We start at the very beginning, which as I'm sure, is a very good place to start. But instead of ABC, 123, or Do Re Mi, it was knit, knit, purl, and over, under, tighten, and knot, knot, knot... because that's how I roll. The exact moment my crafty life began is rather uncertain, but what is certain is that it started at least twelve years ago. And it wasn't knitting, lanyards, or jewelry, but... paper.
Paper cakes. Paper chains. And plastic-in-paper, also known as Light Brite creations. The paper cakes were surely a favorite. With childhood excitement comes the desire that time would move faster, but then slow down by tenfold on the special day. I'm talking about my birthday, and more specifically, my birthday party. And even more specific in that would be a birthday cake. And that sets the premises for my paper cake obsession. I would plan and sketch and design and present and dream about what my birthday cake would look like, complete with my full palette of eight Crayola washable markers and twenty-four Crayola crayons. Nobody had to rain on my parade to tell me I was (and still am) an atrocious drawer, but what everybody didn't see was the imagination that didn't find its way onto paper. The creative wheels were still turning that would later be released in other forms of which I had more aptitude, forms that I still pursue and find joy in to this day.
My grandmother was quite the sewer, and the dresses and blankets and quilts and even curtains she made for me and I saw her make definitely inspired me to do something similar. I noticed all the attention I got when I wore these special outfits, especially when I told the onlooker that my grandmother made them for me, and special feeling I got inside during moments like these made me want to sing and dance with joy. And I did; all the time (more on that some other time). I figured out that making dresses like this wasn't the normal thing to do, and due to this, it was a special and cool thing that got one lots of attention. Obviously, I knew this was the thing for me.
But one who's only five doesn't decide they are going to sew themselves a dress by themselves without any baby steps first. My mother enrolled me in a doll-clothes-making class when I was in kindergarten, where I made lumps of fabric that eventually found homes in the waste basket. I still loved it.
My grandmother took me under her wing and taught me how to use a needle and thread to sew two pieces of fabric together. Whether I achieved this goal or not is not the moral of the story. What matters is that I loved every minute of it. And since then, I always have.
I've found homes and comfort in other mediums besides sewing, which I don't even call my dominant crafting form nowadays. Regardless, I would still consider it the first medium which converted me into the art of crafting. And as far as I know, the aftermath of the conversion has been vastly successful up to this day.