Wall Hanging Progress, and a Story: Deep Blue Sea

Here are the latest pictures for the wall hanging, work-in-progress. It tells a story, but it is not quite ready to end. I have some more work to do and will keep adding pictures.

Overview

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As you might remember, the base is Tyvek, which is very flexible and allows for painting, stitching, whatever you want to do. The base was collaged with papers, fabric, lace, origami mesh, cheesecloth, acrylic paints and oil pastels.

Closeup 1

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The houses were cut from book pages, altered with inks and images and wire windows were added. I have yet to add the window on the top house. Buttons were sewn on. 

 Closeup 2

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The image of the girl is a tag I had made a while ago, and underneath her are pages, stained cheesecloth and stained muslin. Click here to see the beginnings. I have had several rough nights where I either can't get to sleep, or wake up at 2:30 AM, and have mostly worked on it then. I'm pleased with how it's coming along and look forward to adding more to it as the story all comes together!

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Deep Blue Sea

53rd in the Tuesday Story Series

When my father was in his seventies, and was still able to travel, he started a tradition which was repeated for several years. Every year, he would make a group reservation for a Gulf Stream fishing boat out of Charleston, and we would all chip in. Usually in May, before the weather would be too hot, a group consisting of my Dad, one of my sisters, brothers, my uncle, several cousins, in-laws and various friends would meet together at 5 AM at the dock, usually still in the dark. Dad and other family members would come down the day before and stay with me, and we would get up at 4 in the morning, meet several of the others at an all night restaurant in Mt. Pleasant and some would eat breakfast, the rest drinking coffee and talking. Some of us had found out that it was better to be very careful what we ate before a 3 hour trip on the open sea! 

The boat had an open top deck for seating, and an inside cabin. Most of us stayed on the top, braving the wind and sprays because it was easier to calm the stomach in fresh air. Often if there were no clouds on the horizon, we would see dawn break and watch the cargo ships passing on their way to the busy Charleston ports. What was really thrilling was to see the submarines come in (the Navy Base was still open then). You just don't realize how large and imposing they are until you pass within a short distance of it traveling above water. There were usually several sailors up top and we'd all wave to them and yell. And some of the container ships which moved determinedly towards the city were huge, with stacks of trailers on their decks which would dwarf a small town. 

Once we got to the Gulf Stream, the color change in the water was amazing. Light aqua greens and blues reminded you of a tropical island. It was not unusual to see a sea turtle go past, or watch a school of flying fish. The captain would use his radar to spot a likely group of fish, and did his best to place the boat right over it. Once done, the boat hands would call out for us to go to our poles, which we had placed in a chosen spot around the boat. We usually fished off the back of the boat, because there was less likelihood of the lines getting tangled.

Our boat looked similar to this one. The boat we used is now retired.

Bait was cut up squid, and we had 2-3 hooks on the line. I would bait my line, then press the release button and down it would go for 200 or more feet. The boat hands would be moving all about us, detangling lines, helping to pull in fish with a gaff, or taking the fish off the line. There was a large freezer on the back of the boat, and as you caught fish, they would mark it with your ID and throw in with the rest. We would catch grouper, spot tail bass, red and pink snapper and small sharks. Once in a while, I or someone else would pull in a trigger fish or a dogfish, and one of the boat hands would yell "Don't touch it!" and come cut it off and add new hooks to the line. Dogfish have poisonous spines and trigger fish have a small mouth with razor sharp teeth, so I was glad the guys were there to help!

The squid would be inky and slimy on our hands and clothing and sometimes we would catch our fingers on a hook. It was a balancing act with the boat rocking on the waves, and sometimes we would be in a rain shower. Your thumb got very tired pressing the button to reel in the line, and you had to occasionally reapply sunscreen out on the bright water. You smelled like fish and were bone tired when the boat headed back in at the end of the day. Lunch was chili dogs and water or soda, or crackers and snacks. (Some of the other passengers brought a cooler of beer, and sat up top just drinking. That was an expensive beer party!!) It usually took till the next morning before you would stop feeling the boat rocking, which made a kind of odd sensation when you were taking a shower later on. Once, upon arriving home, and barely able to stand up, my husband (who is not a fisherman) stood there for a minute taking in my smelly appearance, disheveled hair, filthy clothes and my plastic bag full of freshly cleaned fish and said "I don't understand why you do it!" I just looked at him and said "It's FUN!" 

And it was. And those were great trips!

Come see my latest postcards I've received on Postcards Buffet!

