After my mother died, I inherited her cedar chest which was full of things from family members deemed important enough to save and pass on. I’m continually fascinated by the odds and ends of what has remained. So much of it is such a mystery, and is left to my imagination. As I go deeper, I pull out an odd assortment of random possessions, such as an ancient cardboard assortment of black snaps for making clothing, the much used Ouija Board and a small booklet called: Text Book of Osteopathy from the Standpoint of Mechano-Therapy, copyright 1910.
One of the most precious findings: a string of painted eggshells– still intact and whole. The eggs have delicately painted flowers on them and there is a ribbon that connects them. One egg has Easter 1906 painted on it, although Easter is misspelled. Another egg has the name of Robert on it.
As a child, I remember being fascinated by these magical treasures and asking my mother for their story. She didn’t know the mystery, so we would just put them back into her grandfather’s trunk that lived in our dirt cellar.
These fragments of family myth and mystery, have inspired me once again to pick up my camera and other art supplies, in a way that I haven’t done in many years. Art is my personal way of exploring the creative mystery of living.
First published March 14, 2010