A Voice from the past . . .
The last time I sent a sent out a Blog post was November of 2021. I had a draft for the next issue which started with the photo below. I was doing quite a bit of walking around town at that time, taking lots of photos, and posting them on Facebook and on my Blog. This fellow lived nearby but that was 5 years ago so I have no idea if he is still hanging in there or has gone on to the Great Donkey Pasture in the sky. Either way, I Love the look.
Unfortunately, that particular time was the beginning of the end of my walks around town due to a knee and hip issue. So ... I stopped writing the Blog and started concentrating on my Newsletter.
A while back I started including stories about my life and the people in it, in my Newsletter. Stories about those that have come and gone, and those who have stuck with me on my particular journey. I figured that if people were interested, they would read what I wrote, and if they weren't they'd skip past the stories and, hopefully just enjoy my work. What I noticed though, is that it was taking me a lot longer to get the Newsletter out because I didn't have a story written (or finished) to include. Since the original idea behind the Newsletter was to showcase the latest pieces in my Art and jewelry, I've decided instead to use this Blog for the stories. (And maybe an occasional piece of my art and/or my jewelry). This 'should' do two things. One, get my Newsletter out sooner 😊 and two, keep the stories separate allowing those that are not interested in them to not have to work their way through the stories in order to see the Art.
This is an older piece. I'm going to guess that quite a few people reading this may not have a clue where the title comes from. If you don't, I suggest asking Prof. Google about Sgt. Joe Friday and his sidekicks. They fought crime in the 50's and 60's on the radio and TV. Most of the stories were based on real crime in the L.A. area but it was all soooo tame compared to what we see today.
(Although credited to him, Sgt. Joe Friday evidently never
said these exact words.)
This story should probably be in 3 parts, but I’ll just
start here and see where I wind up.
At the age of 40 I had a mid-life crisis. I decided to go back to school. I enrolled at The Academy of Art College in
San Francisco which had a joint program with the
University of San Francisco, a Jesuit College, also in S.F. All
Art related classes went through the Academy, all other classes, all the
basics, reading, writing and ‘rithmetic went through the University, but all classes, were taught at the Academy. Upon
graduation you received a joint diploma from both schools. I have no idea if they still do that
nowadays, but it was a perfect solution for me at the time. When I decided to ‘go for it’ I couldn’t
decide what I wanted my major to be.
Interior Design, which was one of my main interests; Writing, which I
loved; or as an Art major. We took a
family vote. My kids thought I should go
for Interior Design. Afterall, ‘Mom’ is
always moving furniture around. Which, much to the chagrin of my husband Glen, I still do today. (He’s not a big fan of change.) Actually, neither was hubby #1, but he traveled quite often for work, so I had plenty of time to move things
around while he was gone, and in those days, I didn't have to ask for help. He was always
pretty good about it except when he’d come home late at night from a trip,
didn’t turn on the lights because he didn’t want to wake anyone up, and the
couch was no longer where he thought it was. 😣 He could get a little touchy
then. And, when not moving things around in our house, I’d be helping friends
and neighbors to rethink their homes (after being asked, of course!).
My husband John thought I should go for my writing. (Maybe he thought that would stop me from always moving the furniture around?) I loved to write and often made-up stories
and fun poems to read to the kids around our campfires. I could tell you about 'Casey Calloo who lived in the Zoo and carried his house on his hiney', or the travels of 'Henry the Leaf'. The kids really liked Henry because he traveled all over and had exciting adventures. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of sending Henry into a publishing company to see if they might be interested in publishing him as a children's book. Henry was rejected and sent home, but interestingly, about 6 months later one of that publishers stable of writers came out with a story called Henry the Leaf. Coincidence? Only if you believe in them.
I chose Art as my major.
In hindsight either of the other majors would probably been more
lucrative career wise. But I was 40 and an
actual career wasn’t a top priority. I
was going for what I thought I would enjoy the most and give me the most
independence. Due to my husband’s job,
we were living in San Francisco at the time in a beautiful old, attached home
right off Park Presidio. We had the first floor flat, which was really the 2nd
floor over the 1st floor garage. Got that? 😉 The building we were in was originally built somewhere
around 1910-20. At that time, the garages
were built to house Model T’s, maybe a Packard or Cadillac, lined up, one in
front of the other. The garages were
(are) long and narrow. If you parked in
the garage first, you had to rely on your neighbor to pull their car out before
you could get your car out. Parking on the street was minimal at best, but if
there was spot out there, we took it.
The couple that lived above us were older. He was a retired CIA agent now pursuing his
passion of rendering and painting old Frigates, Schooners and the like. Very detailed, very precise. His advice to me:
“Quit school. It’ll just stifle you. Go
out, buy some paints, get an airbrush (not my thing, but very popular at the
time) and just start painting”. We
debated this on and off for 3 years. He was
adamant the schooling would impede my creativity. He was right about one
thing. When it came to the art portion
of my education, most of the students were much younger than me and a lot of
what was taught was geared to that generation.
