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​Welcome to my World of Art!

Everything I do, is an expression of myself. From art to mermaids, from dance to hula hoops, from housewife to urban farmer, my multi faceted life is expressed here within these pages. 



My name is Chelsea and I invite you to follow me as I chase my second star to the right and head straight on til morning. Who knows what adventures, creations, or people we will meet or make along the way! 



Questions? Comments? Custom Orders? Hiring Rates? Any and all questions, please contact me! 

Love, Peace, & Granola



Meet the Artist

 Big Ugly 

The story of the Blanket that spanned generations

25

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25

APR

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Around the mid 1970's or so, a middle aged women, picked up a crochet hook and begin working on a blanket that would take several life times to complete, this women was my Grand Mother or Gram as I called her.  By this time in Gram's life she had raised two daughters, both now married and living lives of there own. Getting to old to work every day, she took up crocheting to help pass the time.  This is was the birth of a blanket that would touch the lives of several young women.

When I was an infant my family moved into my grand parents home in Virgina. I loved it there, though I was only a child I have many cherished memories of growing up on the East Coast. However, I only have vague memories of Gram crocheting, she made several dresses for me when I was little and there always seemed to be a basket of yarn near her chair. But I can hardly remember her picking up the hook. Needle art was always present but not a big part of my childhood. My Mother crocheted on occasion, always blankets. Why always blankets? Well, she only knew one stitch and she couldn't read a pattern. My whole life I basically ignored yarn and the amazing things that could be done with it. But years later and a cross country move to California, the day came that Mom wanted me to learn how to crochet. I was a Girl Scout and it would be an excellent talent for a young girl to have. Mom and I  sat at the kitchen table and she tried to teach me, I was a stubborn child and soon gave up. So needless, to say, I did not earn that merit badge.

It wasn't until I had a small home of my own and a loving man to encourage me, that I finally picked a crochet hook and was determined to learn! I dug out my Mom's old crochet hooks and found a bag of yarn in the bottom of my closet. Then I hit the computer to find an easy beginners hat pattern.  I then had to spend several hours looking up the meaning of each abbreviation and then looking up the "how to". Now I had all the tools and knowledge I needed to succeed at this pattern! Well, my hopes were soon thrown out the window, this was HARD and my hands hurt and all I really did was make knots! My Husband encouraged me and told me not to give up. Even after I produced a hat big enough to fit a beach ball and one too small for baby doll! He still encouraged me, through several temper tantrums, He still stood by me and would not let me give up. Then finally, I got the hang of it. My first hat was finished and I couldn't wait to start something new! Now three women of three very different generations, had taught themselves the ancient art of needle craft and little did I know it would grow to be my passion.

My Gram, died long before I knew how to crochet. A part of me wishes we could have had the time together to sit on the deck of her Virgina home crocheting to together. In some small way, we have crocheted together. Years later and after the death of Gram, the rest of my Grandparents and my Father. I found myself rummaging through my Mom's attic. Mom had deiced that it was time to clean out attic and get rid of years of clutter. There are actually three attics in Mom's house, from the different additions to the house. And they were all full of stuff, my stuff, stuff from the houses in Virgina (there were three!), my parents stuff and my grand parents stuff. Everywhere, stuff, stuff, and more stuff!

Up in the main attic, my Mom supervising from the ground, I found a plastic white shopping bag, from the Piggly Wiggly or some such a mater. In this unassuming bag from the past was YARN! At this point in my life I had been gifted a spinning wheel and taught myself how to use it. Along with crochet and spinning, yarn was my medium of choice and a bag of yarn was a treasure waiting to be found! I was so excited to find old yarn! I tossed the bag down to Mom and came clambering down the latter. Mom took one look inside and instantly she knew whose yarn it had been. Gram, it was her yarn and my Mom brought with her from Virgina after we had to move Gram to California. Nearly ten years after her death, I sat on the floor of my mothers living room like a small child on Christmas morning! Excited to see what was hidden in my prized bag of musty old yarn. To my surprise, out came a pattern and a few unfinished Log Cabin pieces! Mom remembered Gram starting on that blanket after she had married her first husband. When she found it the house in Virgina, Mom wanted to bring it home to California where she could finish it. But she still couldn't read a pattern, so it remained in the attic, for me to find. The yarn was all acrylic and not the soft kind we have today and the colors were retched. Avocado green, bright orange, sunny yellow, earthen brown, and creamy whites. All the horrid colors of the 70's, but I loved each and every one! This was it, this was how I would be able to share crochet with my Gram, I would finish this blanket! It had been floating around two attics, one on each side the country and now it was time to give it a real home as a real blanket.

I begin by using only what was left of Gram's yarn, but it soon became clear that I was going to need lots more yarn! My Mom gave me her stash of left over yarns, from the blankets she had crocheted, for myself, my brother, and my Dad. Unfortunately that didn't last long either, so I went through my stash of yarns. And when my stash was depleted I began using, sparingly, my own hand spun yarns. I worked on the pieces all the time, carrying them with me where ever I went, nestled sweetly in a basket. I should mention, it was a cauldron shaped basket,  and yes it really went every where I went and anyone who knows me wouldn't bat an eye at a Cauldron Basket swinging from my arm full of yarns, hooks, and finished pieces. Finally, after many months, and much complaining, all the little triangles where ready to be sewn together. Four triangle sections to form one Log Cabin Square.

I began sewing the pieces together one summer night. My niece was staying with my Husband and I for the weekend and she would sit and talk with me as I worked on the blanket. We talked of the history this blanket had and how neat it would be to see it finally finished. I told her about Gram and how proud she would be to see it finished.  We laughed and talked making some mean comments and jokes about all the ugly colors and patterns of the blanket. But we both agreed that as ugly and as big as it was going to be, we loved it. From that night on, I referred to that Blanket as Big Ugly.

As time went by and all the triangle where sewn into place, the log cabin squares piling up in bags, in the corner of my room, I sat down one night and begin the finishing process. And as luck would have it my niece was once again staying the weekend with us. As the night drag on, as hot California summer nights tend to do, I was getting cranky. I whined about not wanting to finish the blanket, I whined about pricking myself over and over with a dull tapestry needle, and finally I whined about it being to damn hot to be working on a blanket anyway! My niece, asked if she could help, I said can you sew? A little, was the answer. I needed a break anyway and I am sure my husband was tired of hearing me whine about this big ugly blanket. I handed over the needle and thread and showed my niece the stitch I was using. She set right to work, happily stitching along and doing a pretty good job too! I went to the kitchen for a glass of water and stepped out on the patio to clear my mind over an evening cigarette break. When I came back in, my niece had the whole blanket, now nearly finished, laid out on the floor and she was still stitching way! Later that night it was finished, I couldn't have been more proud to see that blanket finished. It was big and it was ugly, but it had the craftsmanship of three women sewn into each stitch. Three women who had worked together over generations to create a treasured work of art, that still lives in my house. Big Ugly is a symbol of my families love that we have for each other and whenever someone spends night, Big Ugly is there to keep them safe and warm.  I wish Gram could see, what my niece and I have done with the humble begins of her blanket.

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