An Angel Among Men

Dec 25

My husband often grumbles I pick up “female” art (see blog post “Biased Against Boys, 11/2/2023”), so it is appropriate my collection of male art takes over our home during December. I have gathered many Santa Claus statues, made in a remarkable number of mediums -wood, paint, paper, needlework, cloth, papier-mâché, gourds, and clay -but all handmade. These treasures were found mostly at local thrift shops, but a few came from estate sales or were made by me. I recently learned St. Nicholas, as Santa is formally known, is also the patron saint of brewers. As my hubby enjoys beer brewing, these fellows feel all the more appropriate. My husband now has his patron saint watching over our home all of December.

In addition, a bevy of snowmen grace our bookshelves. I have never parted with a snowman project made by my children, mostly from their school days. My collection is a bit tattered, and unfortunately not expanding (no more school art projects and all that). I am hoping a new generation of family members will gift their Nana some handmade additions to my male snow club (though we are nondiscriminatory and would be happy to add a female snowperson). Thankfully these snowmen are non-perishable, though there is one ceramic fellow who insists on losing his arm rather frequently. Some years I simply display him sans limb, but some years I glue the misplaced appendage back in place. My oldest son would bet you money this snowman was made by his younger brother, and while I actually don’t know, I also don’t want to find out. The joke in our family is my eldest son claims to have not an artistic gene in his body (I’m not so sure) and takes great offense that his younger brother’s art is treasured while his is not. This is not true, but I love the laughter that ensues. So Sans Limb Snowman will remain unattributed, but fortunately limbed (for now).

There is one lovely Angel residing in our home. It was made using a vintage quilt and real feathers, and is signed “Henny Curtis, 1994”. I picked her up at a flea market and she resides atop our tree each year. Other than this angel and a few treasures, most of these pieces are not signed. I often wonder why families part with such works of art, and it is sad to lose the stories behind their creation. But, clearly, my love language is to make gifts, so I appreciate the time and skill that went into these creations. I happily give them a home, and enjoy their uniqueness. But not to worry, there is a woman in charge: Angel Henny, sitting up on our tree, keeps an eye on those somewhat tipsy fellows lounging about the house.