The forming of Vintage Resurrections first started back when I was doing another blog. Some of you might remember my writings and rants over a Tales From The Trenches of Parenting. But writing about the family and it's up's and downs became – quite frankly – boring. There is only so much you can write about kids tantrums and the issues of married life cause a ba-ZILLION people are doing it already all over the world. The final straw came when I started “writing” about other companies products in order to make a buck off the blog.
It was time to close that chapter of my life's journey.
But through my blog I found a style of creating that seem to capture my attention much more than letting everyone else know that my daughter was still sleeping in my bed at 4 years old, and couldn't figure how to get her out yet.
It was finding a site called Pure-n-Lovely (now known as The Handmade Home). I was flipping through Craigslist when my eye caught her furniture and then ultimately her website. The brain started flipping back to when I was younger and want to jump into the field of art. It was only because of certain family members and “friends” in my life for those formitable years that told me I couldn't do that, or wouldn't make it, or it was stupid, and blah, blah, blah. It was the reason I wandered for most of those crucial years of my life after high school. Knocking someone off their center has dire conciquences in the future.
Lest I know it at the time, my first blog was my unconcisous “shadow” making that creative door open back up for me in my old lady years. You'll have to read up on Carl Jung to understand the shadow. Think of it as God's hand knocking you in the direction you should be going. Some also refer it to the Karmic 2-by-4 up the side of the head!
I eventually got in contact with Jamin over at The Handmade Home and traded them an old vanity (now I wish I didn't, LOL), for a couple of pieces of furniture she did. I got them home and literally stared at them for a couple of weeks trying to examine how she did what she did. She had a degree from Auburn University, I didn't, and I didn't have time to get one in a couple of months of time.
Time for “Google University” online courses!
Of course my kids and hubs thought I was on some honorable hobby again (i.e., my first blog), and had little patience after a few more weeks of research into what I ultimately started doing. That was back in April of 2011. By June, I was ready to go!
Fast forward to now... I had a revelation while working on a Steampunk/Industrial Vintage bookcase for my son. As I was cutting metal in two for some of the pieces on this thing, I kept hearing my Grandfather Wiley instruct me how to cut it without setting my hair or nearby wood on fire from the giant sparks immittingly all over the place. I actually heard my self answer “Yes Sir” outloud to him! I swear he was there right beside me.
I suddenly realized who had been my mentors/my teachers for what I do now..... My grandparents. See, my Grandmother Wiley was an artist who was quite good in the way of watercolors and pastels. She also crotcheted those intricate pearl things on doillies and linens that only the patience of God could give her to do. I have several that she has given me that are gently stored and no one dares to touch without my approval.
My grandfather was a carpenter. He even built the cabinets in the houses of the community I grew up in; everyone knew him there. He was quite the farmer as well! I remember him getting up before dawn for his chores and in the process, commanding the attention of every animal on that farm as if he had personally hypnotized them himself into following his every move while he worked. Old MacDonald was nothing compared to my grandfather!
My dad took us there almost every Sunday and it was a must on Christmas Day. That farm was the most magical place of my childhood. I never realized it until that moment that I had actually paid attention to what tmy grandparents were doing there. It was the energy that I was drawing on when I nail each piece of wood or with each stroke of paint I made.
The unconcisous mind had actually absorbed what I observed at that farm and it was coming out as if I had done this all along in my life. It's that feeling you have when you realized that you are really home again. I thanked my grandparents, then I cried wishing they could be with me on this journey, but knew they were watching me nonetheless. I thanked God for helping me recognize the gifts he gave me and apologized as well, for not using them until now.
So, with my grandparents in tow, a slew of Annie Sloan Chalk paint, and rows of brushes and tools, I'm on a new journey. I'm not going to claim everything I make will be golden or even liked! I just hope that some of you will come along and offer advice, praise, jeers, or cheers as I share what I make for my home and for some of you.