Project Moving On, and a Story -The Lt. Colonel

Two weeks ago, I began a project on Tyvek (see here) and showed the materials to be used on it. I have worked on it as I could and here are some update photos. I have actually done a lot more since I took these pictures but I haven't photographed them yet. But at least you can see how it's proceeding!

There are several paint layers on it now, and it's evolving, as these projects often do, into something completely different than I had in mind when I began. I will update soon!

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The Lt. Colonel

52nd in the Tuesday Story Series

My father was born in South Carolina and my mother in Pennsylvania, so I have ancestors who fought on both sides during the Civil War. On my father's side, among many relatives who fought, one was his great grandfather who was a Lt. Colonel in the Confederacy. 

Born one of eleven children, Daniel Livingston married Narcissus Fanning and they had  ten children, one of whom died in infancy. The only photo I have of them shows him in his uniform, and her in a simple dress with a thin kerchief around her neck. She looks forlorn and tired, even more so than subjects of photos from that era usually do. During the years I was doing research on the family line, I was contacted by someone who claimed that he was descended from Daniel and his wife's sister. I had noticed that this sister was living with them when one of the census records were taken, so it could very possibly be true. With DNA testing available now for genealogy testing, it would be easy to find out. If it were true, that could explain why she appears the way she does.

Daniel joined the CSA as a Captain in Company B, Unit 1, Hagood's SC Infantry. He was wounded in Second Manassas and Sharpsburg. A story has been passed down that he was severely wounded during the Manassas battle and was found by a Virginian family and taken back to their home and nursed back to health. In gratitude, he named his seventh child after the family and the town they lived in - Quincy Fairfax Livingston. A family named Quincy living in Fairfax VA hasn't yet been located but it could still be possible.

If you have read anything about the armies during the Civil War, you will know that they do not reflect the US Army as it is now. On both sides, the men were free to leave after their three month subscription, or leave when it was time to plant or harvest. Officers were elected by their men, or named so by commanding officers who perhaps had favorites among the men they commanded. It was a loosely organized group on either side. I found letters my grandfather wrote requesting supplies and his handwriting was beautiful, which indicates that he had an education. At some point, the men he commanded complained about him after he was promoted to Lt. Colonel and he resigned his post. On the surface, that doesn't reflect well on him, but as I have read and studied that period, it was not an uncommon occurrence. After he left on 3 Mar 1864, he joined a local garrison in South Carolina, which was glad to have him.

I found his obituary in a small South Carolina newspaper, the Southern Christian Advocate, written by his pastor, George H. Pooser. It reflects the life of a man who earned respect, even though he had made mistakes. I think it's a reflection we would like to speak of ourselves when we are gone - that we suffered the frailties of our human form, but in the end we were "prepared for the change" as we go forward into eternity.

“Livingston SC- 

Col. Daniel Livingston was born in Orangeburg Co. SC Nov 27, 1827 and died Oct. 28, 1881. He was married to Miss Narcissa M.C. Fanning, April the 5th, 1849, joined the Methodist Church at the Boiling Springs Camp meeting and made a profession of religion six years ago. He rose to the rank of Lieutenant- Colonel in the Confederate army, was a man of strong attachment and warm friendship. Like other men, he had his faults, but he had the gift of drawing others to him. He was attacked with paralysis about five years ago, but recovered partially from it, so that he was able to go about until last March, when he was stricken down and confined to his bed almost constantly until he died. I visited him frequently during his last illness, and he assured me on several occasions that he was prepared for the change; as he did members of his own family before he breathed his last. He leaves a widow and blue (?) children, with a large circle of relatives to mourn his loss. Said one who knew him well, “Colonel Daniel Livingston will be missed.” He bore his sickness of seven months with much fortitude and patience, and his remains now repose at Hebron Church, Edisto Circuit.” G. H. P. 

Come see my latest postcards I've received on Postcards Buffet!

A Story: I'm from Where?

Sunday night I had a hard time getting to sleep, so I began working on another art project, a second deli wrap collage. It's still in the beginning stage, and I have no photos yet because I have had a head cold which has really slowed me down with my already constant fatigue. I hope to have pictures for you on another day!

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I'M FROM WHERE?

42nd in the Tuesday Story Series

Growing up I always enjoyed hearing my father tell stories about his ancestors. History has always fascinated me and these anecdotes just brought it to life. Then one day when I was older, my Dad showed me a little red book with my father's family name embossed in gold on the front ~ LIVINGSTON. This little book was written by another Livingston descendant who had interviewed his relatives and looked at family Bibles and local cemeteries in his area to compile all of his information. He even had copies of old photographs in his book, so it made the little book extra precious. It had been written in the 1940's.

