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It’s election eve in the United States in the year 2020 and I think it is fair to say that everyone is anxious about the outcome of the election. I’ve tried, on thecraftylawyer, to focus on art and how it brings us together, but I’ve never been exactly quiet about my political beliefs. After all, […]
One of the craftysisters was born, many years ago (ahem!, you know who you are) on Easter weekend. The three oldest kids, me included, stayed the weekend at different relatives–and we each received very different Easter baskets. Among other things, these Easter baskets were store bought, wrapped in cellophane and full of fancy chocolate bunnies. But my mom had other ideas. In addition to the generous baskets from assorted aunts and uncles, we came home to plastic fireman’s hats filled with Easter grass and candy. As I recall, that was the start of my mom’s quest to find unusual Easter baskets, and it is possible I’m both collapsing and distorting history, but well, that’s how I remember it. Thereafter our Easter baskets were never the same –one year Mom and Dad painted and decorated coffee cans and turned them into banks; another year, we got beach pails. I’m pretty sure L’eggs plastic eggs and strawberry baskets had their day as well. Today, my mom still makes little Easter things for all the kids and grandkids, and you never quite know what the inspiration or the outcome will be.
That kind of Easter basket resilience comes in handy now, when you can’t just run out to the store for last minute items. Covid-19 has reshaped the world, and this will be a somber holiday season, but if you have little ones at home, or are still a kid at heart, a quick little Easter basket can bring joy to someone’s day. Here are 4 Fast and Furious baskets for you to make for Easter, May Day, or just because.
The Deli Delight. Whole Foods takeout containers of any size can be used for basket number one, but you can also have some fun decorating one of the 16 oz size containers. I used washi tape, but this plastic does well with sharpies, so you can also draw your own designs. For fun, I made the handle out of the lid, carefully cutting along the inside edge, stopping about a quarter inch from the middle and picking the cut back up on the other side of the lid, being careful, of course to leave space at the opposite end as well. Repeat your cut about 1/2 inch in from the first cut, but this time as you approach the middle, turn your scissors at a right angle, cutting across the middle until you have cut out a 1/2 circle. Repeat and bring your two handles up and together, wrap with ribbon or yarn.
The berry little basket. Plastic berry containers, whether they are clear or woven still make sweet baskets. You can cut a cardstock handle, carefully tape it inside the basket and place crumpled tissue paper inside
The Glamour Bag. This isn’t particularly glamorous, but I learned how to make this years ago from an article about giftwrapping in Glamour magazine! You can make a useful little gift bag out of any lightweight paper. Good to know all year round: A.start with a rectangular piece of paper (my example is the standard 8 1/2 x 11 sheet and gently fold the long sides towards each other. Rather than letting the edges meet, bring one edge about 1/4 to 1/2″ from the other edge and make a sharp crease. at the fold 
B. Pick up the wider edge and fold it back over the edge, crease, and then glue or tape the edge together. You now have a sleeve. 
C. Make a fold in your sleeve about 1/3 of the way up, lift up the bottom and then flatten both sides, making a square of two triangles.
D. Bring the point of the two triangles together, and secure the ends with glue or tape (the heavier your paper the more you need to make sure that you give it a good going over with adhesive.
E. Gently open your bag, fill, and then bend the top edge over, securing with stickers, tape, or a pretty cutout of flowers from a magazine.
There you go. You are done. Now you just have to hope you haven’t eaten the emergency stash of chocolate you squirreled away!
For the last fifteen years we have been decorating for Halloween. What started out as various riffs on Harry Potter, such as two cardboard figures playing Quidditch, quickly became far more elaborate takes on pop culture and politics. We alternate between political themes on election years and funny things in the off years. Our daughter, now off at college, came up with one of our best ever themes- 2017’s -The Horror of College Admissions. You can read all about it in this piece in the Chronicle of Higher Education.
But this year is an election year, and a critical one at that. After almost two years of pandering to racism and fear, we felt that President Trump deserved a starring role in this year’s offering, our take on the classic Halloween thriller, Nightmare on Elm Street. But this is the CraftyLawyer blog, after all, so in addition to showing you the fruits of our labor, I thought I would share a few tips on building your own sensational Halloween displays. Here are a few of the frequently asked questions we get asked each year.
