Mama used to say that all three of her daughters had the need to create. That we were most fulfilled and satisfied when we dipped into the well of emotion and spilled its contents into an artform.

My older sister is a master seamstress and visual artist. Her unique ideas for those creations of hers come from deep inside her. Even her profession of pastry chef allows her to bake tiny masterpieces, exquisite delights for the palate.

My younger sister is also a master seamstress and visual artist. She made her living as an artist in the French Quarter for years, but lately, she has learned to feed her soul by harnessing the winds and riding the waves. She is her own canvas now.

This love of art has been passed to my daughter, who is also a visual artist like my sisters, but her forte (in my opinion) is her writing. She looks at the world through a different lens from me and opens my eyes to possibilities I never considered. Thoughts as words wafting through her window on the world are her gift.

And now Granddaughter strives to create as well. Recently, the blandness of the decrepit old oak chair beside her little school desk assaulted her pink and purple proclivities. She expressed to me her displeasure with this chair. So I asked her if she would like to paint a Yaya chair. There was no need to ask, really. Individualism is Granddaughter’s forte.

Yaya is an artform that originated in New Orleans as a channel for youngsters to pursue their aspirations. (It’s an acronym for Young Adults Young Aspirations.) Repurposed objects became their canvas, and self-expression blended the colors on the palette of their spirit. A Yaya artist can paint anything that bubbles up from the soul – except for words. True Yaya contains no words. Leave those to the poets.

Granddaughter and I started by priming the chair with Kilz. Then we gave it a base coat of pink, of course. One back leg became the lake with lily pads surrounded by pine trees, her vision of home. Hearts climbed the other back leg. A rain storm dappled one front leg while the setting sun melded onto the other. Geometrics and dots and swirls stripes wound their way around the seat and back slats. And the pièce de résistence, according to Granddaughter, was a layer of glitter after the paint dried. “I love a lot of glitter because it makes everything sparkly.” I love you because you make the world sparkle.

This is what the world needs – a new generation of souls to revive the weary world however they are capable of doing so. And when that soul is child, maybe the world just needs a Yaya chair.