In her early years, my sister Jules had an incredible gift for finding those tiny little hidden objects in the pages of I Spy books. I was more of a Little House on the Prairie girl myself, but I remember spending many hours with Jules looking through those spreads of things – so many things – and wondering, where on earth did the people who made these books find all that stuff?

Well, they definitely could have found them at Creative Reuse a Goodwill-like donation and purchase shop on Telegraph in Oakland, where you can donate your old art materials and get a great deal on…well…stuff.

Yes, boxes and baskets and bins of shells, corks, bottles, crayons, caps, candles, stoppers, beakers, and anything else that might have been donated by someone who – for whatever reason – had a few extra boxes of, say, cards that say “this product is organic.”

I went down there hoping to pick up a stockpile of backing cardboard, but I think that Creative Reuse is a place you have to go without any hopes or expectations – like a garage sale, really.  Because you may not find your cardboard, but you will certainly stand there wondering, “What could I possibly do with ten pounds of corks and an old cassette box?”

Any ideas?

At Christmastime, we like to replace a set of coffee table books with favorite Christmas stories.  This way, we might just pick one up when we least expect it, like while the pasta water is heating.  Here is a little story about one of our favorite stories:
Once upon a time there was a little girl named Ellen (sound familiar?) who lived in Connecticut.  She was in the second grade.  Her mother, Cathy (that would be me) learned that Chris Van Allsburg would be appearing at a little book store in a nearby town to sign his new book, Polar Express. (It was new at the time.) So off we went to have our book signed, and more importantly to meet the illustrator.  We stood in line, barely able to contain ourselves … well okay … myself.  When we reached the table, the author couldn’t have been nicer.  He signed the book, while Ellen just looked at him with her big brown eyes, not saying a word.  Finally, I said, “Ellen, do you have anything you would like to ask Mr. Van Allsburg?” which really meant, “Gosh, I, the mom/illustrator have a million things I would like to ask,” but, I bit my tongue.  Then, Ellen looked at the author right in the eye and asked, “Is that really what the North Pole looks like?” And his answer was,
“That’s how I remember it.”
We both smiled and walked away with admiration and wonder.
(By the way, I’m happy to report that the bell still rings for me!)

Recently, I had a similar experience to my chapel visit days (see previous post).  I was invited to a luncheon in the middle of a busy work day, in which the Helping Hand Home was honoring several people in our community who had made a difference in the lives of children.  After the second honoree stood up and humbly accepted her award, I was already secretly dabbing tears away.  By the time the last one was honored, I was a blubbering mess.
Then, as if that wasn’t enough emotion right in the middle of the day, our guest speaker was Trevor Romain.  From South Africa, now calling Austin home, Trevor began by telling his own story of growing up with dyslexia and the path he took to becoming an illustrator.  He, then, told the story of meeting a severely injured child while he was serving in the military, which influenced his desire to help children.  He now combines his gifts and travels the world to perform and draw for children and help them deal with difficult life situations.  He told story after story of the children with whom he had worked who had cancer or who were surviving war-torn areas of the world without food, clothing and often without parents.  It was clear that these children have touched his heart and are his inspiration today.
Like my days zipping down to the girls’ school for a chapel service, I left the luncheon renewed and content.  It was inspiring to know that people, like Trevor and the caring recipients of the awards, are making an important difference every day.  And it’s nice to take a little time off in the middle of the day to remember what really matters.

The Trevor Romain Foundation has created the Comfort Crew™, which is a group of compassionate folks who support and comfort kids going through difficult times.  Trevor and his friend Coco, ambassador for the Comfort Crew™, and a most talented mouse-journalist, travel around the world listening to and working with children. Our little studio mouse, Millicent,  was eager to meet such a famous fellow mouse.  (Coco even has his own blog!)  Here is a photo of Milicent surprising Coco, in hopes of getting an autograph.
You can go to Trevor Romain’s website here.  There are some videos on the left of this page which tell his story much better than I can.