How do you build your figures?
The crafty husband shines here. He came up with a way to make an armature for about any kind of figure–PVC pipes fitted together to make stick figures. He slides the pipes over long garden stakes to keep them standing– rain, sleet or hail (all of which we had this weekend!), drops the costumes over the forms, and then uses safety pins and T-pins to keep all the clothes together. He stuffs the inert shapes with cotton batting and suddenly they look like three-dimensional beings. The PVC pipe is also just the right size to allow for foam display heads to be eased on to the top. Sometimes we paint them (see the Statue of Libery) and sometimes, especially for political figures, we buy masks (see Donny J. Krueger).
Do you start planning months in advance?
Ah, no. Sometimes inspiration strikes early, but most of the time we settle on an idea in late September, order what supplies we need, and then frantically put everything together in the days before the big reveal, to use HGTV speak.
The yard a few days before Halloween
Where do you keep all the stuff?
We literally have a closet under the stairs (appropriate given how many Harry Potter vignettes we’ve done) in our basement. We call it the Halloween vault. Some scary creatures hang from hooks on the walls, and we have a row of foam mannequin heads that lodge in nicely between the stair boards and a coat rod. I’m afraid we’ve scared a few of our daughter’s friends with that set up over the years!
This has got to be expensive!
We use and reuse till we can’t use anymore. We actually threw away some mannequin heads this year that were probably about ten years old. We rely on foam insulation board–the Pink Panther boards–to build a lot of our scenes (the Tardis from a Dr. Who display, multiple gravestones over the years). We buy suits and other props at thrift stores. This year’s $5 headboard came from one of my favorite reuse places–Community Forklift in Edmonston, Maryland. We donate back those items still in good shape. I also keep my eye out for staples–lights, bases, canvasses. This year I scored some great deals at Michael’s with wooden boxes and message boards that can be used over and over–and for 70 per cent off they were cheaper and easier than hand painting all of our signs, as I usually do. We do buy masks–we have most of the presidential candidates for the last few elections (although someone stole John McCain in 2008). And we made one great big purchase for 2016’s Winter Is Coming/Game of Thrones display–I mean you have to have a dragon. Trump was a White Walker in that one.
Sometimes you have to splurge–you can’t have Game of Thrones (or a democracy) without a dragon!
Glowing blue eyes courtesy of battery operated lights
What is the most critical part of your display?
Besides the awesome figures and a sense of humor, it has to be lights. Look now and after Christmas for deals on floodlights, multi color prism lights, extension cords and battery operated lights. Good lighting makes everything more menacing, more enticing, and crisper, plus ensures that people see all the little jokes we put into our display. For Halloween, some strobe lights and flickering flame lights are great effects and can usually be picked up after the holiday for 1/2 off or more. So, yes, I guess we do plan ahead some–but I’ve always been a hunter-gatherer when it comes to after holiday sales, so it comes naturally. I do try to buy things, though, that have plenty of uses and can be hauled out for more than one event (flicker flame lights are a great special effect in your fireplace when you can’t or don’t want to light a fire!).
Lighting makes all the difference!
Now, on to the show! Uncle Sam is dreaming. He sees an evil creature threatening Lady Liberty. But in this movie, as in the original, if someone dies in your nightmare, they die forever. Will America Wake Up–Before It’s Too Late?
The crafty daughter has been craving a good pumpkin chocolate chip muffin recently and I knew I had the key ingredient–a can (in my case, three cans) of pumpkin in the pantry. I love the idea of pumpkin food–bars, soup, muffins–and I dutifully buy at least one can every year as Thanksgiving nears, but I rarely act on my pumpkin impulse. I’m not sure why. Canned pumpkin is inexpensive, good for you, and an easy ingredient to use, but I’ve just never followed through on my good intentions.
Before I could make muffins, however, I had to first do a little internet searching, as in–how long does canned pumpkin last (the good news 5 years), so I was covered in that respect. And I had to find a recipe!
