Upheaval

 

Sometimes the chaos on the inside becomes apparent on the outside. At least, that’s presently the case in my family’s life. We have known for the past six months or more that my mother needed knee replacement surgery. In fact, we learned last fall that she would first need cataract surgery in January followed by knee replacement in May. As I have written, my mother hates to be vulnerable in any way. A certain need to be in control at all costs has been ingrained in both my Mom and me. It’s not a desire to be the boss. It’s a desire to be healthy and strong in order to take care of those around us. There are lots of reasons for this belief, not least of which is the fact that our house, smack dab in the middle of town, functions in many ways as Grand Central Station. Add to that our big family with all the happy challenges and complications that brings, and there just isn’t time to be sick or out-of-commission. It has taken a concerted war effort to get Mom to the point of acceptance that her surgery needs to be done, but that hasn’t stopped a storm of anxiety from churning inside her and if I am to be honest, myself as well.

This last week the storm spun out of control. My mother wanted some minor renovations done to the house prior to surgery – some bars put up in the bathroom, a railing by the downstairs steps – or so she claims. I think this may have been Mom’s master plan to postpone surgery. Because no sooner had these minor renovations started than a major overhaul ensued.

“You’re not really planning major renovations to the bathroom three weeks before your surgery?” I asked, as my parents began to look at walk-in showers.

That’s exactly what they were planning. This became apparent as the handyman arrived, removing rotten floorboards, broken toilet flanges, and the like. Granted, the bathroom was sorely in need of a makeover. Turns out only a few floorboards were not rotted through and the bathtub was indeed ready to come through the kitchen ceiling. Yet, I still looked at my parents in wonder two days later when my mother expressed that she hadn’t thought it was going to take this long and my father had yet to order any of the appliances all of which supposedly would take four weeks to deliver. This is sort of par for the course in my family. And, as much as it drives me crazy – I’m left pondering are these people plain nuts, oblivious or mad geniuses – it always seems to work out for them in the end.

Today, we went to visit Mom’s surgeon for her pre-op appointment and he declared that there was no way Mom should have her surgery amidst this upheaval – see, you might conclude this her plan after all – but he also put our minds at ease saying she could postpone to July or even this fall if she’d like. Her knee would not deteriorate too much more in that time, although he acknowledged it is a horrible case. Still, being granted this small reprieve to get the house together and our minds around the situation was exhilarating. I think we both felt like prisoners being given a new lease on life.

The renovations to the bathroom aren’t the only stressful things going on at the moment. Both my father and I are also having some health issues, so it’s probably best not to put Mom under the knife until her support staff has received a clean bill of health. But I had to laugh as I stared at our gutted bathroom and the whirling mass of wood and rubble surrounding it, seeing it as a certain metaphor for the emotional havoc we have all been experiencing over the last six months. What is it they say about the best-laid plans of mice and men? They often go awry? I would agree with this, but I think, in this case, Mom’s plan came to fruition – she got a stay of execution. I am only left to wonder what brilliant tactic she will employ next time around.

Perhaps it’s just a series of delays. Two days into the project, we learned that the handyman was going on vacation for a week. “Did you know he was going to do this when he began?” I asked. “You realize that you were supposed to get your surgery next Friday and that there is no way he could have ever finished in time? Plus, is Dad ever going to order the appliances?” Mom simply stares at me nonplussed and seemingly innocent.

Then again maybe it’s not a cleverly manipulated scheme. Maybe it’s luck or as I mentioned, an outward manifestation of the anxiety we’ve all been feeling. Perhaps our bathroom’s disarray represents the chaos we’ve been experiencing and thus, now as we take a breath and calm ourselves, it will magically right itself – the renovation coming together in brisk order with sparkling new appliances standing as testament to the sparkling new knee joint to come. Perhaps each will emerge as we make ourselves ready for them.

Scenes from the Montshire

The Montshire Museum has a tower. While an elevator takes you to the second floor of the museum, you have to climb several more flights to get to the top of the tower and see this wonderful view. It's not that high up, but when you've been on the go with a toddler all day, it seemed formidable.  When Christian was little, however, I climbed the tower with him so as tired as I was today I decided to go up with Ellie. It was worth the trip.

