Identity in our modern world is a tricky thing. Our financial identity is vulnerable to theft with all the trails we leave behind via social security number and driver's license. And yet it can be so specific with DNA maps and all the scientific/medical indicators. I was aghast at recent news reports of a beautiful model's murder in the pacific northwest that told of her body having been butchered by her murderer removing her hands and teeth so that fingerprints and dental records would not identify her. One report said her ID was made based on her breast implants!
When our moderator/guide/leader, Robyn, posted the prompt for Chapter 2 of this week's The Artist's Way book group, right away I had a mental image of an object illustrative of my identity, but it's so hopelessly vintage/out of date/passe I couldn't even FIND an image on Yahoo Search to share with my written post. I guess it's too far back in time for a jpg file to exist, even in a nostalgic old-timer type website. So I guess I'll have to paint a word picture and still some of you young'uns won't even get it.
Soda pop used to come in bottles, real glass ones instead of those plastic bubbles ranging 16, 20 and 24 ounces and 1 or 2 liters or 12 ounce cans or now those short little squatty versions. There were vending machines for them in hardware and drug stores and outside gas stations and in the laundrymat with glass doors that you could view the bottles lying side by side by side, their tin caps with their product logos pointing at you as you approached. For a child it was fascinating to watch the bottles roll on their perfectly engineered tilt to replace themselves when one was pulled from it's dispenser slot behind the door. Always on the floor next to the vending machine would be 2 stacks of wooden cases - one for empties and one for refilling the machine - with 24 little squares separating the bottles to keep them from clanging together and chipping or breaking as they rode on the trucks that would transport them to all those machines. Usually the uppermost case would be a random mix of cola, diet cola, root beer, red pop, orange pop, creme soda, lemon lime, and maybe grape. That uppermost restock case is the very image of my identity...with its random mix of bottle shapes, colors and flavors.
I am part child, daughter, grand daughter, sister, niece, aunt, grandmother, friend, student, co-worker, team player, fan, performer, woman, wife, mother, writer, quilter, lover, housekeeper, gardener, empty nester, philanthropist, care giver, teacher, builder, citizen, cook, leader, follower, activist, seeker, believer, home body, wanderer and wonderer. 31 flavors - plus! (Oh, if only you could see the big self-righteous smirky grin that puts on my face to say. My ex once actually said I was merely 'vanilla'. How little did HE know!)
My afterthought images representing my identity have been my grandmother's old button box tin full of every color and size and shape buttons I could imagine and I remember just loving to dip my hands in and lift handfuls of them and just let them 'rain' back into the tin and equally randomly colorful and amazing was another tin full of embroidery flosses...neither of which do I have photos of except in my head. : (
I think I'll be playing Carole King's "TAPESTRY" in the studio today...
5 hours ago