When the girls were little, they attended St. Andrew’s Episcopal School, a school that held a chapel service every day.  Every few months, each child would take a turn acolyting (carrying the candles or the cross).  The school would let the moms and dads know when their children would be acolyting, so that they could attend.  Invariably, I would have a tight deadline on the day that one of the girls would be acolyting, but I would stop my work and zip down to school, grumpy and in a hurry.  I would quickly slip into the quiet little chapel.  Then, the children would begin to process to one of the familiar hymns, and they would sing it so loudly and semi-off-key that I couldn’t help but smile and get a little teary.  Then my own little gal would reverently carry out her acolyting duty looking straight ahead–solemnly, seriously and a tiny bit nervously. Then, just for a moment, she would turn my way with a tiny smile that said, “I’m glad you’re here.”  And, I would think, “It just doesn’t get any better than this.”  I always left chapel renewed and content.  And each of those tight deadlines was turned in right on time.

ART REVIEW: FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
The semi-functional and figurative ceramics created by three sisters during the decades preceding their formal educations are presented in a contemporary studio space perfect for observing the nuances of the collection, which causes one to ponder the cultural influences surrounding the sisters during their formative years.

Teehee, you just have to love a little artspeak every now and then. Here is one of my favorite gallery shows: the curator of this show (that would be me) has arranged the works of lumpy ceramics, which have been created by our three girls, in a linear presentation along the top of a studio bookshelf.  If you have lots of loving clay creations around your house, and don‘t know what to do with them, celebrate them in your own exhibition space!  You might even “rotate your show” as new additions arrive in backpacks and lunchboxes.  And, if you have some that are just too large to display, “catalogue” them … this is my subtle way of saying, “take pictures of them before you have to send them to pottery heaven.”   Below are some photos of the pieces that live in our permanent show, from which I find inspiration every day.

If you have a special way of displaying your children’s artwork, we’d love to hear about it – or see it!  You can email any photographs to share@cathyhecknurseryart.com, or tell us about it in a comment.

We recently had a fun brush with greatness.  That’s what we call it when we spy a movie star on the streets of New York.  But this time, we brushed with greatness right here in Austin, Texas. And we actually know her!  Anna Margaret Hollyman was in town with her very talented and smart movie makers, Lilianna Greenfield-Sanders (director/writer) and Rowan Riley (producer) to be a part of the Austin Film Festival’s screening of their film short, Adelaide.  Anna Margaret is Adelaide!
Their funny film is about a girl who creates medical emergencies to find love.  Not only is it cleverly written, but it is wonderfully portrayed, and that’s not just my prejudice speaking.  I am particularly fascinated with Anna Margaret’s lips.  There are several extreme close-ups of her, in which she is able to express a feeling or create a mood change very quickly with just the tiniest movement of her lips.  And the artist in me has to give two thumbs up to the beautiful art direction.  I love the way the film is bathed in vivid saturated colors.  The rich, creamy pepto-bismol pink, which accessorizes many of the scenes is bubblicious.  Even Adelaide’s fresh complexion glows with pinkness.  I might have to use this film as inspiration for a new collection … hmm, I think I’ll call it Adelaide Adorability.

So, if you have a chance to see this entertaining short film, do.  It has won Best Short Film at the 2009 Woodstock Film Festival, Best Narrative Short at the 2009 New Orleans Film Festival and the Best Short Film and Audience Award at the 2009 Gen Art Film Festival, just to name a few … the list goes on and on.
If you would like a little taste of our brush with greatness, click below to see the trailer.  If your spirits are low, it will definitely put you in the pink.

Don’t worry mom, we did not have a fire!
Lunch was over and I was heading up to the studio, when suddenly, I heard the sound of rushing water … unfortunately, it was coming from under my kitchen sink.  The next thing I knew, water was filling our kitchen.

I raced to the location of the geyser.  A pipe had broken and hot water was gushing everywhere.  I tried to turn the handle, but to no avail. I was afraid that I was trying to turn the knob in the wrong direction. “Righty Tighty, Lefty Loosey,” I kept saying … still it remained frozen.  So I called 911: “I am not having an emergency, but can you remind me what number I should call for a non-emergency emergency?” She told me that, actually, I was having an emergency and she would send the Fire Department over right away.

I was making dams out of old towels as fast as I could, when I heard the firetruck arrive.   The firefighters (now flood-stoppers) raced in, and with proper tools and strong muscles, turned off the spewing geyser.

