by our similarities and sometimes because we’re very different. One thing we all have in common though is that we are all unique expressions – so, we have a need and desire to express. Each time I take the time to stretch a bit and venture into a space I wouldn’t normally go I learn a little something. It may be about you. It may be about me. But, usually it’s about both of us.

Is that a coincidence? YES!! It is co – incidents. Two – or a hundred and two – people coming together and connecting in this art form called conversation.

To me, the Art of Conversation relates to “Random Pastings” with each piece initially appearing “random” or even insignificant; but ultimately expressing perfection as it takes its place as part of the whole.

Michele Sevacko is an ordained New Thought minister and lives in the Triad area of North Carolina with her husband and 4-legged kids. With a Ph.D. in Philosophy, specializing in Pastoral Counseling, she provides spiritual support services. She is also one of our Visiting Muses.

You can get to know Michele better on this post: Metaphysical Malpractice (a.k.a. what did you do to deserve this?)

Find out more about Rev. Michele Sevacko and her Pastoral Counseling Ministry at her website: CLICK HERE

Follow Michele on Facebook through her alter-ego MettaFizzical A(musings): CLICK HERE

Want to help us kick this can around the world?

1. Go to Juliette’s blog Strange Street Stories and pick one of her street shots …

2. Write a story, poem, song, classified ad … or come up with some other creation …

3. Email me with your creation/copy, the photo that you selected (she has them titled), a link to your blog or website, and where in the world you are kicking the can from.

© Copyright Reminder – All writing, artwork and photos remain the copyrights of their creators. If you are inspired to share or quote from this article please share The Messy Room with it. Together we grow!

So, if you like this then LIKE it and SHARE it with a kick!

Ever play “kick the can” when you were a kid? You’d happen on an abandoned can and before you knew it you were three blocks past your house. Maybe you’d even get lucky and meet a friend or two on your journey.

One could travel around the world with a couple of friends and a can. And that is what we are doing here. Kicking the virtual can! To follow the can, I have to take you to the time BEFORE the can appeared. It started with a post on ephemera. My Life As Ephemera, actually. The game began with a contribution from Sharron. A mandala that she created from my ephemera shot. And a poem.

I thought, “How delightful! I must share this right away.” But a little voice (you know the one) said, “Wait. There’s more.” So I waited. That’s when the can appeared. Well, really, it was a comment made by Juliette on my second ephemera post, Shoe Boxes & Found Objects, with a link to HER blog where “Voila!” the can appeared.

So, I kicked it. And she kicked it back. Then we sent out a call to see if anyone else wanted to play. (That’s when I discovered The Messy Room has a back room … heheheh … one that I dare not post!)

So, here is the first kick from Sharron Cee in South Carolina:

A Mandala: Created from the shot I used in my post, My Life as Ephemera. According to Sharron:

“Mandala simply means circle. Creating mandalas is common in Native American, Buddhist (especially Tibetan), and other cultures. The Buddhist mandalas are particularly complex with each layer and color placement having a specific meaning. If you haven’t seen the sand mandalas made (and destroyed) by the monks of the Drepung Loseling monastery in Atlanta, it is a worthwhile event. They create beautiful mandalas from colored sand, then destroy them, and scatter the sand in a water place (lake, river, etc). The purpose is to demonstrate the impermanence of all conditioned things.”

Ephemera Mandala by Sharron Cee

And a Poem:

There once was a woman named Bernadette Rose
With rings on her fingers and bells on her toes
Bright cloth, ribbons, baubles in boxes she kept
Stored in the closet or beneath where she slept
And when she’d a mind to, she’d pull it all out
To play with arrangements and move stuff about
Until from her hands and from out her mind’s eye
Came some beautiful art as the hours flew by
She repurposed this and she repurposed that
(Jewelry, dried flowers, but never a cat)
Hours were spent in this creative pleasure
Repurposed stuff was born into a treasure

Oh there once was a woman named Bernadette Rose
And you’ll find art-filled beauty wherever she goes.

Then here is the second kick from Juliette in Atlanta, Georgia:

“Bernadette, you can find interesting ephemera on the streets! Check out this collection of odd, artistic, far out street stuff on my blog … okay, well some are ephemera anyway!”

Click to see Juliette’s “can kicking” blog

Which led to another kick from me: And Juliette’s agreement to let me follow my muse with a post about her blog and the nature of inspiration.

“Inspiration is unpredictable. That’s what makes it so magical. When it strikes it has that first time freshness – like falling in love – that defies the dull, deadening impulses of …”

Click to read the rest of this post

Which lead to another kick from Sharron: Inspired by the skull shot she saw when she followed my link to Juliette’s blog.