Ah, I thought, perhaps this is why I never follow through on my pumpkin cooking plans–I realized we had no true legacy of pumpkin recipes in my family, or in my husband’s family. Yes, pumpkin pies made an obligatory appearance at Thanksgiving, but I’m pretty sure most were purchased or made straight off the Libby’s can, and I just couldn’t remember doing much with pumpkin otherwise.
I have a couple of go-to baking books at home: Dorie Greenspan’s Baking: From My Home to Yours and Cook’s Illustrated’s Baking Illustrated, but this felt like a job for one of my go-to internet sources: the Smitten Kitchen. Not only did I find a pumpkin muffin recipe, see below, but a couple of good insights a) pumpkin bread can handle a whole can of pumpkin b) avoid pumpkin pie filling like the plague (all sugar and spice, but not good for you) and c) there’s a lot of pumpkin hate out there, courtesy of the pumpkin spice-everything craze.
Unlike Kai Rysdaal, the host of NPR’s Marketplace, a well-known hater of pumpkin spice lattes, I don’t have anything against the flavor. I’m not crazy about the idea of pumpkin spice Pringles or M & M’s, but in the coffee world, a little pumpkin spice is nice.
In the muffin world, however the notion of pumpkin spice is a bit more meaningful, as pumpkin on its own is kind of bland. It perks up considerably with a nice mix of cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, and cloves–the common ingredients of pumpkin pie spice–but the critical addition is really chocolate chips.
Smitten Kitchen’s recipe does not include chocolate chips, and I guess I could have hunted for a different recipe, but I trust the baking know-how of this site, so I just did the logical thing and dumped a whole bag of chocolate chips
into the mix at the end. I also used the whole can of pumpkin, trusting in the advice that the muffins could take it.
The results? Muffins so good that the crafty daughter begged me to make them again, telling me that they may just be her new favorite muffin. Maybe they will become your favorite, as well! Enjoy!
When I started this blog a few years back, one of the first things I wrote about was the pleasures of curbside shopping. I still get a thrill from discovering a discarded treasure, but today’s story is about the other side of the equation. Like the Cryptkeeper, I will now share with you one of my darker and more frustrating journeys into junk! I like to think of it as Tales From the Cupboard–The Armoire Affair.
One beautiful fall afternoon I suddenly saw an amazing treasure on the side of the road. A giant armoire free for the taking. Its primary virtue– its sheer capacity to hold things– would also prove to be its primary fault. The thing was big, it was heavy, it was a solid piece of furniture–and impossible to move by myself. But it was also PERFECT! I had been looking for a large hanging cupboard for the crafty daughter’s room, as her tiny closet could not hold her love of dresses and skirts. This piece had been painted white, had that shabby chic feel to it, and had a shelf, a long rack for clothes, a full mirror and a tie rack. It was the score of the decade.
Assuming, of course, that I could get it home. I don’t have a truck, most of my friends have back problems, and my immediate family is not inclined to encourage my junking habits, so I would have to pay to move it. But, I figured, it was worth it for such a great piece. Unfortunately, no junk haulers were available. I couldn’t even find a hand truck to rent and time was ticking away. The longer the armoire sat on the curb the more likely it was that someone else would come along and snatch it away.
I went home and rummaged through our meager tool shed ( our basement) and found a very small wheeled base that attached to a large bucket. I ran the few blocks to the armoire, gently tipped it on its side so that it would balance on the base, and saw it promptly slide ride off. Several scrapes and bruises later I managed to balance it on the base only to find that I couldn’t possibly guide it down the street on my own. Fortunately, a group of painters took pity on me. First one came over to help, but given the size and precarious nature of my treasure, he called over two of his buddies. The five minute walk to my house took more like twenty minutes. I swear that all three of them grew increasingly fearful as they noticed that every house on my block had steps leading to the yard and then more steps at the front porch.
I couldn’t do that to them, however, since they were refusing to take any money for helping. Instead, I raided the fridge for beers and soda and wished them well. One guy said it was his good deed for the day. If only I had realized what would come next, I would probably have wished that they had refused to help!