The author had started this genealogical record with the head of the family who had moved to Orangeburg County SC from Newberry County SC and was the forebearer of all of the Livingstons in Orangeburg. He was my gggg - grandfather, John Livingston.

The author opened the paragraph of his little book by referring to Robert Livingston of New York, who had signed the Declaration of Independence. He spoke about Robert's Scottish heritage, tying it in with our heritage, stating that we were part of a centuries old Livingston Scottish clan. When I was older, I bought a little book about Scottish Clans and even joined the local Scottish Society.

In 1999, I started doing serious research work on all lines in my family. The first, and easiest to do was the Livingston line. Genealogy was beginning its rise as a popular pastime and there were more books available to research. There were more and more organizations which were posting their information online. But at that time, the best way was still to go to archives and spend hours searching through old records. I loved it - it was like a little window back into time.

I began by searching out everything I could find about Robert Livingston. Since he was a famous patriot, there was much information and genealogical records already published in many books. I searched and searched, but could find nothing about any of his family extending into the South. In fact, no one ventured out of the northeast! Puzzled, I started to look elsewhere. I drove from Charleston to the SC State Archives outside of Columbia SC and spent most of the day digging. Starting with what I knew (the ancestors I had proof about) I worked backwards and several hours later, I was looking at a Land Grant for one Martin Luther Leviston. His son's name was John Livingston. Martin was from Germany.

When I told my Dad that evening that I thought we were from Germany and not Scotland, he was very dubious. But after more research, I was able to put it all together.

Martin's family arrived in Philadelphia PA from the Palantine area of Germany on 21 September 1727, on the ship William and Mary. Their last name was Liebenstein, and they settled outside of Lancaster PA, and joined the Muddy Creek Lutheran Church. Michael and two of his brothers were given a land grant in Maryland, then sold the land and moved to Newberry County SC where they acquired another land grant. Martin's son John moved to Orangeburg County and started a saw mill; it was this family from which my father's family is descended.

Also, Martin was a Tory during the Revolutionary War, and was a Captain in the SC Royalists. He was serving under Lord Rawdon at Camden SC and was killed in September 1781 during an unsuccessful attack by the militia of Nathaniel Greene. His two brothers were also Tories, then switched to the Patriot side after the fall of Charleston SC to the British.

So my heritage went from haggis to schnitzel, at least for this family line. And it was fine with me, I had no preference for what country I was from, I just wanted to know the facts. The author of the little Livingston book made a serious mistake by assuming that one name was the same as another. Many refugees and newcomers to America Anglicized their names, or had them Anglicized for them by the authorities who could not pronounce what they were hearing when the records were recorded. The names changed down through the records as Liebenstein, Loewenstein, Leviston, Liviston, Livingston. There are many Livingstons in the US who can trace their line back to Scotland, but ours has a different history. Many American names are like that - you cannot be sure what nationality they are until you do a little research. In genealogy, one of the worst mistakes you can make is to assume a fact.  Much of life is like that - don't assume, find out!

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Project Update #3 and a Story: Fireworks

Happy New Year to you! I worked some more on my postcard project so here is an update. If you would like one of these, stay tuned - I am going to have a drawing when they are finished. There are 9 postcards, and if there are not more people than nine interested, then you can have a choice. Otherwise, I will choose. More information soon!

The original post is here and update #2 is here.

I dabbed pearl white over the tiny glass beads and some other textured parts.

Small makeup sponges, easily found at the drug store, make great paint applicators!

I use lots of the Polymer Medium, so I buy it in the largest size and fill up the bottle on my art table as needed.

Here is a dried white orchid on a dark rose petal. The Polymer Medium is on there very thickly, and will dry clear. This helps the blossom be more flexible and gives a strong seal. This will take a while to dry and may need more to finish it.

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FIREWORKS

39th in the Tuesday Story Series

As we listened to the fireworks explode and light up the sky in the dark this past New Year's eve, it reminded me of celebrations we had as a child. Often on New Year's Eve and the 4th of July we would drive up to my grandparents and meet other family members there. I have written before of how my grandfather had a quintessential country store in a small hamlet ner the center of South Carolina. It was on these holidays that we children would watch my father and his brothers take part what must have been a family tradition, but has not been repeated down into my generation.

