I recently went through and decluttered what I’d call my “media of choice.” To keep things simple, for now we can just refer to them as hobbies, though for me they tend to be a little bit more than just a hobby. Especially needle felting, since I’ve made some income with it. I do have a post I drafted up to explain my process for figuring out how to do that, but right now I’m just trying to focus on getting myself back into the habit of blogging on a regular basis (and actually sticking to it this time). This post will be more “lightweight” in nature.

For me, watercolor and gouache are here to stay. Watercolor in particular is among my first loves, and while gouache is its own thing with its own techniques, they’re both similar in that they force me to get out of my head, push me out of my comfort zones, and put me in my place if I dare to get too fussy with them. You have to work with them on their terms. If you’re a perfectionist with a tendency to get controlling, they’ll train you to let go of that. If you’re impatient, or if you try to make them do anything they’re not meant to do, you end up with mud.

Over the last few years, I’ve been finding myself being pulled back to diving into my heritage. By this, I mean not only the cultural aspects of it, the music, folklore, mythology, art, craft, food, but also my family history. I don’t know if it’s in the air or what, but my father recently took it upon himself to scan in my mom’s old photos. One of those photos was that of her childhood home.

Although I’ve spent a significant amount of time in Poland (at least for someone who wasn’t born there, but the child of expats who managed to escape from behind the Iron Curtain - a story I may share another time), I never got to see this home. Unfortunately, it had been demolished long before I was born. My grandfather worked for Autosan, a bus manufacturing company based out of Sanok that still exists (and fun fact, was founded by the grandfather of Zdzisław Beksiński, a famous Polish painter). When my mom was in high school, the factory was expanding and purchased my grandparents’ land and home. My grandparents then purchased land elsewhere and built another one, but at this point my mom had gone on to college and essentially moved out. While the new home, where my aunt currently lives, is also really nice, I personally prefer this one. The newer one is more “modern” in design, but I feel this one has more character.

Despite appearances (since I know many would think this house is amazing compared to starter homes in the states, and in size it certainly appeared larger than the one my father grew up in), they weren’t part of the wealthy class. My grandparents built this home by hand. At this time, Poland was a Soviet satellite state, behind the Iron Curtain until well after I was born. My grandmother earned money on the side as a seamstress, while my grandfather worked in the factory next door as an iron/steel worker. They made do growing and raising their own food, including pigs and chickens, though my grandmother would still have to get up early in the morning to stand in bread lines. Much like today’s social media with carefully curated photos of idyllic life, there is a stark difference between the joyful pictures in my mother’s photo album and the stories of life under Soviet occupation. In one of the interviews with my grandfather long after my mother had grown up, moved out, graduated with a master’s in mechanical engineering and was working in helicopter production in Świdnik, he was asked if he had any last wishes/dreams before he retires - his answer was to get a car voucher for a Fiat 126 (which he never got, just some towels from the company that my mom still has).

There are no photos of the house in its entirety. Of all the photos, there really only two that I could use as reference photos. One was of my mom and aunt when they were very young with their mom and aunt from the side of the house (the photo above) - this photo showed the roof in better detail so that I could tell it had a diamond slate roof (well, either that or a metal roof, but definitely not asphalt shingles). The other, the photo below, was in my opinion the best and only view of the house that gives you an idea of the shape of what it must have looked like, at least from one corner of it.

I decided to make a painting for my mom (who doesn’t read my blog, so I’m not worried about spoiling anything by sharing it here). I don’t think she suspects anything, although I did have to ask her a few questions about it - what color was the stucco? What tree is growing next to the house? What are the shrubs along the fence? What’s the large one to the right?

She told me that the large shrub to the right of her mom is a damask rose (I planted one next to my house a few years ago after she helped me guess which one was the most like the one by her house). From this, she and her sister would pick the blooms to grind with sugar in a mortar and pestle to make rose jam - here is a recipe if you’d like to try this, and you don’t need to specifically use damask roses. In fact, many sources I’ve seen specify Rosa canina - dog rose - which is considered an invasive species in the US. That being said, all roses are edible, and the ones that have the sweetest fragrance will have the most flavor.

The tree next to the house (one of several according to another photo I saw) was a sour cherry. Sour cherries were great for making preserves, or cold cherry soup as a rare summer treat. It’s as delicious as it sounds. Note: read the comments at the bottom, the way the recipe is written is far too sweet. It is fruity, but it’s not meant to be that sweet.

The shrubs along the fence are a mix of red currants and gooseberries. Yards were for growing food. Everything served a purpose - even the flowers. Although the photo was taken during the summer, after the blossoms dropped and everything leafed out, I decided to take a bit of artistic liberty and add the flowers to the plants in my painting. I also removed the yard and fencing in front.

Above is the final painting. I found that I really loved bringing back these old photos, and with that the past, back to life. I am thinking that I may continue along these themes, asking my parents to share stories to go along with the paintings as I work on them. I think I know which one I explore next.