"Skull in the Yard" by Juliette Mansour

Mandala Art by Sharron Cee

And another kick from J.m. Rivas in Michigan: Inspired by our interest in this photo’s possible story on Juliette’s blog. (All of us in the back room agreed this was song material … or perhaps a video …)

"Lost Bed" by Juliette Mansour

A Story:

Reminiscent Ramblings from The INSTA-MATIC Bed Base

I’m older now.
The part we played.
My friends and I came and stayed.
Mattress friend, his box and bed.
Framed relations all shiny and new, snapping together,
holding so true.

Happy we were when the newlyweds came
and took us to home.

Those were the years of constant use
and giggles and laughter and shades of abuse.
Then came the children, Melissa and Roy,
who bounced on us often with glee and with joy.
And the presents at Christmas we hid for them all
under the bed where the dust balls would crawl.

Happy we were when the children came
and tested our strength by bouncing insane.

Soon the newlyweds that we had adored
seemed to grow older and often seemed bored.
Reading a book or using the phone,
watching TV and eating saltines
while we stood our vigilant duty.
Holding up lives from falling to floor.

Happy we were to provide all this service. Never we asked
for anything more

But alas, what we learned is time changes all.
The mattress got saggy, the frame bent to fall.
My brother base holders broke to the weight
and soon the floor claimed us.
We realized our fate.
Now, I stand here before you alone on this table
waiting for someone who’s willing and able to
find me a place,
find a new purpose.
Praying hopefully,
maybe
there’s life after service?

Happy I was to have lived in a home
where the laughter was plenty …

Visit muse Rivas at JMR Productions site by clicking here

And yet another kick from Shellie Enteen in South Carolina:

Juliette's Pabst Blue

Kicking the Can

The draft beers of Britain are round
and friendly, caramel colored and soft
on the tongue.

The dark robust Irish brew, Guinness,
surprisingly sour under creamy top,
filled with iron, good for women
on their moon.

The fizzy, tinny can the US settles for
offers no redemption, cuts into the buzz,
sharper still when left, half full, sitting
in the sun.

Do not return.

Read more of Shellie’s work at Shellie Writes

As I wrap up the first post of what I hope will be more, I am DELIGHTED to witness and be part of this creative flow. The generosity of these muses who share their creativity so freely and spontaneously inspires me. And I hope it does you too!

Want to help us kick this can around the world?

1. Go to Juliette’s blog Strange Street Stories and pick one of her street shots …

2. Write a story, poem, song, classified ad … or come up with some other creation …

3. Email me with your creation/copy, the photo that you selected (she has them titled), a link to your blog or website, and where in the world you are kicking the can from.

© Copyright Reminder – All writing, artwork and photos remain the copyrights of their creators. If you are inspired to share or quote from this article please share
The Messy Room with it. Together we grow!

So, if you like this then LIKE it and SHARE it with a kick!

Inspiration is unpredictable. That’s what makes it so magical. When it strikes it has that first time freshness – like falling in love – that defies the dull, deadening impulses of the mundane.

We might yearn for inspiration. Even create an environment that encourages it. But, in the end, inspiration will not be bought nor controlled. That we might take delight.

As a street photographer, Juliette finds her inspiration is often right around the corner. We seem to share a muse because what inspires her frequently inspires me. Her comment and blog link on Shoeboxes and Found Objects inspired an ephemeral muse-fusion that we are collaborating to capture. That we might share delight!

“Bernadette, you can find interesting ephemera on the streets! Check out this collection of odd, artistic, far out street stuff on my blog … okay, well some are ephemera anyway!”

Many Angry Eggs

“From carved out, psychedelic-colored, old refrigerators to creepy skulls hanging from a tree, here are some bizarre things found on the street that makes one stop and think, “how did that get there?”

Winter Seating

BIG ephemera that certainly fits my definition. With photo captions like: Skull in the Yard • Lost Bed • An Old Make Out Place • Psycho Fridge • Welcome No One • Claustrophobic Artist • Lost in the City • Suddenly a Wall … how can you NOT click on this link? Visit Juliette’s blog and see more of her street story shots.

(And don’t be shy. Let her know you visited. Even a simple “hello” inspires a blogging muse!)

Check back. Juliette is one of my Visiting Muses.

You can get to know Juliette better and see more of her work on this post: Bilingual Chick with a Knack for Creative Stuff.

HEY! To the poets out there who visit the Messy Room: Do any of her shots inspire you? A “Messy Poet’s Corner” could fit quite nicely in The Messy Room. Email me if you are inspired to join Juliette and me in our muse-play.

To follow other Visiting Muses: Click Here

If you liked this, then LIKE this and SHARE it! Together we grow!

I’m pulling this one out of the archive closet. It really speaks to this newly purposed blog format for the Messy Room. And it also speaks to journaling the journey!

