Tiny Hands

According to my spirit, it's imperative that I keep my hands busy. And this is how I've decided to do it.

As a child, I believed my stuffed toys had feelings.

Oooooh, I still do. I kiss my little Piglet on the snout every night before bed.

It was very important they were cherished, active participants in my kinderventures. Most of my free time was spent playing with my two brothers in the bedroom we shared with our menagerie of plush creatures. We read them stories, made them fly, and "fished" for them off the top of our bunk beds with crude poles made of sticks, yarn and drapery hooks. And my teddy bear, Ted (named after my father) was always eager to be squished into a backpack alongside a bag of fig newtons and a coloring book as we trekked into the wilderness of my Alaskan backyard.

Both of my teddy bears (though one was more like a teddy *cat*) had music boxes in their behinds--and when they finally broke from overuse, I cried many tears. We were visiting my grandparents in Rhode Island the summer of 1976 when Teddy Cat stopped playing his lullaby. My father was quick to run to the big nearby toy store to purchase Ted the Bear, thoughtfully boxed and wrapped in polkadot gift paper.

Here they are 38 years later:

As my own creations take shape, I feel as though I am producing a vessel for happy, kindred spirits in which to land---and, in turn, providing an opportunity for delight and friendship for those who choose to adopt them. It might sound kind of crazy, but that's exactly how it feels. I get very enthusiastic during the planning phase of this process, as i can feel the creature excitedly waiting to be born.

There is a powerful breakthrough moment, when their little soul suddenly emerges from the ether to greet me, and I LAUGH and have to say, "Hello!"out loud.

And i'm glad it's just us in my sewing room.

In February of this year, I made my first creature. It was for a silent auction to raise money for people with AIDS. Although it was hard for me to part with my little firstborn monster, I knew it was for a good cause----and also knew there were many more monsters to be realized.

Being an artist is a constant practice in letting go.  Not only of the things you make, but of the positive or negative feelings you might have about those things you're making.

You have to trust that someone else will recognize your heart in the work.

And rest assured in the knowledge that you can always make more.

I am hoping to help people smile and find a friend.

More to come.