Day SEVEN: Van Gogh and my Mother

This morning I was thinking about my Mother. You see, my Mother thinks I am crazy for giving up television. “You know there are really great movies on television, I saw one last night.” ‘Well, is it out on dvd?” “Well no, but it was based on a true story and it had that guy from Friends in it.” “Mmmm, ok.” In my head I am thinking . “How would watching someone else's true story help me to create mine.” Perhaps I wasn’t that poetic on the spur of the moment but you get my point. This morning it struck me how incredibly creative my mother was once upon a time.

My Mother could make a stuffed animal from scratch without a pattern, which may sound like nothing to you but trust me when you see a 4 foot pony sitting in the living room you’d realize that it took some brains.
She would make these incredible monkey’s, bunny’s at Easter, spiders and pumpkins at halloween, homemade stockings at Christmas, and heart shaped pillows on Valentine’s Day. Whenever a new baby came into the family a giant, life sized homemade animal would leave ours.

Then she would draw and paint. Her paintings from high school were incredible with their own signature style apparently developed at a very young age. What I mean by that is when you see Van Gogh, its pretty obvious its a Van Gogh, and it took time to develope a signature style that would sell. Anyway, my Mother at 16 had her own style. There is a painting in my brothers room of a young soldier hiding behind some tall grass. The soldier has these huge sad eyes that draw you in. It isn’t an ugly painting but a welcoming one which is hard to achieve when it involves a soldier.

My mother can write. She has written children’s books, incredible poems and short stories. The children’s books I beg her to let me help publish, I have begged her to illustrate them as well, but her fear of rejection far surpasses her willingness to work.

For two years now she has been creating a card line that she’ll send out at holidays. Usually the cards involve with my Father in some kind of predicament. They are hilarious and witty.
But, they remain in the family or hidden in the basement.

When we were younger television was not a role in our lives. We played until the sun went down. We didn't’ know what shows were on when.
We hadn’t a clue. My little brothers and I played with the neighbors, we practiced our instruments. All the neighborhood kids played an instrument. The piano, violin, clarinet, trumpet and oboe could be heard coming out of the neighor’s windows. My brothers and I would bang away on the violin and trombone and I would also practice my singing. My mom was in the living room creating some new wonderment while baking chocolate chips cookies in the kitchen.

Life slowly changed, her parents passed on, we moved onto colleges and television got more channels. TV GOT more interesting, GOT more enticing. Now my parents sit in front of the television all night long. My Mom has it on all day and all night. I beg her to finish her children’s books illustrations. She tells me she isn’t inspired. Would she be inspired if the television was off? I think so. The minute I get restless and wonder what I should do next my brain is now clicking into a new kind of creativity, one that i had as a child and up through college. The one year in college that I didn't’ own a television was the year that I got straight A’s, there must be a correlation.
When I see my mother pace the house and then reside herself to the family room chair in front of AMC or Oprah I wonder if the tv wasn’t there would she perhaps be writing or drawing instead? I completely 100 percent believe so.

Just think of all the artists we are losing to television.
Had television been around for Van Gogh he would have self medicated with “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy,” fixed up his one room living quarters and the ear would have remained in tact, but then we would never have the painting “A starry night.” and life would be less magical without a starry night.