The Long, Serpentine Journey to Myself
For as long as I can remember, creativity has played a central role in my life. At times, it was the sheer joy of expressing my creativity. At other times, it was because of the frustration and sadness that built as a result of not having the time or space to follow my creative passions.
As a small child, guided mostly by my mom, I took movement, dance and classical piano lessons. Later in my youth, I’d dabble with clay, paints, pastels, modern dance, cello, flute, guitar and theater arts. I’d spend time in school and community choirs, praised for my airy first soprano voice. My greatest joy was from involvement in anything creative, so I kept on practicing creativity.
Mom was a Julliard-trained pianist and singer who had a minor career singing 17th Century music in New York City before marriage and kids took up too much of her time to continue. I think, perhaps, she might have wished to continue. For most of her life, she did find time to participate in high-quality area choirs. I was very fortunate though to have so many opportunities to experience musical expression. Some were more joyful than others. I still recall (with some twitching) her hollering from the kitchen as I practiced my Bach Prelude in F, “No! That’s a B-flat!” whenever I missed that note. Ultimately, it became a private joke between us, but at the time, I wasn't so amused. I stopped playing piano when I was about fourteen. Instead, I taught myself to play folk guitar and a few popular tunes, and sang pop and folk music at the youth center, in the car or with my friends. I sang classical repertoire in various choirs, but musical theater and concerts with my friends were my favorite ways to express my musical side.
Dad didn’t have much impact on my creative life until I was in my twenties, and I saw his photography, taken with a Scanning Electron Microscope (“SEM”) of ordinary tiny objects, magnified to the nth degree. Later, after he remarried and moved out of New York City, he started turning wooden bowls. You can see examples of his work on my Art page. As an adult, seeing the forms of expression that my dad chose and excelled at have been my inspiration for pursuing artisanship in its many media.
Dad's photography, taken with a Scanning Electron Microscope (“SEM”). Ordinary tiny objects at extreme magnification.
It shouldn’t come as a surprise that I originally wanted to pursue a career in music. I didn’t have enough confidence in my voice to imagine I could be a singing star. But, I could hear how a song might sound in my head with the right strings and horns, with a driving bass or drum line. That ability screamed PRODUCER. And to become a producer, one had to discover recording artists. That led me to pursue positions at record labels Polygram, Suite Beat, A&M, I.R.S. and Charisma. Sadly, in the late 1970’s and early 1980’s women were not producers. So I settled for a life behind the scenes of some of the big artists of the late 1980’s and early 1990’s like Bon Jovi, Sting, Janet Jackson, Right Said Fred and Enigma. In my role at those companies, my job involved helping musical artists shape their album credits and combine it with artwork for commercial distribution. It was fun, but the misogyny in the music industry meant I would never make it up the corporate ladder as I wanted. After twelve years, I moved on from that career. And life being what it often is, I hung up my own creativity in favor of the almighty dollar. But still, the creative itch had to be scratched.
I took up making dollhouses and miniatures. I needle-pointed oriental rugs for my 1:12 scale Victorian homes. I knitted and crocheted (badly, but with stubborn grit), all the while aching for something more than singing in the car and unwearable hats and scarves. My dad had started woodturning, and there was something very compelling, but also very intimidating about it.
Then, on Veteran’s Day 2012, my husband and daughter took me to an event called Turning for the Troops, a day of turning wooden pens on small lathes that would then be sent to active servicemen and servicewomen serving abroad. I was hooked. At that point, I got a 1952 Shopsmith (the one machine you need for your small shop! Essentially, a woodshop transformer), and started perfecting my craft.
I made pen after pen, aggravating my husband with my limited desire to make anything else. By 2015, I’d started writing fiction and the pen-making synched up with writing and the writer community I became a part of. I honestly didn’t want to make almost anything else. My mind, however, had other ideas and I considered (briefly) starting a home based business for custom turned pens and handcrafted journals. It’s still something I may do in the future.
Making pens became a passion, though. I took commissions from the attorneys I worked with, writer friends and others by word of mouth. I traded pen-making for “heirloom wood” that came from trees felled on a family farm after 100 years or more of life. In one case, a friend in Iowa gifted me some heirloom walnut. I created 9 matching pens and had them laser inscribed with the names of all the cousins that descended from their common grandfather. I’m told those were treasured gifts.
I tried bowls, like my dad had made during his life, but I never had enough patience. Pens and other small objects were simple, relatively quick and made a real impression on friends, family and colleagues. And, besides, I loved it.
For information about this program, visit Turn for the Troops.
