The Child-Artist's Mother

I recently read Home Sweet Home, a picture book of Mary Engelbreit's dream house (an old English cottage) in St. Louis, her hometown. Whether you care for her work or not, there is no denying her artistic and commercial success. Her home was a tiny bit surprising to me in that some rooms have a great deal of the Mary Engelbreit look, and some do not. (Even she says it would be hard to live in a whole house of red hearts, black Scottie dogs, and black & white polka dots.) Her collections are staggering, more 3-dimensional collages.

What intrigued me was a cozy little hideaway she created by lowering the ceiling of a 2-story entry, in order to add a tiny garret-type studio to the house. (Rest assured, she has a studio off-site; this is just her little creative space at home.) She is a night owl who works into the wee hours, after the rest of the house is sleeping. There is a twin bed in the room, for times when she wants to catch a few hours' sleep during the night.

Family pictures in the book evidence an untold story, and I Googled for further information. I came across this article, written by Mary herself in Daily Guideposts, an inspirational newsletter, wherein she describes her path from talented and tenacious child artist to talented, tenacious, and successful adult artist. The most compelling passage shows the degree of support offered by her parents:

… when I was nine years old, [I] hurried home to tell Mom that I had met my first real artist. She was a woman who sometimes baby-sat for us and had her own studio set up in her basement. "Mommy," I announced, "I need a studio."

Mom didn’t say, "Honey, we don’t have space for you to have anything like that" (which we didn’t). She merely nodded matter-of-factly as though my request made perfect sense—and emptied our linen closet. Out went the vacuum, mops, and towels, and in went my desk, chair and pen-and-ink set. I sat crammed in there for hours, learning how to draw by copying the illustrations from my mother’s and grandmother’s old-fashioned storybooks….

Mary's mother read to her and her sister early on and her books of choice were vintage children's books with old-fashioned illustrations. Mary taught herself to draw by duplicating the pictures. She honed her skills until eventually she was able to sell some illustrations to a greeting card company. Meantime she had the good sense to marry a man who supported her efforts so completely, that they lived on his meager social worker's income just so she wouldn't have to work at anything but perfecting her art.

Mary seems to have a complicated personal life—it's clear it hasn't been a "Chair of Bowlies." But the unstinting support of parents (and later her spouse) remind me again of the influence for good that an adult can exert in a child's life, a theme I've given much thought to since watching the recent PBS documentary, "Country Boys." I wonder, is there a child, a spouse, a friend, or a total stranger in my world who could use a little encouragement?