Here's another view, climbing up to the Tower. That's my Mom waving to us as we go up, up, up!

Gretchin claimed she wanted to bring Ellie to the Montshire because she loved it so much, but I think it was Gretchin who wanted to return. She spent more time than Ellie playing with the bubbles.

Ellie loved the spinning disks and balls and eating the bubbles!

While the rest of the clan played at the various exhibits, I took some time out to photograph this great fish in the aquarium. I am absolutely positive that he was posing for me. He swam in place the whole time I was snapping photos, swimming away only when the shutter stopped clicking.

Blue Skies

It's supposed to rain tomorrow (Saturday) here in central Vermont and it is much needed, but we've been having our share of blue skies lately and I've been  enjoying them. Here's wishing for a summer full! Have a good weekend and tune in tomorrow. I promise I'll have more to write. My plans for the weekend include an art show, my nephew's Tae Kwan Do tournament, a movie, Mother's Day lunch and an afternoon jaunt on Sunday with my niece Ellie to the Montshire Museum. What are you planning?

Beautiful Day

The light, the warmth, the color. This picture says it all; it was a beautiful day.

Writing Prompt: Now it Springs Forth

Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? ~Isaiah 43:19

I discovered this scripture a couple of years ago and was struck by it; drawn to the phrases “a new thing,” “springs forth,” and “do you not perceive it.” We live in a cynical, weary world, where it seems we have seen it all before. In such a world, what would a new thing be? And, springs forth? That’s such an energetic phrase. It implies something visible, tangible, happening, and yet at the same time, the phrase “do you not perceive it,” implies being blind to such an event.

I’ve thought of this scripture often since I first heard it, looking for the new things springing forth in my life that I might be overlooking. Today, the words hit home literally. The temperatures have warmed up, hinting that spring is here, but while my friends in slightly more southern climes have been talking about gardens and posting pictures of blooming flowers for days, if not weeks, already, I had yet to glimpse such signs in my own back yard.

Suddenly, I realized that I hadn’t been looking. I grabbed my camera, put on my favorite 50 mm lens and went outside in search of new things. I found life all around me. Although the ground was still mostly comprised of brown tufts of earth, torn up by winter snowplows, plants and trees were budding everywhere. I just had to get close enough to see them.

If by taking this verse literally I found so much life springing forth around me, I wondered how many other new things are occurring daily that I just don’t see. So many days seem filled with the same routine – get up, conduct interviews, write articles, correct papers, teach. I am so caught up in the weft and warp of daily life I forget to see how the threads weave together. A creative spark lies within each of us. I feel it bubbling beneath the surface. I sense something new around the corner. I now work to train my eyes to see it.

Here, is what I saw today:

Writing Prompt: What Springs Forth in Your Life?

Writing Prompt: Hopen 4 Peace

Four years ago I stumbled upon information advertising a memoir-focused writing conference in Woodstock, NY. Because I teach memoir, I signed up. I have to admit that I was drawn to the allure of the famous or should I say infamous town, known in name at least for being the home of Woodstock, the 60s music festival. The actual festival took place in Bethel, but it is Woodstock that is forever linked with this cultural milestone.

I fell in love with the town and the festival and have been going back annually ever since. It’s always been a bit of a retreat for me. It was one of the first places that I actually “escaped” to on my own – traveling alone and not really letting anyone know where I was – so that first year, I felt a wee bit of a rebel. I celebrated my freedom and honored the Woodstock mystique by getting a spontaneous tattoo of a peace symbol on my way out of town. I had two other tattoos when I got this one, but both of those had been planned out and held very specific meaning, this one I got on the fly without thinking. And, I was so proud of myself for doing so.

It was at the Woodstock Writers’ Festival that I befriended or was befriended by Maria Wulf and Jon Katz, two people that have become friends and powerful creative influences on this blog and my work. Last year I was sick when the festival rolled around, so I missed the first day. I remember showing up in time for an evening event. It was cold and rainy, but I was excited to be there.

