Spoiler alert: Stella might not be a baby hen, after all.
He is a rooster. For sure.
Spoiler alert: Stella might not be a baby hen, after all.
He is a rooster. For sure.
“What makes something art?”
Janine, my ceramics classmate
She was flipping through a book about ceramics, filled with pictures of gorgeous vase after gorgeous vase, interspersed with a few that were a bit… less expertly executed.
“A 2 year old could make that!” I said, but quickly corrected to “a 5 year old” because it wasn’t quite THAT basic. Also, because it is ceramics, which requires some attention to physics and chemistry, it was maybe more along the lines of a young teenager quality. BUT it didn’t seem to fit with the other masterworks in the book, so we were wondering. “What makes something art?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. But it made me think. I do know, something.
Having recently watched the movie “Being Michelle,” observing her artwork and the role it played in her communication and healing, I do know that she is an artist. Whether or not her work ever hangs in a museum exhibit, is sold for beaucoup bucks, is published widely (beyond the movie) or whatever standard makes one a “good artist”, Michelle is without any doubt an artist.
An artist is someone with a message to share who shares it through some form of visual expression. A craftsman, on the other hand, is someone with skill in an artistic medium, or even in multiple media. Devoid of inspiration, a craftsman creates beautiful objects but doesn’t necessarily communicate with them. However, when inspiration strikes, when a message falls into the hands of a skilled craftsman, that’s when masterworks can be created. That is what is usually described as “good art.”
I know that I’ve been around long enough to have a few messages to share (hence the blog, I guess 😀), but some of my thoughts can’t be effectively expressed in words, so… art? I also feel called/inspired to make a lot of the works I create. Pretty sure all that adds up to declare that I am, in fact, an artist…
She was just a baby when her mom got killed, a victim of the great chicken massacre of 2023. Poor Belle, an outcast from the flock, since the only other survivor of the massacre was a broody hen named Tweetie. Yes, the same Tweetie who hatched our very first flock of chicks. She was sitting on eggs when the other chickens were slaughtered, which makes us doubt that the predator was a fox, who could have easily killed a sitting hen. (And, in fact, based on how terrified she was, for many weeks afterwards, of my husband, one might wonder if there was a human male involved, but I digress…)
Belle was lonely, trying to sneak into the flock, only to be chased away by momma Tweetie, and, more recently, little Honey, who is developing a notable comb and waddle. Though we’ve not heard him crow, yet, it seems but a matter of time. He acts like the self-appointed protector of the flock. Not a bad gig, as long as no one challenges him for it.
Back to lonely Belle, however. She spent the last couple of months trying to find some chicken friends, and being rejected. So it was a bit of good news for her when the rabbit who desperately needed adopting showed up in our radar… and wouldn’t leave. His owner refused to take “no” for an answer. So we looked up if chickens and rabbits can live together. My hubby found this article:
https://www.animalhearted.com/blogs/rabbits/can-rabbits-and-chickens-live-together
So we took in the little guy and introduced him slowly. As I’ve mentioned, he needed a name worthy of that adorable little soft sweet personality…
Together, Belle and Bunny (Binky/King Louis…) have been dubbed “Los dos amigos” because (cuteness alert) they are so adorable together. She’s been seen following him around, helping him clean his paws, sharing the leaf he’s eating and generally just hanging out together… It seems like she sees him as her protector from the other chickens aggression, because the rest of them are terrified of His Majesty.
Sometimes, I get these ideas in my head. Like one day, when I was in the tub, I had the idea I should try to stand up without using my hands, without using support of any kind other than getting to my feet… sort of a “power through and do this on my own” vibe.
It was an exercise in futility. A picture of how badly we all need support from other people.
And I’m still learning.