For most of my life I thought I was the only one in my
family who wasn't artistic. My Dad did leatherwork and photography, Mum
painted, crocheted, embroidered, you name it, my brothers could draw, build
anything, and even sew. I always wished I could be an artist, it seemed like
such an amazing thing to be, but I accepted what I thought was my lot in life
and instead became a writer.
I wrote stories and poems, clues for treasure hunts,
limmericks for friends. When I got older I wrote travelogues and magazine
articles, newspaper columns and books, online pieces on food, medieval life,
travel, and self-sufficiency.
I loved it, still do, but every time I went to a gallery or
exposition I felt a longing for artistic expression and wondered if artists
knew how lucky they were to be able to do what they did.
Then I had what my husband and I describe as the Great
Darkness. Others might call it a breakdown, an undoing, depression, PTSD.
Regardless of the label, all I knew was that everything in me crumbled and I
was utterly lost and didn't know how to be found. All the darkness I'd been
pushing down over the past two decades came in like a hurricane, forcing me to
face it and deal with it.
And I did.
I faced the religious cult that abused and brain-washed me.
I faced the molesters who thought it was OK to touch me knowing I was too
broken to stand up to them. I faced the church that crushed my spirit and made
me believe I was worthless and unlovable. I faced those who covered up the abuse or
downplayed it because it made them uncomfortable and afraid. I faced all the
shame and loss and betrayal and abandonment, and I grieved and raged and
forgave and loved and somehow, amazingly, found the brave, loving, jolly,
creative me that had been there all along.
During that time my husband, Bear, introduced me to the
world of medieval enactment. It became a safe place for me to watch and learn
and experiment as I faced the sad things and healed.
I got to research and
learn about medieval art and medicine, food and clothing, how they ate,
lived, fought, loved, and believed. I went from not knowing much of anything to
designing and making medieval clothing, building medieval furniture, and
growing and harvesting fruits, herbs, and vegetables to brew medieval wine and
make traditional foods and folk medicines. I tested, experimented, photographed, and documented everything, and last year published a book of
medieval folk remedies. I also learned
wood-burning, known as pyrography, a medieval craft where hot metal is used to
burn designs into wood. It is my happy place, a soothing, gentle craft that is
almost meditative in its cadence. Whenever I'm stressed and anxious, a session
of wood-burning never fails to calm me down, help me focus, and get me back on
track.
Soon I was selling wood-burning and books at medieval
events, markets, and online, and one day it hit me: I am an artist. I've always
been an artist. I just needed to heal enough to make a safe place for my artist
self to emerge. It makes me smile every time I think of it. I'm a photographer
and writer, pyrographer and medicine-maker, recipe-developer and home brewer.
In the end it all boils down to this: I love making things and sharing them
with others.
I continue to write and take pictures and burn original
images into wood. I'm working on a book of medieval Bedouin recipes, another on
medieval spices, and am creating new designs to pyrograph. This year I hope to
expand my wood-working skills by designing and making my own wooden implements
and furniture to wood-burn.
My heart is full as I look back on all the goodness that
came out of the Great Darkness.
This is Week 26 of 52 Artists in 52 Weeks. Thank you for reading and sharing Krista's story today. To see more of her work and to connect with her, please visit the following links:
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