What Nots

Medium: Watercolor on paper

Date: 1987

The Meaning of What-Nots: Embracing the Whimsy Through Art 

Art, at its core, is an exploration of emotion, imagination, and the human spirit. For this week’s blog, I am featuring a watercolor diptych that holds deep personal sentimental value, representing my mom and grandma as fantastical creatures. These whimsical beings are more than just artistic expressions; they are deeply tied to my personal history and the cherished memories of my family. 

Grandma and the What-Nots 

During our parents’ divorce, my brother and I lived with our grandparents for six months, and occasionally during the next ten years. Grandma had a lot of what-nots, and an entire glass-enclosed cupboard filled with China and cut glass. After our afternoon naps, Grandma would take us to the China cupboard, select one piece, and tell one of her jolly and fascinating stories about it. She might hold it up to the light in the window, showing us how we could see her hand through a painted plate with its great story. These were very troubled times, and these pieces of China, along with their stories, became a kind of love for me. These what-nots were the love we knew. World War II had begun, and we knew that many of these kinds of what-nots were being destroyed. 

Mom and Her Quirks 

Mom grew up on a prosperous farm. Her papa built her 12 treehouses where she could read her favorite authors: Emerson, Thoreau, Hawthorne, and Shakespeare. After World War II ended, Mom remarried and bought 40 acres a few miles from town—a flat land with no trees and no neighbors. To create her romantic cottage, she purchased a chicken house, to which my new dad attached a hog house. He had a well dug for water, but we had no electricity or plumbing. The cottage was covered with tar paper. For two years, we were very happy in the cottage, the whole family playing gin rummy while my dad read Treasure Island and sang pirate songs. Mom read us all of James Fenimore Cooper’s books. Last of the Mohicans was my favorite. 

Mom had grown up with hired help (mostly Danish and Norwegian immigrants). My brother and I became the new immigrants in our household. Washing dishes involved pumping water from the well, hauling it into the cottage, heating it on the kerosene stove, and later throwing the water out. Mother liked pretty dishes—gold-edged ones with embossed borders of pheasants running in long grass, hand-painted flowers, etc. We had three sets of dishes, and we only washed them once a week. I washed; my brother dried, and Mom heated the water. The dishes were very pretty and precious. The embossed borders were often covered in dried-up egg yolk from Dad’s sunny-side-up eggs. A lot of care was necessary to avoid breaking the dishes. Ours was a solitary household with no relatives, neighbors, or adult friends visiting. After two years, Mom got Dad to stop drinking through an ultimatum. He went from being an ideal stepdad to being the meanest person we had ever known. 

Grandma and Grandpa had inherited good antique furniture and what-nots, much of it “brought over in 1846 by Great Aunt Sarah.” There was the settee that King Edward VII had sat on, for instance. Grandma was a “Daughter of the Civil War” and a “Daughter of the Revolutionary War.” Mom was, too. As our lives became more troubled, Mom retreated into the stories of the furniture and what-nots. There was a family tree going back to 1400 with stories, and these stories, along with the pieces of furniture and glass squeezed into our cottage, became our friends. Their lives became our lives. We talked to them and examined them daily. Did they speak to us? Maybe. Some were sold. This was like parting with a pet. We never touched each other except for daily corporal punishment, but we lovingly stroked the tables and caressed what-nots. I developed an attachment to them. 

A Journey into Childlike Wonder Through Watercolor 

In 1967, I moved to New York with the clothes on my back, a rucksack of my paintings, and the blanket I traded for a bottle of wine when I took the bus from San Francisco. I created this painting of what-nots 20 years later. I had many friends whom I loved but no committed relationship. There was loneliness. When I saw these what-nots at Sotheby’s, I responded unconsciously. I wanted some, so I made some. I was happy with them. What-nots are the love I knew. 

The whimsical creatures in my watercolor diptych, representing my mom and grandma, are an extension of this deep connection to the past. The first creature in the diptych is a delightful, horned animal that might remind you of a friendly, mythical beast. Its body is adorned with large, soft circles, almost like polka dots, adding a layer of innocence and charm. The creature’s gentle smile and welcoming expression invite you to see it not as a fearsome being, but as a comforting companion from a storybook world. On the other side, we meet a plump, cat-like creature, bursting with personality. With its exaggerated round body, irregular spots, and a slightly mischievous look, this figure radiates a playful energy. 

In creating these creatures, I embraced a style that harks back to the simplicity and wonder found in children's illustrations. The choice of pastel colors—gentle yellows, blues, and pinks—was deliberate, crafting a serene yet joyful atmosphere that makes the creatures appear as approachable and kind-hearted figures. The soft, rounded lines and smooth curves reflect a desire to create a sense of warmth and softness. There’s something comforting about a world where everything is soft to the touch, where edges don’t cut but cradle, where even the strangest creatures are friendly and inviting. 

Life Lessons from a Playful Canvas 

The process of creating this watercolor piece was more than just an artistic endeavor—it was a reminder of some of life’s most valuable lessons. 

Embrace Your Quirks: The exaggerated features and playful expressions of the creatures are a celebration of uniqueness. They remind us that it’s okay to be different, to have quirks, and to stand out from the crowd. In fact, it’s these differences that make life interesting and beautiful. 

Find Joy in Simplicity: The childlike style of the artwork serves as a reminder that joy often lies in simplicity. In a world that can sometimes feel overwhelmingly complex, there’s something incredibly freeing about stripping things down to their essence—soft lines, gentle colors, and playful forms. 

Nurture Your Inner Child: Perhaps the most important lesson of all is the importance of staying connected to our inner child. Creating this artwork was an exercise in slowing down, in savoring the process rather than rushing toward the end result. It was about finding happiness in the act of creation, in the playful exploration of color and form. 

Final Thoughts 

Art is often seen as a reflection of the artist’s mind and soul, and in this piece, I found myself reflecting on the beauty of embracing whimsy, simplicity, and joy. The creatures I created aren’t just figures on a canvas—they’re representations of the life lessons I strive to live by: embracing uniqueness, finding joy in the simple things, and nurturing the playful spirit within. So, the next time you pick up a brush, a pen, or whatever tool you use to create, I encourage you to tap into your inner child. Let go of perfection, embrace the quirks, and find joy in the journey of creation. After all, it’s in these moments of playful exploration that we often discover the most profound truths about ourselves.