The kitschy, artful goodness of beaded fruit is quite special to me. When I see beaded fruit many quirky thoughts and memories rise to the surface. First and foremost is my Grandmother. I can’t say she was the most nurturing sort and was only in my life a somewhat short period of time, but for some unknown reason, she enjoyed making beaded fruit. This was her jam! I can’t remember her doing any other type of craft. She enjoyed two things that I can remember…betting on the ponies and making beaded fruit.
As a 7-year-old, a bowl of sparkly sequins and beads is the ultimate. She invited me to help her for an hour or two of beadazzling only a couple of times, but clearly this left a warm impression. I vividly remember asking myself, was the pain to make worthy of the beauty created? Pushing straight pins into plastic fruit can quickly leave a heavy dose of digit pain. The searing sensation can begin to pulsate in the end of my fingers if I think about making them today. The goal was to make enough fruit to fill the decorative bowl in the middle of the table. I may of started 4-5 pieces, but my Grandmother finished them all. Once the goal was accomplished, she was done, and so was the creativity….and that was that.
I sometimes think of this memory and experience as the launch pad to my own personal creativity. A somewhat sparkly, painful craft project was the turning point in my own originative spirit. I learned that adding your innovative twist to a common object was possible….and certainly in my future. I so wish I had her beaded fruit, but it disappeared over the years. The above picture was fruit I found at an estate sale. Every time I see it, I think of two things …my grandmother and the horse races.
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