Crafting Succulence

Until the Succulent Wild Women came along, I never considered myself much of a “crafter.” Actually, though I’m creative in lots of other ways, I’ve never thought of myself as a visual artist at all, and I always assumed such a foundation was necessary for any sort of crafting success. My mother is a writer and illustrator of children’s books, and I grew up with an art studio in my backyard. As a child, I would sit in the studio, watch as the sunset changed the reflected colors on the wall from pink to rusty red, and wait. I just knew there would be a moment when the “artist” gene would kick in and, inspired, I would go to my mom’s collection of colored pencils, oils, and pastels, and create my masterpiece.

Twenty-three years later I was still waiting. I hadn’t completely given up hope, but almost. In the watercolor class I took after college, the other students mistook my cantaloupe for a spaceship. I was still drawing noses like backward “L’s.” I even tried my hand at calligraphy, until my mother called me after she got her Christmas card and said pleasantly, “Hey, who’s Norm?” “Ugh,” I replied, disgusted, “It says, ‘Mom’.”

Then the succulent wild women came along. It happened before I knew quite what I was getting into. This was a group of women who were all dear friends of mine. When the five of us got together, we would often find ourselves discussing art, books, poetry, and, in today’s hectic world, how to stay in touch with our own creativity. After realizing that we all had a weakness for SARK’s inspirational quotes, Cris (Head Succulent) said, “Hey, why don’t we have monthly art rituals? We can take all of this creative inspiration and put it to form. We’ll call ourselves the Succulent Wild Women!” To honor this new artistic era, we each bought a succulent plant. For those of you unfamiliar with this type of foliage, a succulent is called such because it doesn’t need very much water. It provides its own nourishment.

I love these women and cherish our time together, but I was a reluctant SWW at first. Truthfully, our club brought out the succulent monster in me. My watercolor talents had not improved, so all my colors ran together until I decided to give up and title my painting, “Night.” We made accordion books with our favorite poems inside, and I whined like a four-year-old because I could not master the proper use of my glue stick.

We made mosaic frames for our mothers for Mother’s Day, and I spent an extra forty-five minutes in the tile store obsessed with each individual tile.