Mind you, I was excited—I ran into the house, got some old painting tarps and draped them over the steps and began the slow process of inching the armoire onto my property. Angle, twist, turn upside down, angle, twist, turn right side up, sliding and pulling and grunting and groaning till I got the beast onto our front walk. After showing off my prize to my neighbors( I was really really proud of myself) I repeated the process, using the tarp and some muscles that I didn’t know I had to inch and turn and position the armoire onto the porch. I knew that I couldn’t get it into the house and up the steep flight of stairs to our second floor without professional help, so I situated it nicely next to the front door.
That was October of last year. My husband thought my treasure was ugly. My daughter pretended at first to like it but confessed to my mother, who was visiting at Halloween, that she hated it but didn’t want to hurt my feelings. I came to the sad realization that I would have to let my treasure go.
And here is the dark side of junking. Part of the pleasure I derived from the armoire, and virtually every other find of its kind, is the story of discovery. I loved that armoire because my efforts to get it home made a good story, something that became more and more a sort of personal quest with each retelling. So no way was I just going to pay to have someone hall it off. That would mean my treasure cost me money, and my personal quest was a defeat
I tried to sell it. I tried to give it away. No one wanted it. And the armoire stayed on our front porch all winter long. I tried again in the summer– nothing. Finally, in August, on our anniversary, to surprise my husband, I reversed my slow and painful process of easing the armoire to a new place. Down the steps, across the yard, and down the steps again, to the curb. I knew someone would want it. But it sat there for days and no one took it. We could tell that a few people considered it– we would come home to find the doors open or the armoire moved ever so slightly, but still no takers. A friend suggested someone who refinished furniture. She was interested but wanted pictures
This is when it gets ugly. I dutifully took pictures from all angles but in doing so stepped back right on to a small manhole cover ( a water main access cover) which gave way,plunging me into the hole. My right leg was in the ground up to my thigh, the metal cover was jammed between the edge of the hole and my leg, while my left leg was turned at a funny angle on my knee. I was stuck, I was in pain, and it was all because of the blasted armoire.
I got myself out of the hole with no major damage–just muddied and bloodied and ultimately all for naught, as the potential recipient declined the armoire as too big and too much work to refinish. My very sore knees were a reminder each time I went up and down stairs that I had failed. I needed to admit defeat and pay to haul the beast away. Just in case, however, I did a curb alert under free stuff on Craig’s list. I mean there had to be someone else in the city who saw the beauty in this beast. More days passed, and then I received a text asking about the armoire. When I got home, someone else had taken it. In the end not one but two people saw the armoire as an object of desire. 
Vindication! Jubilation! But I have learned my lesson. I will not haul something home without a specific plan. I will not haul something home if I can’t get rid of it easily. I will tell myself that nothing is free if you must pay to haul away. And, I will not become so enamored of a story that it blinds me to the ludicrous fact that I had an armoire on my front porch for 11 months.
But you know, just the other day I saw some vintage filing cabinets on the side of the road. I bet they might fit in my car and therefore none of the above applies. Right?
I had a few hours to myself in Santa Fe recently and was simply overwhelmed by the beauty of it all–the people, the landscape, and the amazing art. Naturally, I gravitated towards the jewelr…
Source: Stopping and Shopping in Santa Fe-Jewelry and Tradition Combine at the Palace of the Governors
I had a few hours to myself in Santa Fe recently and was simply overwhelmed by the beauty of it all–the people, the landscape, and the amazing art. Naturally, I gravitated towards the jewelry, but in a town filled with handmade jewelry, how do you decide where to go? Locals and guidebooks alike recommended the Vendors Program at the Palace of Governors for authentic jewelry sold by Native American artists themselves. Prices range from $10 to the many thousands, but the chance to talk to the makers themselves and hear their stories is priceless.