If they had not arrived so quickly, we would have been swimming in our living room. And, as if that wasn’t grand enough, they procured large wet-vacs and long floor squeegees from their truck, and began to remove the gallons of water that had filled our kitchen and living room. Wow! I was amazed.  They didn’t stop until it was completely cleared of water and then they packed up their equipment and left like Superman after saving Metropolis. I began looking around at all the things which we would not have to replace because of the swift attention of our firefighters. And, I was grateful.

No matter how you cook it, or carve it, or smash it, October is the month of the great orange gourd. When huge cardboard crates appeared outside the Berkeley Bowl on the first of the month, I knew three things for sure: 1) that it was officially October 2) that the weather is about to be crisp and inspirational, and 3) that all craft stores and hobby shops and perhaps even my local grocery store will begin to smell very strongly of cinnamon potpourri.

Below are a few prints inspired by this great edible boulder: On the right, you’ll find a print work by Tetsuya Noda – one of my favorite Japanese artists living today and on the left, my homage to his later work, created back when I was in Chicago and particularly enamored with his aesthetic.

Happy October! (and if you live in a location where leaves are falling, I am officially envious)

The last time Julianna and I used sidewalk chalk was at least a decade ago, but as you might guess, the art form hasn’t changed all that much…

I was lucky enough to be able to visit my sister Jules in Virginia this past weekend, and we had a blast.  It was a good old-fashioned vacation for me: the beach, the bay, more McDonald’s than usual – AND a sidewalk chalk contest in Gloucester, VA.

Jules and I saw the sign for “Chalk Fest ‘09″ in the Old Dominion art department as she was giving me a tour and we thought, “What the heck!” (By the way, they have some amazingly cool letterpressed posters all over the place in there – one of their professors apparently just letterpresses announcements all the time…how fine is that!)

We woke up bright and early on Saturday and headed out to Gloucester, which appears to be everything you could want from small town America. (The festival took place on Main Street, of course.)  Julianna had had the foresight to drive us to the Dollar Tree the night before to pick up some sponges for grinding color in between the cracks in the cement – and since Chalk Fest happened to be held on asphalt, this was extremely helpful!  We set to work on this year’s theme “A Village View” at about 10 and didn’t stop – but for a boyscout-cooked hot-dog break – until 3, when all chalks had to be dropped.  Then we wandered Main Street for an hour sipping particularly saturated Italian sodas from the local cafe until the judge’s votes were in.  And we won first!  It was a bit surreal.  And very fun.  And very – well, sisterly.

So, if you’re feeling inspired, just go dig out that old bucket of chalk that I know is hiding somewhere between a dusty hose and Christmas decorations in the garage. Remedy the taupe-ness of the driveway!

If you want to feel happy, just head to the Farmer’s Market at the Ferry Building.  You will be surrounded by beautiful fresh produce and heavenly scents.  It’s not a frenetic-I-need-to-procure-now kind of market, but rather a take-your-time-to-touch-smell-and-taste kind of market. Lots of tasting!

Let’s just start with tomatoes, because Ellen and I LOVE tomatoes.  When I took French in high school (not sure why I did that in West Texas, but nevertheless I did) I wrote a little story about a character named Thomas Tomate.  I think he would have loved to have known all of these interesting tomates amies (tomato friends).

Above:  Colors in the market … colors for a kitchen collection?  Hmmmm.

Below:  More colors in the market … colors for a baby girl collection?  Hmmmm.

We ended our fun morning at the Market with THE BEST sandwich that I have ever eaten: a porchetta sandwich at the Roli Roti stand.  We wondered why the line was forming at 10 a.m. for lunch.  And then we knew!

The first indication that this was to be a great sandwich was when I watched the master carver use my sandwich bread to sop up the fatty pork juices from the carving of the previous sandwich. This was an excellent start! Then, after he put the tender white pork on the bread, he chopped up the crispy outer fat of the pork and placed it on top, then he slathered the rich caramelized onion reduction across the top and added some light airy greens and a sprinkle of sea salt.  And, all the while, our friendly chef smiled and chatted and seemed to get to know every person ordering.  Maybe it was because we had been standing in line for an hour, or maybe it was because we were on vacation and footloose and fancy-free … but that porchetta sandwich was an amazing work of culinary art!  It was pure heaven.

(I wish I could show you a pretty picture of the final masterpiece, but we accidentally ate it before we could take a picture of it.  Next time.)