For most of my life I have not thought of my parents as creative people. Children of the Depression Era, they both worked hard in and out of the home. But, as I reread Julia Cameron's book, Walking in This World..., I have come to understand a broader definition of being an artist.
My dad, while still in high school, made this cabinet. First, for his mother, and then it became his wife's sewing cabinet. The top drawer is still full of her sewing tools and the side shelves used to be full of patterns. I recall her putting patterns for ballet costumes, dresses, and aprons into those shelves, the tissue paper rustling within the McCall's envelopes.