To me one of the joys of the event, in addition to being exposed to a wealth of world-class writers, is wandering the streets taking photographs. Color, light and character fill the streets. I have stumbled upon drumming circles and a  “hippie” parade that made me feel like I had actually traveled back to the sixties. My first year there I visited this eclectic gift shop and bought myself a pink wig. When I am there, I am unfettered and free. The pink wig reflected this somehow.

Shortly after I returned home I attended a class on using the computer to create art. Unfortunately, the class was horrible. Students had so many computer problems just getting started that the teacher never even got a chance to start the class. The good thing was this gave me plenty of time to experiment and I ended up creating my first digital collage, using images I had snapped in Woodstock. It was a self-portrait and looking at it now, I realize I was already doing some of the things that have become my signature such as combining hand drawing with the digital photography. I loved the result both as a work of art and as a self-portrait. I didn’t think much when I was creating this, I just enjoyed myself, but there is something about it that is just me.

The woman in this picture is a free-spirit, she seems to be smiling, happy, energetic, but she is also peering from behind a curtain, lace covers her ace, she is not looking out with her own eyes, but rather those that are bedazzled – you question whether the eyes mask her from you or vice versa. There is a part of me that is out there, open and free, a part that is veiled. Perhaps that is the case with most of us.

The cranberry peace symbol in the upper right corner, by the way, is my actual tattoo. If you look below it the girl in the mirror where’s a different face. Her reflection is more open. It is not veiled. I like the words for which the piece is named, Hopen 4 Peace. These were snapped from a sign on a Woodstock storefront. They speak of something both universal and personal. It is what we all seek.

I leave for the Woodstock Writers’ Festival tomorrow and will return on Monday. I will be bringing my computer and ipad with me and will try to blog as I can, but the days are pretty packed with activity, so bear with me. I’ll post as I can.

Writing Prompt: Where Do You Go to Escape?

Prayers

 

Limited Edition Print on Sale: Dogs Dancing at the Carousel

I'm excited to add my latest collage to the gallery tonight. Not only do I really love this piece, both the final product and the themes and images it conveys, but I am also thrilled to offer it as my first Limited Edition print. I am going to offer a series of 100 and to celebrate am presently offering them for the sale price of $55. The sale will end in the next couple of weeks and after that the price for a matted 16 x 20 print in a clear plastic sleeve will go back up to $75.

I am thrilled that my friend, Jon Katz, author of Dancing Dogs, purchased one of the artist proofs the other day. His wife, Maria Wulf, wrote about the piece on her blog today. I actually used two of Jon's dogs in the piece. His border collie, Red, is in the middle right of the collage, wearing a brown hat and dancing with the pug in the pink tutu. His deceased border collie, Izzy, is sticking his head out of the left-hand side of the carousel. I actually added Izzy after Jon saw an early draft of the collage and said he wanted to buy it. I decided to include Izzy as an added treat, although Red had already made his debut.

Although I use a combination of techniques from photography to hand-drawing to digital drawing to create my collages, this is the first time I so prominently mixed hand-drawn figures in with photographed ones. You can see the hand-drawn couple at the right of the image. I actually originally drew them as part of a series I was doing on the seven-deadly sins. The two pugs were supposed to be fighting and represent wrath, but when I finished them, I realized they looked like they were dancing and transformed them into partying pugs celebrating New Year's Eve for a New Year's post.

When I realized I was creating a collage of dancing dogs I decided to resurrect this couple and add them to this piece. The idea for the overall collage came from the iconic photograph of an American sailor kissing a woman in New York City. I knew I had the photos of the poodle and the Akita that take center stage and I thought they along with the carousel in the background conjured the same sense of romance and nostalgia that I see in Alfred Eisenstaedt's photograph. The rest of the dogs appeared on stage to dance, frolic and round out the scene. I love the idea of dogs dancing and it is a happy coincidence that Jon wrote a book by the same name. I think the image of dancing dogs reflects the happy-go-lucky nature of our canine friends. Although we love our dogs and share our lives with them, they are often at our feet or at the end of our leashes, yet, here they are free to celebrate and do their own thing unencumbered by a human hand. Here, the humans blend in to the background.

