Dear Artisan,
AND THE WINNERS ARE …
My contest for stories about “the weirdest thing you’ve ever had to do with your art to make money” brought in some wonderful tales! Artistic/creative types certainly do lead interesting lives.
First place goes to:
Sophee I. Lemonde, of Portland, OR
She will receive a matted, shrink-wrapped art print of her choice from my website.
Here is her story:
“I’m a poet and songwriter and an auntie, all of which I love above all other things.
One day my favorite 9-year-old niece texted me that she and some of her friends were creating a play for the school talent show and she was going to be a dragonfly and needed a song. She and I worked together on a short, silly ditty that she could sing as she flitted among her friends-dressed-as-flowers on stage. The song was energetic and required leaps, hops and the flapping of wings.
On the night of the talent show, to which I was invited, I met my niece backstage for a quick costume check and rehearsal. She didn’t look good. In fact, the minute she opened her mouth to practice her lines, she suddenly bent over and threw up into the box of wigs.
To keep this under 500 words, I will briefly say that I’m a very short, slender woman with rather wild, curly brown hair, and I wear glasses.
The play went on as planned; but the ‘new’ dragonfly was heavy of foot and tripped over a planter and sprained her ankle, measuring her full length on the stage floor in front of four, alarmed flowers, because she had removed her glasses and couldn’t see where she was going. Subsequently, she limped rather than flitted about the stage, and one wing tended to drag. Her antennae wouldn’t sit straight on all that curly, brown hair, and kept sliding to one side. The silly ditty came out from behind the mask in a contralto voice that startled the ‘old’ dragonfly’s parents, who were sitting in the front row of the auditorium. The ‘new’ dragonfly scuttled out the back door of the school as soon as the play ended, her pale, 9-year-old niece in tow, leaving the flowers to explain everything.”
Second place goes to:
ANONYMOUS (who asked to remain so because of the proximity of persons related to this story)
She will receive a package of four cards, all of one design from my website.
Here is her story:
I got a job in a dental clinic in central British Columbia to support my “art habit” and discovered, over time, that my unpleasant, overbearing boss made strange demands on his staff, usually just to save a buck. My turn came when he purchased himself a new fishing boat, and it was made clear to me that, since I was an artist, I would paint the name on the boat’s hull for him. Not too onerous sounding, eh?
My husband and I arrived at my boss’s house on a sunny Saturday. Cans of paint, drop cloths, brushes and jugs of solvent were laid neatly out on the driveway, where the boat squatted upon a trailer in full view of the neighborhood. My boss was out there waiting for us.
“What’s the name?” I asked as I pulled on a rubber glove.
“Eupareunia,” he answered.
My husband and I looked at each other in puzzlement. I’ve always prided myself on my vocabulary, but had never come across this word.
“It’s what?” I asked as respectfully as possible, since he was, after all, my boss.
He clasped his hands behind his back and rocked back and forth on his heels, a familiar behavior that I had come to associate with his habit of serving up trouble. He was clearly proud of himself as he informed me, “Dyspareunia is a word meaning ‘painful sex.’ I’ve invented a new word by replacing the ‘d-y-s’ with ‘e-u’. ‘E-U’ means euphoric.” He smirked at us.
I stared at him in disbelief. And he stared right back, daring me to object. In fact, this man had perfected the ‘aren’t you an interesting specimen’ stare to the point that I had seen provincial politicians quail before it.
I snapped the cuff of the second rubber glove on my wrist and reached for a screwdriver. “Okey dokey,” I said tersely.
Smiling like a lion, my boss put an arm about my husband’s shoulders and steered him into the house. “Hey,” he said in a jocular tone, “let’s go open up a couple of cold ones.”
My husband, the traitor, went along, laughing nervously.
My afternoon, spent painting this self-aggrandizing name on this man’s boat, TWICE, because he wanted it on both sides of the hull, not to mention fielding all the questions asked by friendly neighbors who wanted to know “what does THAT mean?”, is one I’ve never forgotten. My self esteem as an artist sank with the sun that day. And I awakened the next morning to a stiff neck, a result, I’m sure, of all the cringing and swallowing of dismay that I had done.
