DIANNA SHOMAKER
As a child of the depression I had many opportunities in my life . We lived on a small farm that had pigs and cows , chickens and rabbits . There were fields to run in , trees to climb , a creek to splash around in , and most importantly a small swamp . In those open spaces with no commercial toys , my two brothers and I could explore and create . We built dams and lakes , cities of moss , found trilliums and Johnny Jump-ups , caught crawdads and flew our homemade kites fashioned from newspaper and twigs . Our imaginations were continually in operation . Mud pies were only the beginning . As I look back over those years there were clever creations not inhibited by technology . We smoked … i . e ., we “ invented ” cigarettes and matches from Horsetail reeds . And as we sat in the swamp and blew our imaginary smoke rings from our not-so-real cigarettes we made up stories and fantasized about the world as we knew it , often stimulated by studying the cloud formations and watching the trees seeming to fall over as the clouds passed behind them . The beauty in it all is that we weren ’ t old enough to be disproven by facts and events . Our world was small but our imaginations were grandiose .
Those days planted the seed for innovating from what I had , creating whatever I wanted , and experimenting with possibilities . That gift has stayed with me throughout my life . I love to experiment and create . I love to repurpose things and see things in a new light . I love the challenge of looking for depth in the mysteries of art , the meaning of tomorrow and the exhilaration of finding new ways of seeing things .