My grandfather purchased all types of fireworks in anticipation of the get-together. For the children, he had sparklers which I must say were far superior to what is available today. They would last much longer and we would wave them around into magical designs in the air. There were poppers we could throw on the paved area which would give a satisfying "BANG". The adults would light strings of firecrackers, bottle rockets and even cherry bombs. Loud noises, brief colors in the air above us and the rat-a-tat-tat of the firework strings kept all of us children shouting and cheering. But the biggest event was the anvil jump.

Most farms and ranches still have anvils. Used by blacksmiths, farmers and craftsmen in the early 20th century, they were a necessary part of survival before the advent of modern welding. It was a basic tool, usually made of solid iron, now made of steel, with a hard surface to lay another object on for striking. The inertia of the anvil allows the energy of the striking tool to transfer to the object; it was also used as a forging implement for the shaping of hot metal. So, an anvil was a large and very heavy thing!

My grandfather, uncles and father would haul one out of the back of the store and place it out front. The aunts and my mother would start murmuring to each other and began to call all of the children back to what they considered a safe distance. The men would dig a shallow hole in the sandy ground, shaping it just right and lift the anvil over it from time to time to make sure all of the dimensions were correct. Then there would be a discussion about the technique of how to place the fireworks, whether the newer ones offered any advantages over the tried and true. Finally, they would arrange the fireworks carefully and then place the anvil on top. 

The goal was to see how high they could lift the anvil. As they were making all of the preparations, the women would be making the same comments they made before:

"Boys will be boys!" 

"Sometimes they never grow up, do they?"

"Oh, I hope they don't hurt themselves!"

"I wish they would get it over with!"

Most of the older children begged to be over there with them. Of course the answer would be a firm "NO". 

Then, the moment came and the fireworks were lit. There was a bright light, a very loud "WHUMP" and the anvil would be actually jump. The men and most of the children cheered, while the women and the rest of the children heaved a sigh of relief. There would be discussions about the height of the jump, comparisons to the last time they did it and a lot of back slapping. This event would draw the night to a close.

As I stated, it is not a tradition which is being passed on in this generation and I'm sure it's probably a good idea that it isn't! None of my cousins have an anvil as far as I know, and there are certainly safer ways to celebrate. It's something I remember fondly, though, watching my father, uncles and grandfather behaving like young boys!

Come see my latest postcards I've received on Postcards Buffet!

Tuesday Story

I posted some art pictures yesterday, but do not have anything new to post art-wise today; please check back later in the week!

It was last year on the Tuesday after Christmas that I posted my first story, and in honor of that, I am posting it again. Hope you enjoy!

Christmas Past

1st story in the Tuesday Story Series - Repost

When my parents were first married, my mother became interested in a certain china pattern, Silver Pine. She was hoping to collect enough pieces to have something special for company. Then over the next decade, six children arrived and the few pieces she had collected were stored, and labeled in her mind as "someday...".  As my siblings and I became adults, and our parents grew older, we struggled every year with the "what do you get your parents, now that they really don't need anything" problem. One summer a novel idea presented itself during a conversation with my Dad. I asked him just how much my mother had of her "special dinnerware" and together we hatched a plan to really surprise her. 


I was an antiques dealer at the time, and had access to auctions, and shows where  I could find some pieces to fill in her collection. I contacted all my siblings so everyone could participate. I made a list of things she would need to complete a service for eight, plus serving dishes after my father gave me a list of what she had, and started searching. I ended up finding most of the things on eBay, and since I had several months lead time, I could take my time and search for pristine pieces. By the time Christmas arrived, I had found everything we needed and even some ice tea glasses which matched the dinnerware! All of us chipped in to pay for the things as time went along and we were all excited about the big day. 

That Christmas, we gathered at my parent's home, and all of us unloaded our car and piled the boxes on the living room floor. My mother was very curious once she got a look at the pile of wrapped boxes, but we wouldn't let her know who they were for until it came time to open gifts, then we made her wait till last. She and Dad sat down on the hearth and after opening the first box, she was speechless and had tears. Box after box was opened and china was laid out on the hearth and you could just feel her excitement! After everything was opened, she just looked at us and expressed her feelings by saying she just didn't know how to thank us, but the look on her face said it all! We quickly washed the dishes and used them for Christmas dinner and that was the loveliest table and one of the happiest Christmases I remember. Now that both of my parents are no longer with us, it is a very special memory!

I hope everyone had an enjoyable Christmas and is looking forward to 2012!

Come see my latest postcards I've received on Postcards Buffet!