Each morning the vendors arrive on the main historic plaza of Santa Fe to claim a spot under the shade of the long portal (porch) of the Palace of Governors. No tables or fancy placards, just blankets abd tarps with jewelry everywhere. People encourage you to touch and try on, and many vendors have examples of the raw gems and shells that they carefully, painstakingly transform into beautiful jewelry. If you see something you like, but can’t decide, find out the vendor’s schedule–tomorrow may be another day, but there’s no guarantee your favorite vendor (or piece) will be there!
There’s a rich history and tradition to the pieces you will see at the Vendor’s Program. Many of the vendors have been making jewelry for decades; some reflect traditional designs and techniques, others put a modern spin on their pieces, incorporating new textures, shapes, and items for sale. I was fascinated by the beautiful and intricate designs of Mrs. Verdie Mae Lee,
who gently and quietly told me about learning her craft at her father’s knee. Even her turquoise has a history–many of the stones have been in her collection for years, and they reflect the color and quality of the past.
Turquoise, although ubiquitous, is not all the same; ask about the source of the stones you see. Many of the most famous mines, with the rarest and most beautiful of colors, are long closed. Consequently, prices will vary significantly based on the color, quality, shape, and availability of the stone. Some vendors cut 
and shape the stones themselves, which also increases cost and value. There is also an abundance of other semi-precious stones as well as various sea shells –it is amazing what a talented artist can do with a piece of abalone or conch shell. In addition to hand-hammered silver, brass and copper pieces, you will see plenty of stones set in hand-made bezels, and marvelous shaped pieces in which stones are sliced cut and polished, glued together, and then magically transformed by grit and elbow grease into smooth, seamless objects.
For a more modern take on tradition, I found Miriam Ortiz’s happy circle of life designs fun and elegant at the same time. 
The National Museum of Contemporary Art must think so, too, as I stumbled upon her pieces in their gift shop as well!. Her textured pieces are an effort to capture the look of very old Navajo designs, she says, but in new ways.
The artists at the market are also in the forefront of protecting their legacy. 
Leonard Paquin has been making jewelry for more than thirty years, returning to his father’s craft after doing many other things in his life.
He was part of the group that helped to organize the market, establishing bylaws that hold vendors to a strict standard. He proudly explained that many of the same principles he drafted were ultimately turned into law and are followed by other artisan’s groups around the country. And he offered for sale beautifulpieces, just 
right for my husband and daughter (shh, they are supposed to be for Hannukah!)(oh, well–I couldn’t wait!)
I also found the inventive bead wrapping technique
of George and Grace Ann Herrera a fun and affordable treat. Look for her signature white bead in each design.
Finally, on my way back to the hotel, I stumbled upon Lewallen and Lewallen Jewelry and had a delightful time talking to Laura, the owner. She and her late father, Ross Lewallen, created a wealth of whimsical silver beads and charms, and the incredibly unusual Ascent bracelets–a mix of the practical (climbing rope) and the fancy (stones, gems, and beads). As we talked about our mutual love of jewelry, Laura told me the story of some of her handmade beads, including the EWOP, or Everything Works Out Perfectly, bead, a motto I thought everyone in my family could use. Her dad used the
phrase in his spiritual teachings, and it just struck me as a great way to remember to take a breath and enjoy what comes your way. Laura also let me peek inside her studio–thanks to Syd, whom I believ she called a singing cowboy as well as an artist and jeweler, for showing me around!
The generosity of spirit and the pride in craft so evident among the people I spoke with reminded me of why I love making jewelry. People put a bit of themselves, their history, and their traditions into their work. And with so many rich traditions to choose from in Santa Fe, it’s no wonder that I can’t wait to go back to see and do more.
My daughter got 4th place in an archery competition the other day. Fourth place is good, but disappointing when you are just one point shy of third place and qualifying for the national tournament. It was especially poignant because my child, who is not materialistic, dislikes odds and ends, and isn’t particularly sentimental about stuff, said wistfully that it would be nice to just once earn a trophy to have something to show for all the hard work. (The picture above is one of the ubiquitous soccer medals and trophies still in the house from her childhood).
