My childhood was dominated by my fascinating father. He would have Mom pack us all up nearly every weekend for a camping trip to the ocean or mountains. (Mom was a saint, but that’s another story).Dad was a Renaissance man who dove for abalone, spear-fished, water-skied, built boats, performed fly-fishing as an art, did a mean rain dance involving blackberry brandy, could make or fix anything, understood physics and refrigerators, and loved his wife, his kids, and God. And this is only a partial list of what he knew, could do, or loved.
We spent the majority of our time on the Pacific Coast, from Gualala to Fort Bragg, where during the seventies, the abalone was abundant. We also backpacked into the remotest parts of the Sierras and water-skied and fished every summer at Sky Lake Reservoir with the cousins. We used to sleep on the beach and eat like kings, or camp in the dirt and put on fantastic (in our minds) skits for the adults and eat s’mores. My childhood was rich and abundant and very spiritual, mostly because of my father.
Unlike my Dad, I have always thought small. I am the kind of person who loves organization and anything miniature. When I was a kid, I would collect bits of things on our trips, and then sort them and catalogue them for future use in discarded egg crates upon returning home. This is how I ended up with a gazillion shells, shell fragments, arrowheads, arrowhead chips (mostly obsidian), pieces of driftwood, colored and interestingly shaped rocks, and other assorted flotsam.
The first project I remember doing was a gift for my mom. I took some of the obsidian chips that I had collected while hunting for arrowheads, and glued them to a form of a bird I made from Styrofoam, created a nest from sticks, and glued it all to a rock. This was my interpretation of a mother eagle and her nest of eggs and in my childish mind, this was a good representation of my mom. In fact, I think that it’s still a good one. I gave it to Mom for Mother’s Day.
The next project that I remember doing was a painting of the ocean on a rock, with the smallest shells imaginable glued all over the beach. This was a present to my dad for Father’s Day. The ambitiousness of the eagle project doomed it to self-destruction over the years, but after my dad passed away in 2000, I found the ocean rock, pretty much intact, in his nightstand drawer. My mom let me know that he had always kept it there.
I have experimented with many different art forms my whole life. All of my work is inspired by my childhood recollections. I use imagery from my father’s childhood nursery tale picture books, the ocean that I love so much, miniature anything, nature, and most especially, Louis the 14th and Rococo style (inspired by the Pretty Patty doll furniture and house that was given to me for Christmas in 1966). I make everything with love, and have had a really hard time in the past parting with my creations.
Two years ago, I purchased twenty bags of shells from the local dollar store. My daughter and I were going to use them in her upcoming wedding, but she called it off (again, another story) and I was left with more shells than anyone could have need for. I decided to create shell mirrors. My house is now full of mirrors, all my friends have mirrors, and recently my husband asked me to please stop. But alas, I cannot. And so I decided to sell my mirrors on the internet. And because I can’t stop beading assorted items I decided to sell them too. It was my son who came up with my slogan “Gluing stuff to other stuff since 1965”. I truly hadn’t realized until he pointed it out that there is a definite theme to what I do and that I’ve been doing it since I can remember.
And so I would now love for you the reader to obtain one of my mirrors and I will be happy knowing that you will love and admire it for years. The only caveat I have for your purchase is that you email me and tell me about yourself so that I feel that my art is with a friend and I will not mourn its loss.
Love – Susie-June
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