By Diana Vallette
“If you’re alive, you’re a creative person.”
— Elizabeth Gilbert, “Big Magic”
I would rather swallow a tarantula whole than upset another human, but today I’m going to chance it. I’ve gotten to do a lot of really cool things because of this column. There was the time I got Botox thanks to the ladies at Renaitre, the time I made pasta from scratch while drinking (too much) wine with friends, and the time I took a pickleball class. I’ve been stretched, I’ve gone rum tasting, I’ve done trivia and I’ve been color analyzed.
It’s been a great time, but of all the things I’ve gotten to experience over the past year, Lil Art House was my hands-down favorite. Considering I walked out of the building bleeding and in desperate need of a massage, I think it speaks volumes to what’s going on there.
First, you’ll need to know I’m not an artistic gal … at all. The fact that Lil Art House has the word “art” in it almost made this a no-go for me. But because a ton of people had been singing the shop’s praises, I decided to keep an open mind and give art a chance.
Leslie Abraham opened Lil Art House in March of this year. She came up with the idea when she was visiting her daughter in New Orleans. Abraham had to find something to occupy her time while her daughter worked. She walked into The Shard Shop, fell in love, and walked out with an idea for Southwest Louisiana.
When you enter Lil Art House, you’re greeted by the nicest women on the planet. Abraham is sunshine in a bottle, and she must have kindness as a job requirement, because all of the ladies who work with her are every bit as delightful.
After you’re properly showered in their sweetness, you’ll be prompted to scan a QR code and sign a quick waiver stating you won’t sue them for everything they’re worth in the event you hurt yourself. Then you walk over to choose your design.
There are several binders full of different stencils like rosaries, nutcrackers, Christmas trees, flowers — almost anything you can think of. If you don’t see something you like, the ladies will cut something out just for you. They cut out a “Lagniappe” stencil for me. (I ended up not incorporating it because I couldn’t figure out how to make it look pretty.)
“You don’t want to place a gigantic stencil on a small canvas or vice versa,” Abraham told me. The first step, she said, was getting the scale of the thing right. “You want the design to make sense on the canvas you choose.” She prompted me to hold my stencil up to the different canvases hanging on the wall. I went with a Louisiana stencil on an 8 x 10 canvas. There are a ton of pre-painted canvases, but if you don’t find a shade you like, you can paint your own. I went the pre-painted route with a beige canvas.
After you’ve chosen your canvas and design, you’re given a box with safety gloves, safety glasses, a glass cutter (called a knipper), a pen, a pencil, tweezers and chalk. You’re also given several plastic cups. Now it’s time to go shopping. You walk around the shop and fill each cup with the supplies you’re interested in using. I grabbed a ton of black glass. Lil Art House keeps their glass well organized by color, and they source their materials at garage sales and also take donations.
“It’s been really nice to go on garage sale day dates with my husband, Scott,” Abraham said. “We usually hit them up at the end when everything is marked down.” Abraham instructed me to trace the Louisiana stencil onto my canvas using the pencil and then handed me a gold marker to go over it since “pencil is ugly.”
Once you have all of your materials, the sweet ladies will give you a quick course in glass cutting. While you’re cutting, you’ll need to have your gloves and safety glasses on.
“It’s the most peaceful experience; no one is on their phone. People actually speak to each other and interact. You’re in no rush,” Abraham said. There is no time limit on your creating, and there is no upcharge. You pay one fee per canvas (the one I chose was $39), and all of the materials are included.
“You know, if God is the ultimate creator and we were made in his image, we must be creative, too. Even if we don’t think we are. People come in here all the time and say they’re not artsy. I tell them ‘you are, you just don’t know it yet.’”
I start cutting pieces and laying them on my canvas, and in about 30 minutes I’m done.
And I hate it.
“Is it normal for people to completely finish and then … hate it?” I ask one of the employees. She laughs and says it happens all the time. “You’re overthinking it,” she says. “There’s something about the first hour that is just for settling in. I notice after that time the customer will usually get in a flow, and that’s where the magic happens.”
I take all of the glass off my canvas and start over. I’m cutting and laying and cutting and laying. Forty-five minutes pass, and I’m done for the second time. Still hate it. I clear my canvas and pray that I’m 15 minutes out from the aforementioned ‘flow’ because my neck and back are starting to ache.
“When you’re placing the pieces, you can manipulate them better if you’re not wearing gloves,” one woman tells me. “Just make sure when you’re cutting you put the gloves back on.” She walks over to show me how to properly nip the ends of the glass so they fit in the space where I’m going to place them. Up until this point I’ve been cutting and placing with no rhyme or reason. I didn’t realize we should be cutting strategically.
I cut a piece and then remove my gloves to place it. I do that a few times before I get tired of taking the gloves off and on. I break the rules and cut the glass without my gloves on. I end up cutting my thumb and bleeding all over my (white) shirt. I’m worried I’m going to get in trouble, so I wrap my thumb up in paper towels, say nothing and finish my work.
I don’t want to jinx it, but at this point I actually start to like what I’m making. There’s an office Christmas party happening at the table next to me, and they’ve brought in Casa Manana and Twanie’s. I enjoy listening to their group chat while I lay my glass pieces. Thirty minutes pass and I’m done. And I don’t hate it. In fact, I actually like what I’ve made.
One of the sweet ladies comes over and pours Elmer’s clear glue over my work of art to hold the glass pieces in place. My canvas will stay at Lil Art House for a couple days. They’ll epoxy it and let it dry and give me a call once it’s ready to pick up. I get brave and ask my new friend, “Let’s say, for instance, some annoying woman didn’t listen to the rules and was now bleeding from the thumb, would you have a band-aid for such a lady?” She laughs and hands me one.
I’m so sad I didn’t think of starting a business like Lil Art House before Leslie Abraham did. The employees are kind and bubbly; the profit margin must be really great, as they’re using mostly recycled or donated material; and you’re giving people a relaxing environment to spend time with loves ones while creating something beautiful.
I’ve tried other artsy activities, and my finished product never looks as good as the instructor’s or even my peers’, but at Lil Art House your finished product will look like you actually know what you’re doing — even if you’re like me and have no idea. I think that’s why I liked it so much. I spent a couple hours in a warm, calm, welcoming environment. I created something I actually liked. It’s an affordable activity, and it’s something new and different for Southwest Louisiana.
In my experience, Lil Art House is for everyone, even the art-dumb. And I’m a big, big fan.
Have an idea for Diana’s next experience? Let her know by emailing her at diana.vallette@gmail.com.
Comments are closed.