I love the lumbering Newfie to the right of the image. In reality, this photograph was of a large Newfoundland I met in our local dog park who was rolling in the dirt. By turning him on end, he is dancing. This piece is fun to me, but also tender and touching. Perhaps it is because we know the dance will eventually end, but maybe not. Here, it goes on forever.

Again, this collage is available on sale in the gallery and will be limited to 100 prints in addition to the few artist proofs already in existence. If you have any questions about my process or the piece feel free to inquire through the contact form on the blog or in the comments of this post.

Writing Prompt & Self-Portrait #13: This is Me

Of all the self-portraits I took for my self-portrait project, this adult photo of me is perhaps the most natural, the most like me on an average day – there are better photographs, sexier images, versions of me to which I aspire, but this is how most people are likely to find me – bright coat, silly hat, on the go with a smile.

The childhood me looks equally happy. She has the same wide brown eyes and a hint of the same smile. I am happy I’ve grown more hair. She appears as comfortable on the hood of this car, as the adult me is behind the wheel. I don’t recall this picture, but my parents are attached to it. They look at it nostalgic for the cute little car and the cute little baby.

Sometimes we look at photographs and don’t recognize ourselves at all. I see me clearly here. I am on my way to work, off to do an interview or write at Books-a-Million. I’ll return home when it’s dark and I am tired to be greeted by my pugs, sitting in a basket of hats, scarves and mittens by the door. Tomorrow I might do the same. Like everyone, I have regrets and longings, hopes and dreams; many of which are coming to light in the posts on this blog, but I look at these pictures of me – both child and adult – and can say, that although there is still so much I want, so much I am looking for – on most days, I’m honestly happy.

Writing Prompt: A student in my memoir writing class once asked another to write a story that really showed who she was, that said "BAM, this is me." Try it, share a memory that shouts "BAM, this is me!

Listening with the Right Ears

As the photo reception was winding down today I had the opportunity to chat with another of the photo club members. She congratulated me on my third place win and then began to tell me how there had been a lot of discussion among the judges regarding my entry, Shadow Girl, in the pictorial/abstract category.

“I was busy hanging things, so I got to overhear a lot of the discussion,” she explained. “They liked it because it told a story, which is what they said a photo should do. So, even if they didn’t like a few technical things, they really liked the photo. There was a lot of back and forth on it,” she said.

A part of me was pleased by this fact. I was already happy with the honorable mention and it was nice to hear that the photo had generated so much conversation, but another part of me, a part with which I am all too familiar, heard only one thing she was saying – “so even if they didn’t like a few technical things…”

What technical things? I thought. What did I do wrong?

Of course, I know that this was only a choice of words on the photo club member’s part. She was trying to explain why I received honorable mention as opposed to one of the higher awards and of course, there were probably a few technical considerations in drawing this judgment, but this knowledge did not stop me from picking at her words like a scab. Rather than absorbing the compliment she was trying to pay me, a part of me could only concentrate on what was wrong. What didn’t they like? I thought. What did I do wrong?

Such thoughts quickly spiral out of control like a negativity avalanche – what did I do wrong becoming what do I do wrong and then will I ever get it right and finally can I ever get it right?

I don’t like this part of me. It’s as if I’ve been trained to listen with wrong ears – all the good words drowned out by one seemingly innocuous statement that turns instead to poison infiltrating through my pours and sticking to the inside of my heart and mind.

I am aware of this part, familiar with the fact that most fall prey to it at some time or other, certain that this tendency to dwell on the negative formed early in my childhood. And, since I am aware, I am working on changing. I can hear the compliment paid and delight in that knowledge that my work is good enough for judges to deliberate over. I am not a child any longer and just as my body has grown so has my ability to listen. I can hear both voices and choose to listen with the right ears.