•  •  •  •  •  •

Original Entry: April 5, 2007

Those of you who signed up for our manifestation series will know what I mean when I say I am working on the first part of the formula. Got to walk the talk, right? So, I want to share a fun awareness that very quietly slipped into view last week – between the waxing moon and full moon.

Something interesting – or should I say someone interesting – has reappeared. My artist self. It took two layovers in Atlanta, a week apart, in one particular bookstore – wandering the aisles and killing time between Feng Shui appointments – to finally notice her presence. (I live a good ways from Atlanta so I consider these kind of layovers a real treat.)

Anyway, back to wandering the aisles, sipping coffee, and scanning the usual shelves. (Self help. Interior design. Philosophy. Metaphysical.) On my second visit, I found an angel card deck by Doreen Virtue that was not sealed and treated myself to a mini-reading. That must have been where my artist self saw her opportunity to sneak in because immediately afterward I landed in the art section, specifically the craft section, pouring through pages and pages of how to’s. Papermaking, hand-bound journals, altered books, collages, artist trading cards. Art decorated with found objects given a new purpose. Bits and pieces of God knows what from God knows where. The funkier the better.

Guess I got a little tipsy because the next thing I knew I was in the checkout line with a book on art dolls. That is when my artist self tapped me on the shoulder and posed an interesting question, one that I have not been able to shake:

What kind of artist would you be today if you stepped back into your art, Bernadette?

Stepped back into my art? I wasn’t aware that I had ever stepped out.

Since then, she has gently led me past my formal training in two-dimensional art and design to the little girl who drew paper dolls, designed their wardrobe, cut them out, and played with them. To the mixed media child who covered shoe boxes (inside and out) with aluminum foil and colored tissue paper and then glued bits of ribbon, broken pieces of jewelry, scraps of netting, plastic flowers (Yep. I’m a survivor of the tacky plastic flower era), rocks, seashells, and any other fair-game-found-objects into her little shadow box world. A world that was often integrated with religious themes; her favorite being those that incorporated a statue of the Virgin Mary from her mother’s dresser in a grotto-like setting. (As grotto-like as you can get in a box covered with aluminum foil.) She especially liked to attach little handmade cards with a poem or verse – or better yet, the promise of a novena and gift her creations “To Mom.” Creations that only a mother could love – and a blessed mother at that!

Viewing my intrigue for funky, mixed-media expressions of art these last couple of years as an anomaly, her reappearance assures me with a sense of continuity and leaves me with a distinct feeling that, when my life supports a little more time for creative expression of the visual kind, she will be the artist that gets to play.

Why? Because what she finds enthusiasm for is symbolic and rather plentiful in my life right now. Collage-like days that reflect bits and pieces of experiences combined not so much for the purpose of an obviously finished masterpiece but for the pleasure of an obviously unfinished process. Snippets of inspiration. Of this and that pulled together. Magical creations. Mixed-media expressions of a multi-dimensional spirit. Past. Present. Future. Revealed in the spontaneity of the moment. Clip it. Paste it. Throw a little glitter on it. What a wonderful meditative practice her art form could be. I find myself thinking about the kind of workshops she would want to give. Messy ones that tap into and somehow express sanctuary, spirituality, and the goddess – a la Mary and the grotto; prayers included.

So, my awareness in this first cycle? My artistic urges to gather fair-game-found-objects and hide them in shoe boxes in the back of my closet are, in fact, not an anomaly or a childish phase, but a clue. An answer. My artist self was there in the beginning with a purpose and has reappeared with a purpose – and I’m quite curious to see what we will be creating together.

Anybody else want to play? Pull out your shoe boxes and jump right in!

If you enjoyed this you might also enjoy: My Life as Ephemera

If you entered through the art gallery: Click here to go back.

And if you like this, then LIKE this and SHARE it with your friends!

e•phem•er•a 1. something that is transitory and without lasting significance  2. a range of collectable items that were originally designated to be short-lived

I have a secret, long-time love affair with ephemera.

If you traveled back in time with me and rummaged through one of the bedroom closets from my childhood, we would find shoe boxes (neatly stacked, of course) filled with cast-offs and found objects.

Plastic flower pieces. (Yes, I grew up in the plastic flower era.) Broken bits of jewelry. Belt buckles. Assorted rocks and seashells. Coins from mysterious foreign lands. (Okay, Canadian coins from across the river.) Bits of lace and embroidery thread. Odd buttons. Aluminum foil scraps and colored tissue paper. And a clothespin or two.

If we fast-forward to one of my bedroom closets, say around the age of sixteen, we would find bigger boxes with cast off clothing.

