“Crafts make us feel rooted, give us a sense of belonging, and connect us with our history. Our ancestors used to create these crafts out of necessity, and now we do them for fun, to make money, and to express ourselves.” – Phyllis George
Ah, yes, crafting. We’ve all made something out of leftover fabric, a couple of popsicle sticks, and some yarn. There was a pencil holder on my father’s desk that I gave him when I was in 5th grade. It was an old soup can (Campbell’s, the official soup of the art world) covered in elbow macaroni that I painted green and smeared with glitter. It was butt ugly, and I should have wiped out the inside a little better, but my father treasured it even more than he might have if it had been from Andy Warhol himself.
For school, Girl Scouts, and other activities, there was always a craft involved. In preparation for a camping trip, we made “Sit-Upons,” where we sewed a large pocket of what I think was a vinyl tablecloth with folded-up newspapers inside and a ribbon tied around our waist. That way, on the camping trip, we had something to “sit upon” while we took twigs and tied yarn around them to make “God’s Eyes.” It wasn’t long after that I left the Girl Scouts because, quite honestly, I did not enjoy sitting on plastic, out in the woods, eating a baloney sandwich, and tying twigs together.
I would not escape arts and crafts, though. On playdates, in school, and at YMCA camp, there was always a big jug of glue, lumps of modeling clay, gimp, and glitter. Usually, from all that, we were supposed to make an ashtray (it was the 1970s) or a keychain. If it was near Christmas, there would be candy canes, pipe cleaners, and googly eyes to make a reindeer, but somehow, on the way home, my flying baby moose would suffer a fatal neck fracture in my school bag, lying next to my lunchbox, with an eye missing.
Once I finished school, I thought I was free from glue sticks and mini pom-poms, but it was time for my kids to become crafters. I encouraged Play-Doh because I loved all the sets, like the hair salon and the “Fun Factory,” where you could make shapes and give the Play-Doh people bad haircuts. I was, however, the failure Mom who couldn’t manage those plastic melty beads. Seriously, who at a toy company thinks a kit that comes with tweezers and a thousand tiny plastic bits that you have to melt with an iron is something a five-year-old should have?
The kiddy craft days are over, but I’m making a cod for the Marblehead Festival of Arts for the second year in a row. I recently had to go to a craft store to buy supplies. If you’re a crafter, you know this place. If you are not, you wander around for half an hour looking at dozens of glue options, every brush you could imagine, and magic markers that truly did look magical, especially the ones all lined up neatly in cases. After nearly slipping into a coma in the spray paint aisle, I finally had to ask where to find stencils. Oh, fun fact. They card you for a spray paint purchase.
I bought rocks and sea glass because I waited so long to start this project that I couldn’t wander the beach and get my own. I also had the help of a local seafood place because the tail fin of my cod will include lobster shells. I’ve created barnacles out of clay and “waves” out of bits of nautical rope, and there’s even going to be some painting involved.
I’m not sure it’s truly “art,” but I do think it’s a level up from crafts. I’m happy I don’t have to create crafts out of necessity or for financial reasons because I’d be at the mercy of the Scrap-a-thon ladies and the elementary school art teachers. For now, I’m just hoping I don’t lop off a finger when I cut up the bits of navigation charts I’m using and that the glue fumes only give you cancer in California, where the label is required to warn me that I could endanger my chromosomes if I inhale.
If you are an artist, a crafter, a painter, a sculptor, or anyone who knows their way around all this, I salute you. I’m a little lost at sea with all of it, but it’s a fish, so at least I’m in the right neighborhood. Keep an eye out at the festival for the “Barney-Cod,” named for my favorite place for Vitamin Sea.
Brenda Kelley Kim has lived in Marblehead for 50 years and is an author, freelance writer, and mother of three. Her column appears weekly.
