Blood and Spirit

My Grandaddy Wilbur Pearson was so gifted, talented and hardworking, in the way we uphold that Greatest Generation. This is a cameo of my mother he carved in wood from an old apple crate. I grew up with this image burned into my brain and as children often do, I loved to hear the telling of its origin over and over.

This was how it looked from my little kid perspective. You can really see the the depth of the bas relief. I've seen the photograph he worked from, I believe it was of her at my aunt's wedding. I love her hairdo and the little cluster of flowers in the back.
What I came away from after my hours upon hours of studying this was A) a burning desire to carve wood, B) a high standard of woodworking and artistry to live up to and C) my mother was the fairest woman in all the land whose classic beauty inspired men to carve her likeness, like a Greek Goddess.

When I visited "The Grandparent Pearsons" as me and my sister called them at their home in Columbus Mississippi, I got to seriously study and covet this fine example of his skill. It's a replica of Napoleon's coach, probably about a foot long and perfect in every tiny, meticulous detail. Grandaddy was long enamored with all things French, he spoke a few phrases that he used at every occasion although he never got to go there. He started a lifelong tradition in my immediate family of pronouncing butter "buttoire" even though that is incorrect and "the table" "la tab-le", which is correct, as in "Put the buttoire on le tab-le".
 I was not allowed to touch the little coach, a fair enough rule for such a work of art, but I'll admit to tip toeing in the living room when all the grownups were taking their daily naps  and very carefully, silently opening the little door to sneak a peek of the interior, it was upholstered in that lovely Frenchy blue velvet and if memory serves, there was button tucking. To die for! Yes, it was beyond frowned upon, but I was a careful child and I never damaged it. My Grandmother Pearson always said "do as The Spirit moves you", and it moved me to soak up as much detail of this little work of art as my mind could hold.

Each time I carve, I summon his blood in my veins, generations of woodworkers and craftsmen. I'm lucky to have his influence as well as that of my Grandmother Pearson's father, my great grandaddy Hicks whose craftsmanship and love of trains also lives on through me.
When carving, I feel close to my ancestors, drawing power of their spirit through my hands guiding my chisels and gouges to take away all the surrounding material to free my creation hiding within the wood.
Here is a Rococo medallion with Laurel sprays and Louie flourishes I did for one of my favorite trumeaus.

I swear, I can feel my ancestors' spirit over my shoulder when I am in that creative zone. Maybe that's half the draw? And although I didn't have children of my own I know my spirit will live on through my nieces and nephew, and their children and on and on through the magic of common ancestry.
I hope to leave enough art behind me to serve as talisman for them to connect with their ancestors as I have, but the blood and The Spirit alone will be enough.