Grandma Doll’s crocheted aprons. (Waiting to be converted to vests and halter-tops.) Mom’s 50’s pearl-buttoned sweaters and jackets. (Waiting to be worn with my favorite hip-hugger bell bottom jeans – the pair with the chessboard appliqué on the butt stitched by yours truly.) Grandma Smith’s Greta Garbo-esque satin wedding dress. (Too precious to cut up but a definite inspiration.) An older  cousin’s 40’s taffeta and organdy party dress. Gloves in assorted shades of white to ivory. A black Cossack-style coat. And a velvet hand-beaded by somebody in the family purse.

If we fast-forward just a little more, we’d find a freshly married Bernadette merging with life in the fast lane – a life that left her no time for the magical meanderings ephemera encouraged.

•  •  •  •  •

“The creation story portrays the love of a creative God lifting beauty and order out of the chaos.” – Sr. Macrina Weiderkehr O.S.B.

Now, lets visit one more Bernadette. The one who, when swept to the curb, scrambled to salvage bits of her broken dreams before they washed into the storm drain as her life and marriage shattered into the unrecognizable rubble that some might consider ephemera.

What a beautiful mess – to accept the invitation to see my life as ephemera through the eyes and spirit of the little girl who gathered treasures and placed them in shoe boxes to be re-purposed at a later time. She didn’t worry about deadlines (or speed limits) or what someone else thought about her little fascinations. She kept and categorized them so she could find them when their purpose was revealed.

So, Mr. Webster’s New World Dictionary, here’s two things I know about ephemera that you didn’t touch:

• That which the world casts off as something transitory and without lasting significance the artist picks up to give significance.

• Sometimes that which we cast off as transitory and without lasting significance God picks back up to give US lasting significance.

So, today, I’m full-circle it seems. When Ray left, I was a struggling artist trying to find my way back to that magical place of possibility and expression. When he returned, we found a re-purposed marriage and I, a new path working with people in their homes. Now, 16 years after my scramble at the curb, I find myself with shoe boxes (they’re clear plastic now) filled with ephemera as I embark into the world of mixed media and altered book art.

The difference today? My shoe boxes are out of the closet and I share my ephemera (inside and out) in this messy room and in Bernadette’s Pages.

So, of course I have to ask, any other ephemera enthusiasts out there? Where are you with ephemera in YOUR life and what are you doing with it?

Or, perhaps you would like to share as an artist-writer-musician-creative. What do you do with your bits and pieces?

If you like this, you might also enjoy: Awareness: Shoe Boxes & Found Objects

If you entered through the art gallery: Click here to go back.

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Gail Marie is an upcycling wizard with a magical wand that doubles as a dowsing rod for hidden treasures. You’ll find Gail Marie – with wand in hand – digging through odd lot boxes of castoffs at yard sales and flea markets that even die-hard bargain hunters shy away from. (You may think Goodwill hunting is a movie but to Gail Marie it’s a shopping safari.)

With a touch of imagination and a twirl of her wand, bits of this and pieces of that morph into something magical. She sees new life where others have given up hope and refashions unlikely combinations into sometimes practical, sometimes whimsical treasures.

And that ability is a gift that saved her life.

You see Gail Marie has upcycled herself. She is a cancer survivor four times over. From the first diagnosis of early stage HPV cervical cancer in 2000 that required a hysterectomy, to the two year later tumor that required laser treatment, to the one year later tumor that required an out-patient procedure, to the last discovery in 2004 that required a major surgical procedure that pieced her out and almost killed her.

Cancer cast Gail Marie off to salvage bits of herself and pieces of her life. Not much to work with by most standards. She’s had to find purpose and breathe life into a vastly different physical self – as well as lifestyle – in much the same way that she finds purpose and breathes life into cast off objects overlooked on the bottom shelves of thrift stores.

As she captures delight with her reincarnated creations, she points to a path where vision and hope whisper of repurposing, refashioning and recommitting to the overlooked treasures in our own lives.

And that makes Gail Marie an upcycling wizard in the most amazing of ways.

These pink ribbon angels are dedicated to all those who have won – or are fighting – the battle. They measure about 5″x5″ and are about 1/4″ thick. Each comes in a handmade envelope and tied with a silver cord and stamped with “Believe in Miracles.”

This may look like a gift box to you – and indeed it is – but it started its life as a cast off manila office folder! Gail Marie makes these boxes as ‘go-withs’ for her upcycled jewelry pieces.

Button. Button. Who found the button? Dress up your ears with these dangling delights!

A spoon by any other name – in this case – rings Gail Marie’s chimes!

Against the odds – and contrary to a few Doctor’s opinions – Gail Marie honored her internal wand. She asked questions, sought second opinions, educated herself, and was not afraid to align her practice and belief in alternative therapies with traditional medicine. You’ll find more Gail Marie inspirations at Etsy and on Facebook.

Click here if you want to connect with Gail Marie on Facebook.

As always, I welcome your comments!