My brain immediately flashed to other trophies and awards I have made for people over time. I could, I thought, make her something like the “You still bowl me over” trophy I made for my husband for our anniversary a few years ago. Or I could make her some kind of archery medal, crafted from all my jewelry in the basement. Or I could take the top of one of those Simply Orange juice containers (which are great bases for making small trophies or displays) and glue some cute things on top of it to make her a special trophy. I could pull one of the many amethyst crystals we have (leftover from decorating her bat mitzvah dinner) and make a little sign that said “You rock.”
But I didn’t. It occurred to me that this was one time where homemade wouldn’t do. Now mind you, homemade rules in our house. We bake our cakes and pies from scratch,
do elaborate handmade Halloween displays each year,
and every corner of our home is crammed with craft supplies.
Halloween costumes, in particular, were handmade (even when I didn’t want them to be. There was the year that Rebecca wanted to be Kim Possible and there were many many Kim Possible costumes available and I was desperate to just buy one and be done with it, but Rebecca wanted Kim’s battle suit, which just couldn’t be bought. Ultimately, it turned out great, but I probably wouldn’t have done it if she hadn’t expressed her clear preference for homemade, as in “Mom, I want you to make this for me because ours are better!”
Sometimes, however, that cheap plastic trophy can’t be duplicated. Yes, years from now it would have ended up in a box somewhere in the attic or in the bottom of a landfill, but right at this moment, it represented an intangible made concrete. Proving to yourself and your peers that you can do it, your are WORTHY, you know what you are doing–all of that stuff that is so deeply felt when you are a teenager once in a while requires outside validation in the form of a trophy or a ribbon or the top score on a test. At that point it isn’t about being good or talented or proficient; instead, it is answering one of those deep questions that burn within–do I, can I measure up?
My daughter is fantastic and talented and skilled. And she knows that she has much to contribute. She loves the pure feeling of calm and determination that comes from aiming and letting her arrow fly. But I can’t fault her for wanting a little statue that says, “hey, you did good!” And I can’t duplicate that particular one, because it is deeply tied to a particular moment, and contest, and time and place that won’t be repeated. Moreover, there were only three trophies per category–three high school girls; three trophies. That was it. And as with commodities everywhere, the scarcity makes the reward that much more desirable. So we had a good lunch and a long talk and she got some high fives and some hugs and we all moved on. She will remember that, too, I hope, and know she is loved.
We like to think we can make everything better for our kids, whether it is with a hug or a shoulder to cry on, chocolate cake, or even a homemade trophy, but sometimes, we can’t. Being sad and facing disappointment are part of growing up. Sometimes a homemade trophy is the best thing in the world, but sometimes it just says we are trying too hard to substitute or supplant an emotion that must be faced. I guess knowing when to make that call will always be part of parenting, whether your tools of the trade are your shoulders, your arms, or your crafty hands.
Like so many people, I was excited to learn that an old “new” book by Harper Lee would come out this summer, followed the growing controversy between Lee’s family and publisher, and then, ultimately, hesitated to read the book upon learning that it portrayed an Atticus who had become a racist in his old age. I asked friends whether I should read the book, lest it tarnish my image of Atticus, the moral and upright lawyer who defended an innocent African American accused of rape in To Kill A Mockingbird.
But I couldn’t turn my back on the fact that this was a chance to peep inside Harper Lee’s complex mind; to see how she imagined the future of characters I loved so much. I still remember the furtive strains of the opening credits of the movie, back when they showed movies at 10:30 pm after the news, drawing me out of my bedroom just off the living room. I remember my mom didn’t have the heart to send me back to bed, as this was just such a good story. I also remember my surprise, and unfolding delight, when I read the book a few years later and realized that the story was so much more than the events portrayed in the movie. We grew up with Scout, wondered with, and loved Atticus because he was always fair, always right, and always there.
So, I’ve read Go Set a Watchman now, and I’m glad I did. Just as we saw Atticus the man through Scout’s eyes in her childhood, we experience her despair as she comes back to a Maycomb, and a family, that isn’t as she remembers it. She’s out of place, disgusted, and certain that she can never love these people again. But then some things happen, and, without giving away the ending, she begins to understand that Atticus is no longer an icon, but he is still her father, and he still helped her become the woman she is today.
