Alma is my maternal great great aunt.
One night I was sitting with her – my eyes were tired and I’d stopped working for the evening, and was just being with her while watching some television.
Because I work at a table in front of the family room fireplace, even if I am not working I am usually in position to observe my work that is in progress from various angles and in a range of lighting and mood conditions. My family was having a funny conversation about the personality traits of ancestors that made each them so special in our memories.
We laughed about my grandfather Malachi, who grandmother called “Foxy.” There were gamblers who never worried about a thing, rebels who were hot for justice, church ladies with nylons knotted just below the knee, and quilters who sang as they sewed.
Beginning to play with small pieces of clay I found myself making flower petal and leaf patterns. I decided that Scylla needed a wreath. So, I made open flowers and buds, and berries clusters, in leaf beds that encircled her face. Petal by petal, one berry at a time, it was the sculptural equivalent of doodling, and she is so beautiful with her wreath.
Now, I need to uncover if the wreath is because aunt Alma was a gardener, or a fashionista.
For sure, she is a darling.