This art postcard was fun to do and is off in the mail today.
(click for details)
The base is an ad postcard, which was sent to me in a bundle of other postcards I had ordered. I covered the front with gesso, because it was a black and white photo and very dark. I then added a layer of tissue torn into strips and collaged on, then paint, then more tissue, then paint, etc until I was satisfied that it was the right color of pink and purple. I then attached the Tim Holtz paper tape, a scrap from an early 1900's French magazine, the lace and fabric flower and some pink polka dotted ribbon. It was finished with Silver Leaf around the edges. I hope the receiver enjoys the card!
**************************************************
Salmo Salar
54th in the Tuesday Story Series
When I was in my teen years, mother was having to feed a large hungry family of six children with only ten years between the oldest (me) and the youngest. A couple of my brothers were old enough to be involved in sports, so they were always hungry. The Piggly Wiggly grocery store she used had double coupon day on Thursday and so that was shopping day for Mom and usually one or two of the children to help. Mom made a careful list because she had a limited budget, and usually had two buggy's full by the time she reached the checkout lane. Sometimes she allowed the child helping her to pick a special box of cookies for dessert. There were piles of sandwich meats, bread, a couple of dozen eggs, a chicken or two, pasta, and perhaps a roast for Sunday dinner. We had our milk delivered by a driver once or twice a week (that was still done back in my day). And always, always, there was canned salmon and a bag of grits.
On Thursdays, what we would have for supper was almost set in stone; since it was a busy day for Mom, after making the list, shopping and putting away all of the food, she planned a simple meal for the end of the day. But it was a meal several of us really disliked. She would open a can or two of salmon, dump it in a pink Melamine bowl, cook a pot of grits and bake a can of biscuits. Put some margarine on the table, and that was supper. I thought it was awful.
The salmon was straight out of the can, the way my father liked it. I grew to really dislike the taste, texture and the small round vertebra bones which always seem to find their way onto my plate. I would spear a piece with my fork, get as much grits on it as possible and force it down. The grits, being pretty bland, did not help much. If we dawdled at the table, then the grits turned cold, and that tasted even worse. And it wasn't just at our family dinner table, the other place I was faced with canned salmon was in the school cafeteria. Every Friday during those days, they served fish of some kind, and often it was Salmon Croquettes - a small ball of the yucky fish deep fried with a thick coating of flour. At least at school I could ignore it and eat whatever else was on the plate. I didn't have that luxury at home.
Since then, salmon has been touted as one of the best health foods, a delicacy, rich in Omega 3's, etc. etc. And I don't care. To be fair to me, I have given it a try - fresh salmon steak, cooked just right (I was told), and I tried to clear my mind of the stubborn memories. I ate what was in front of me, but deep down inside, I knew it was a waste of time, that my mind would never be fooled by all of the "but it's healthy.." verbiage. So, I am being kind to myself and am not going to eat it. Ever. There are too many good, healthy other things out there I can eat!
And what about the name of the story - Salmo Salar? It's the scientific name, Latin for Atlantic Salmon. Those words are the only thing poetic about it!