As a novel, To Kill a Mockingbird is the superior book. Go Set a Watchman, so the story goes, was Lee’s first submission and it was too rough and unformed–the editors urged her to go back and develop the characters more. The seeds of To Kill a Mockinbird are all over the text–some paragraphs even made their way into the better book and other things that are just passing references become full-blown chapters in Mockingbird. Watchman is more of an internal dialogue which at the time might have served as both an accusation against and an apologia for Southern whites who opted out of the civil rights movement.
Now, I think it probably is best read as a different coming of age novel. There is that moment (not counting the teenage years), when you realize that you passionately, fundamentally disagree with your parents and it shakes you to the ground (mom, you are one of my loyal readers, don’t worry, it happened so long ago that it is ancient history). I can only say that Scout’s family anticipates that moment, encouraging Scout to embrace who she is.
Do they love her enough to change their position? To change their ways? Who knows. Believe me, there is some pretty awful, disappointing stuff in Go Set a Watchman. But this is a novel that can only be really powerful for those of us who love Scout, and Atticus, and Uncle Jack. It challenges you to ask how far you will go to understand the people you love in all their imperfections. 
This is said best towards the end of the book, when Uncle Jack is encouraging Scout to move back to Maycomb, Alabama from her home In New York City. Scout retorts “Uncle Jack, I can’t live in a place that I don’t agree with and that doesn’t agree with me.” Eventually, Jack tells her, “The time your friends need you is when they’re wrong, Jean Louise. They don’t need you when they are right.”
And that is when I started to cry.
I have been making collages for years and years. It probably started when I was a kid, when I would make dummy newspapers, magazines, and once even a sewing pattern, that combined pictures and text and silly headlines that I made up for presents.
But my serious adult collaging began when I was a law clerk in Chicago. A friend was taking the bar exam and I wanted to send her something fun and distracting. I was flipping through a magazine that featured a story on barware called “Stocking the Bar” and I found myself obsessively looking for the word bar in everything I could find. The resulting collage was a search and find–instead of “Where’s Waldo?” it was “Where’s the Bar?”– with pictures of wheel BARrows, Ellen BARkin, BARns, and so forth. Try your hand below
Passing the Bar–a distraction for my friends while they studied
Many such collages followed, decorating wedding invitations and birth announcements or simply celebrating, like so:
When my nephew, Theo, was born over a Thanksgiving holiday, my husband’s whole family joined me in making a collage for the new parents. We had just been to a bunch of antique stores, and I picked up some old magazines from the forites to use in the collage. The difference was stunning–the crazy old ads, the textures, and colors brought the collage to a new height, and I was hooked on repurposing the old and new together.
Fast forward to my previous job and perplexity about what to do for birthdays. First, I made some birthday collages, but I wasn’t sure I really knew everyone well enough to make things personal. I brought in a small IKEA mirror, a pile of magazines, scissors, sponge brushes, and Mod Podge and convinced my team to start collaging. As one friend said, she thought I was nuts, but the minute she started flipping through magazines, snipping headlines and images to create something new, she was hooked. In the 5 1/2 years I was there, collages became a team building event, a going away present, and most recently, a party activity.
This time it was my turn for the going away party, and to my surprise and delight, my friends and colleagues threw a work party that included a “decoupage room.” It was great fun to watch the broader staff of our organization sit down and start cutting and pasting. 
Another friend who had never participated in our collage ritual said that she loved it–and was going to do it with her daughter. Several other people talked about how peaceful it felt to just do some art as a break from work. And yes, several people (I am talking about you, Walter) made fun of us, but sat down and did it anyway. My friend, Wendy, who organized the decoupage activity, enthusiastically explained the steps–create a background, find words and images that make you think of thecraftylawyer, and when we have enough, arrange and plan the order, layering images and text over each other, sandwiching it all together with mod podge. The results were fabulous and heartwarming.
And the thing that made me the happiest? Seeing a group of wonderful, intelligent, but usually very serious people, let a bit of art guide their day and making something beautiful in the process. It is proudly hanging in my new office
thecraftylawyer 