The Life of a Serial “Crafter” by Mandy Haynes

The Life of a Serial “Crafter” by Mandy Haynes

I’ve always loved making things. The first time I made something that felt like art, I was twelve years old. Mama and Daddy were gone somewhere and I went prowling around in my daddy’s woodshop. I found an old piece of barnwood and realized the ridges in the grain looked kind of like the fur of an animal. Don’t ask me why, but my imagination saw a mountain goat. I found the pencil Daddy used to mark his measurements and drew the silhouette of a ram with big curved horns. I stacked up some wood to stand on, turned on his bandsaw, and went to work. The blade hung up at the curve of the horn, but I figured out how to back it up without cutting off my fingers (completely ignorant of the fact that the blade could’ve snapped and taken off more of me than a finger). When I was finished, it looked better than I expected, and I couldn’t wait for Daddy to get home to show him what I’d done.

He wasn’t as excited as I thought he’d be when I put it in his hands. At first he didn’t believe I made it, then I got a lecture about how dangerous it was cutting such detailed cuts with a band saw in seasoned oak. Then I got a lecture about being in his shop when he wasn’t home.

Later that night I found him sitting at the kitchen looking at my masterpiece. He was grinning. “Doc,” he said. “This is good. But you can’t do it again.”

Well, he should’ve known better than to tell me I couldn’t do something. I drove him nuts until he finally showed me how to tell the difference between soft pine and hard oak and gave me a pair of safety goggles.

A few months later I’d cut out patterns for cutting boards, quilt racks, stepping stools, and all kinds of “folk art” nicknacks – lots of ducks and pigs. Remember the 80s? –and gave them for Christmas presents. I was hooked. My cousin, who was twenty years older than me, gave me all of her paints, paintbrushes, and tole painting workbooks, and for the next three years I painted everything I could get my hands on. I even figured out how to do reverse painting on glass (where I painted the highlights first and worked backwards on the opposite side of a piece of glass that I’d drawn pen and ink sketches on). Nothing was safe every shelf, nicknack, and salvaged window, got repurposed. I still have a wooden box I painted in 1983.

It was great being able to make stuff because when I got married I didn’t have two cents to rub together. I found ways to make one-of-a-kind gifts out of free stuff some family members still have today. When my son was about five years old, a cool little store on the square in Springfield, Tennessee sold my hand painted shirts and boyfriend jackets - men’s suit coats I’d buy at thrift shops and add lace handkerchiefs, elbow patches, and chains from repurposed thrift store jewelry to look like the chain from a pocket watch. I couldn’t afford to rent space in her store, but this sweet stranger took a chance and sold them on commission. They were a huge hit which helped out.

Life got busy. Once I started working at Vanderbilt I didn’t have time make items for my store, so I had to close shop.

My “art” was back to “hobby status” until my son started college. I started making jewelry and the sales from the earrings I made paid for his books, room, and board. I was back in business - now known as the crazy earring lady because I’d make fifty or more new pair at a time. I also taught myself how to crochet and knit. I don’t follow patterns - I make them up as I go, so trying to recreate a pattern when someone wanted matching items was hard. Fun fact - I made fifty-seven hats one fall to fill Christmas orders and stretched some ligament in my thumb.

It popped out of its socket-and I had to go to physical therapy for six weeks and wear a brace. The physical therapist nicknamed me KnitWit and LOVED telling the other patients, ones recovering from surgeries or horrible accidents, why I was there. I didn’t mind - it made them laugh - and seriously, it was kind of funny.

Then I discovered some scrap sheets of copper in my dad’s barn. I bought metal cutters, a propane torch, and fell in love with copper. Just like when I was a kid, I got a lecture about safety and then he gifted me with a roll of copper sheeting left over from one of his jobs. I LOVE working with copper.

Next, I took a silversmith class over a weekend and learned all kinds of different techniques. Another fun fact - the instructor had asked us what we wanted to make that weekend.

I listed off several things and she laughed. “Have you done silver work before?”

“No ma’am,” I replied.

“Well let’s stick to one project until you know what you’re doing.”

She had no idea how crazy I get when I’m learning something new - especially something I can make with my hands.At the end of the weekend I’d made three rings with gemstone settings, two pendants, a silver snake ring, and a pair of ear wires. The last day of the class the instructor whispered in my ear, “You’re a determined little shit aren’t ya?”

“You have no idea,” I said and we laughed so hard I almost fell off my chair.

I’ve done mosaics, scherenschnitte, stained glass, tin punch, Pen & Ink sketches, painted with every medium (not very well), mixed media, crochet, knitting, weaving, and even welded once. I made a sculpture with found objects - a horse shoe, mule shoe, horseshoe nails, a piece of pipe, some wire mesh, and a railroad spike from the scrap pile at a friend’s horse farm.

One day I will own my own welder…

I loved weaving!

This is a crocheted silver wire and freshwater pearl necklace I made for a bride who wanted something different.

My newest obsession is wet felting and Nuno-Felting - the art of fusing wool to silk and other natural fabrics. My felt is sold at a gallery here in Fernandina Beach called The Shady Ladies. There’s not that pressure to sell things like in the past (although the extra income does help) - I do it mainly for the excitement of creating something new while keeping my hands and overactive imagination busy.