I am currently the proud ownee of two all American, genuine CATs. Both are just less than a year old. Roxie was a gift for my daughter's 6th birthday but she proudly calls me hers. (She would have it no other way). And Turbo, who started out as my son's stray rescue kitten from under our long parked Honda, has turned into his namesake. A compact powerhouse with a purr that could shake windows, Turbo finds me the coziest place to nap. My two babies. My two toe assassins.
Over the years I have realized that cats are perfect for someone like me. Busy, lazy, intense, quiet. All at differing bursts. Anything that can give you that much intense love and attention and walk away like they don't really care anyway, commands my respect. I am sure you are the same. Tranquility that bursts into acrobatics all over the flicker of a shadow ("I am sure I saw something...") Cats are indeed my reflection on many different levels.
Actually, this is a reunion for me and cats. I had cats all my life except for a stretch of eight years. (Has it really been that long!?) None, except the ones in my head. Not until I began to express them in my art. Have you ever heard of the book "The Purpose Driven Life"?
-This sounds really strange but is true. A little over 2 years ago I had two joint surgeries (unrelated) both to left side extremities. One wrist and one knee. I had eight weeks off work and received that book from someone I have never heard of in Missouri. I started reading through the book, wondering what it was and why I had been sent it. At the same time I was mulling over a request that my sister had made of me some time before to do a sculpture of her cat. Thinking of how I would go about creating the sculpture. While that was going on, her cat had to be euthanized and then I guess everything kind of came together for me.
To understand what was happening, you must understand that for YEARS I had floundered around without any direction for my artistic skills. I had even dropped out of college because-- I did not want to be an art teacher or a graphic artist. I had no idea what to do with my skill if I could even I could really own it as that. Everyone else told me I was talented but I had not found a calling; I did not believe in myself. That was in *ahem* 1991. I dabbled in drawings over the years, much as I had all my life. Everyone loved them, but I was not satisfied. About three years ago, after much encouragement from my supporting family, I took a 'continuing education' class that was a satellite of our community college courses in pottery of all things. Just something that I had never tried. I fell in love with the mud! Clay was everything that I couldn't express. Somehow I was able to coax the feeling out of it that paper could never give. Then I went from making pots to sculpting. Somehow it makes sense looking back; my mother and grandmother used to have a ceramic shop of their own. I didn't have much interest at the time because I was young; but I was there every day with the dust and the smell of greenware and the firing kilns. It must have sunk into my core.
When my sister asked me to do a sculpture of her cat, it just made sense. My sister was crushed when her cat died. She had had that cat since we were both in high school. When I found out that she had had her cat cremated, it only made sense that she would be able to place the ashes inside the cat I created in her likeness. So my purpose, as it were, was revealed. Why shouldn't everyone that loved their cat be able to memorialize them the same way? So I began the journey of the last few years. Now finally realizing that potential, I have a purpose for my art. Cats that are art, that are sculptures, that are urns, that are art. It lifts me every time I think of it. The healing that it can bring for cat owners. To see a likeness of their cat. Not a box or a jar with their cat's name. Something that can be placed in their favorite sunny spot or wear their collar.
I have toiled and collected and gathered and spent. I have sweated blood and tears and now I am there. Standing on the brink. With a ball of clay in one hand and a computer mouse dangling in the other. I taught myself how to build a website and opened up for the prying eyes of the public web. To be crawled over by search engine "spiders" and Googled. But-- there is purpose behind this I remind myself. And as if on cue, here is Roxie. Jumped into my lap; purring and reminding me that it is worth it.
Stephanie
http://www.EternalPetStudio.com
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