There were a lot of common-sense issues discussed, like when you present
your portfolio, make sure it’s clean, organized and there’s no peanut butter
stuck to it. On the other hand, the imagination
and creativity of the younger students made me work just a wee bit harder and think outside of the box.
In one of my art classes, we wound up studying the spiral. The instructor was an older gentleman (though younger than I am now, lol) and he was very dry in his teaching method. The spiral does happen to be one of the oldest, and most mysterious symbols out there. Most of the time it goes unnoticed, but it is literally in everything from seashells to our DNA. It is often used as a symbol to denote growth and evolution. It is also used in medical and technological applications. And it’s even used on top of cinnamon rolls if they are done right. 😋 After 2 weeks of the spiral though, I was ready to move on. Our assignment at the end of that 2 weeks was to create any piece of art we wanted, as long as we used the spiral. I opted to use clay. Not a medium I did much with at the time, but … I had a plan. I built a small hill, about 8” high on a piece of wood about 12 x 12 inches. I carved a path that ‘spiraled’ all the way up and around to the top of the hill. Sitting at the very top was a headstone, and under the headstone were two prone figures lying there very peacefully. The headstone was engraved ‘Here lies Harold and Maude, done in by the spiral.’ Your guess is as good as mine was, as to how that was going to play out. If there was a sense of humor hidden under that stern, dry demeanor, maybe I had a chance at an A. If there wasn’t, an F was just as likely. We had to walk up to his desk to get our grade on the final project. When I asked for mine, he looked up, with a somewhat puzzled expression, and said “It’s an A. What did you expect it to be?” He really did surprise me.
.jpg)
At the beginning of my fourth year in, I signed up for a
class in Batik. I’d always admired Batik
and wanted to learn more about it. So many
beautiful African prints, full of color and design are done by batik and I
found the process intriguing. Years before, I had found yards of a beautiful, dark, blue-based Batik fabric, and I made all the drapes for my living room out of
the fabric. It was a bold statement of dark blue, royal blue, with orange and
gold peacocks. (yes, I know, but it
really was beautiful and I loved that fabric!)
When you buy a house, and it has brand new orange shag carpet,
you’d better be creative, otherwise your Livingroom might just turn out looking
like a Burger King. My Peacocks made sure that didn’t happen. O.K. Sorry.
I digressed.
After 3 weeks of the instructor not showing up for the Batik
class, I went to the office and told them I wanted to drop the class and put the
money from the batik class towards a new class. I explained why. There virtually was no class. I was told
“sorry you would have had to do that before the end of the 2nd week;
can’t do it after the third. Of course,
I argued with them. Said I wouldn’t be changing the class if the instructor had
bothered to show up. They wouldn’t
budge. They did have a slight flaw in their contract
though. While they wouldn’t return my
money for one class (even if the instructor never showed up to teach the class!),
their policy required them to return all my money if I dropped out of all the
classes. So, yes. I did. I blame the little old, retired CIA agent up
in the corner of my brain telling me, “You can do this!”
After leaving school,
the first thing I did was get a job at an Interior Design firm. I know, the irony, right. I planned on working and then painting in my
spare time. But a funny thing happened.
The design firm was constantly being given small samples of Formica by Sales Reps. Some looked like marble, some granite, wood, rock,
and in every color imaginable. Some
textured, some not. They came in through
the door one week and out the next because the designs changed so fast. I started collecting the ‘out the door’
samples, brought them home and started playing with them. Thus began my first foray into the jewelry
business. I only created earrings and
pins. All were layers of broken abstract
shapes made of color and texture. I
finished the edges by sanding them, and then, when pleased with the design, I
added the pin and earring backs. They were fun, novel and the Formica was
surprising light, so the jewelry was easy to wear. I didn’t have any great marketing plan at
this point as I was still working for the design firm, and I was just having fun experimenting. A few weeks into this a friend came over and I showed her all the pieces I had done. By then, I
might have had about 4 dozen pins and earrings.
She immediately fell in love with them and wanted to take samples down
to a friend of hers who owned a great little gift shop in one of San Franciscos
more upbeat neighborhoods. She thought that he would really love them. I wasn’t quite as sure as she was, but at
this point I had nothing to lose.
The next day my phone rang, I answered, and the voice on the
other end says “He wants them all. He’ll
take everything you’ve got!” I still
had to design display cards and come up with the pricing, (which obviously
wasn’t an issue for him) and … make more jewelry!
Charleen Martin Designs was off and
running.
I'm going to end here for today. 😉
If you do not receive my Newsletter, my last one can be found here: data.fineartstudioonline.com/nl/?nid=348226 or, if you just want to go to the sign-up page, you can find that here:
Charleen Martin - Newsletter
THANKS FOR JOINING ME!!
CHARLEEN 💞
All mistakes are my own. Not AI