Because I was in my twenties and a greenhorn in the wide world, I have forgiven my lack of back bone on that day. However, until this story, I have never written that word again.”
Third place goes to:
Katya Taylor, of Port Townsend, WA
She will receive a fine art card of her choice from my website.
Here is her story:
“I really haven’t done anything out of the ordinary in terms of making a living, other than creating my art as my livelihood, (always an adventure). But sometimes it’s the customers that are the real wackiness. I’m no stranger to the transgender crowd. Being a costumer and seamstress, I’ve dressed a number of men who just wanted to be pretty. I usually try to have fun with it and help put them at ease. But this customer was different. He was not about having fun and initially I did not pick up on the fact that he was shopping for himself. When my inquiries about the woman he was shopping for were met with “the look”, I quickly picked out a few things that would work on his frame and set him up in the dressing room. I don’t normally like to sell an outfit without checking out the fit, but he was not giving any fashion show. He did, however, pick out several items and proceeded to pay for them … with a check written from the account of the archdiocese of a large city.”
Katya is the founder and owner of Renaissance Rags, a unique clothing store in Pt. Townsend, WA, which specializes in vintage style clothing of many kinds, all designed by Katya. Please see her beautiful creations at her website : http://www.renaissancerags.com/
Honorable mention goes to:
Sue Earle of Salt Spring Island, British Columbia, Canada
Here is her story:
“While I was working at Treenway Silks on Salt Spring Island, I got a ‘cold call’ one day from a woman at Dodd’s Furniture Store in Victoria. She prefaced her call with “this is going to sound weird”…A customer in my area had bought a couch, and needed more stuffing put into it. As that was a service they offer, they needed to honour it, but were hoping to find a local person to do it, so that it wouldn’t cost them 6 hours, gas, lunch and a ferry fare to do it. I said “sure”, I could do it.
It took a few more phone calls over the next month, and I began to wonder about the customer — was he extremely particular? Well, he was a little ‘precious’ but it was a full moon the day he and his wife bought the couch. Finally the enormous bag of quality polyester fill arrived, and I made the appointment with him to take care of it one evening.
When I arrived, an older man, alone and on a phone call, answered the door. The couch looked fine to me, but his wife, apparently the woman he kept referring to as ‘mother’, wanted the couch to look as fully stuffed as the pillows.
Couch cushions these days are made without finesse — a pillow shape, with the stuffing inside a lightweight baggy tube to keep it from sticking to the fabric, no shaping at all. I began to stuff.
He came back in and said “Mother wouldn’t like it, it’s not puffy enough.”
So I stuffed all of it.
Three times he checked and wasn’t satisfied that ‘mother’ would approve. I was feeling desperate to get out. I pointed out that couches of this design would never hold the shape. One would have to pound the pillows back in shape after long sessions on the couch. He didn’t believe me.
After I had done all I could, I had to submit a bill. I was going to charge $25 and a friend said “no, charge more!” So I wrote up a bill: $10 for gas, $15 for my time, $25 for having to listen to a grown man continually refer to his wife as ‘mother’=$50 total.
They paid me, and I thought how great that the universe provides, and that a furniture store would pay me $50 for that work!”
Sue is a talented costume designer and seamstress, and is creative in many ways.
My heartfelt thank yous go out to everyone who encouraged, considered and responded to my call for stories. What a FUN adventure this has been! I’m already contemplating what my theme will be for next year’s contest.
For an exciting exploration of your creative potential, please see my blog post 9 Questions to Ask Yourself About Your Self-Worth and Creative Passion.
Yours in new beginnings,
~Terrea
“Don’t tell me you’re too old or that none of us is interested in what you have to say. Few literary debuts were as stunning as the publication of Amy Clampitt’s first full-length book of poetry, “The Kingfisher”, in 1983, when she was 63. Although she had been a poet all her life, she didn’t find her authentic voice until she was in her fifties. If you have lived all your life hearing another voice in your heart, maybe it’s time to channel it.“
~Sarah Ban Breathnach~
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