Table “escape”

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Spring is trying its best to show itself at Stagfield, but the forsythia and quince are sadly going to freeze their buds off this weekend. Aside from vinca minor’s pops of purple, little is blooming and thus I had to scrounge around for a centerpiece for tonight’s table.

We more often than not entertain in the library. That room is in the 1781 part of the house and has this undeniable energy that we enjoy. Setting the large “Garner” pine table there for four gives a wide berth for “stuff” and what I lack in flowers today, I made up with things collected from here and there around the house.

The tablecloth is a “Goodwill via Target clearance” shower curtain whose winter to spring palette was my inspiration. Next, true to the room’s period I selected the brown and white Meakin “Americana ” plates with scenes of Mount Vernon, brown napkins, and pewter flatware as the soft patina married with that of the cloth colors. Then a few vintage books (about Virginia, France and of course, Mount Vernon), wood and pewter candlesticks, a few architectural pieces, lichens, river birch bark, turkey feathers, antlers and my roving deer figurine coached this gathering into some sensical theme… I think. I just enjoyed mixing the colors and shapes and justifying my junk-o-holicism! Among the junk are a sampling of old glass shards that have bubbled up from the garden over the years. They, along with a seed box full of artifacts we’ve collected here live in the library.

A couple of things about busy tablescapes, if conversation lags, they offer a jumping off point at least. That won’t be an issue with tonight’s guests, our good friends Allen and Melissa. And if I don’t stop “playing” and get to the market, we may all be reading rather than eating!

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“It is such a secret place, the land of tears.”

© Mary Garner-Mitchell. Pen and ink; Graphix board

© Mary Garner-Mitchell. Pen and ink; Graphix board

“Nothing terribly important, but your big, little sister could use an empathetic shoulder … or something …”  was the message in my email.

Within minutes, his voice on the phone asking, “Are you ok?” gave me permission to cry.

As the author of “The Little Prince” wrote, my tears came from “a secret place” that few may understand. They had been collecting in a reservoir deep, deep within for the past several months, and I knew the gene pool that my brother and I share made him the logical lifeguard. He tossed me the ring by way of his own experiences at low tide when one chooses any art as a vocation. God bless him.

Don’t misunderstand, and I don’t want your pity. I am full of gratitude for all I’ve been given by way of talent, family, friends, clients and more love and good fortune than I deserve. And, while slowed, business remains steady. Yet recently my creative spirit seems to be drowning in the sea of change within my profession.

I’m sad to say that cheap stock art now consumes my original work more often than I care to admit. I cannot compete with $30 spot illustrations, pay for health insurance, office rent, all the while swimming against a current of ever changing software and equipment and still bring jobs in on time and on budget. Fast, cheap, good – the designer’s holy triangle — as the saying goes, “choose two.”

The sharks are circling ready to gobble up guppies who have nothing to lose (but their livelihood!) by swimming in schools politely called “crowd sourcing” and “contests” — Candy Land names otherwise known as “spec work.” I have not and will never take that bait.

Worse still are clients who see graphic design as a commodity, demanding native files as deliverables, ignoring the fact that to transfer licensed fonts and stock art is copyright infringement for which I would be liable, not to mention risking the integrity of the finished piece at the hands of another of unknown skill. Their message is play by our rules or you’re not in the game. Well, I won’t play that game and risk sinking my reputation and what’s left of my industry.

I’m taking my sketchbook and going home so to speak — per my wise brother’s advice. I’ve dried my tears.

Until tomorrow.

C’est le temps que tu as perdu pour ta rose qui fait ta rose si importante.

(“It is the time you have devoted to your rose that makes your rose so important.”)
From “The Little Prince” by Antoine de Saint-Exupery