Bear with me as i crawl towards a moment or two of great interconnectedness...
A dear friend recently shared with me that she had another friend struggling with an issue. Her friend couldn't arrive at a solution to her problem. She looked at it from one perspective, then another and eventually...she saw what needed to happen in order to move forward. She felt as if she'd been "circling" around her challenge. When my friend told me this, it resonated deeply for me, on many levels of my life. And it reminded me of the reading that i've been doing on the Haida Indians of the Pacific Northwest and their devoted, humbling and deep relationship to nature -- especially birds and flight. The raven. The eagle. The transformation into and out of these creatures. Like birds, we humans often circle for that comfortable place to land in search of sustenance, shelter, companionship, the solution to a struggle, a place to dream and so much more.
For me, i realized that i've been circling this art project for months. when 2009 began in January, i had plan. (And for those of you who wish, there are 20+ blog entries before this to enlighten you on my process up to that point. happy reading!) But life events unfolded, our family paths and schedules grew complicated, there was much singing to be done and tick tock, time went by and few nails were driven into wood. And i began to lose focus. Perhaps i was flying too high to see clearly and circling about in confusion of how to keep this process going.
However, events of the past month have guided me to a secure landing place -- a branch that is thick and strong with support and whose protective leaves are unwavering during the blustery winds of doubt. this will make a good nest for me from which to sit and guide this piece back into fruition.
And what were these events of the last month? I'd say that it started with my first trip ever to Canada. In Vancouver, I listened to so much incredible folk music that could, on its own, be a blog but i'll spare readers of this. Upon traveling there with a couple of terrific adventurers, i was in search of a book that i thought would be great to read while en route: "A Story As Sharp As A Knife: The Classical Haida Mythtellers and their World" by Canadian poet Robert Bringhurst." I couldn't find it, but upon traveling there, I grew more and more interested in this book. Once back home, i bought a used copy off of Amazon while my traveling cohort loaned me a book from an exhibit she saw up there a year earlier on two centuries of Haida Art. The companionship offered between these two books is rich. One offers deep text of mythtelling and Haida life and the other offers incredible visuals that compliment and further illuminate the richness of this culture's way of life.
I was particularly drawn to the totems of the Haida communities. How they are raised outside the doors of the great houses that once stood between the forest's edge and sea's tide. How they faced the infinite waters of the sea -- representing the spirits of those who came before as a reminder of their role in the evolution of the Haida community. Canadian artist Bill Reid (d. 1998) explained:
"Above all (uses of the cedar tree),
you can build totem poles,
and the people of the Northwest Coast
built them in profusion:
forests of sculptured columns
between their houses and the sea,
proudly announcing to all
the heraldic past of those who dwelt there...
Each pole contained the essential spirit
of the individual or family
it commemorated,
as well as the spirit
of the artist who made it,
and, by an extension, the living essence of the
whole people.
while the people lived,
the poles lived,
and long after their culture died,
the poles continued to radiate
a terrible vitality
that only decay and destruction could end...
all things must die,
and great art must be a living thing,
or it is not art at all."
Well the readings of the Haida people, their stories and art brought me back to Rwanda's landscape and its people. and, again, my importance to memory was re-solidified, if that's possible. i knocked the dust off of a small piece of cardboard (a 2" x 4" saved covering from one of cooper or eleanor's beach tattoos out of a machine) on our bookshelf. 3 or more years ago, i had made a sketch of 6 stonehenge-like columns titled "Rwanda Triptych". They are spaced as such: 1 column. then space. then 2 columns. then space. then 3 columns. [ [[ [[[
1, 2, and 3 sets of columns representing 3 months. 800,000 lives lost in 3 months. maybe i'll get my scanning skills in order and scan the old sketch and new one so that it can be view alongside this reading.
In the middle of all this new inspiration for one American woman towards the Rwandan people through the vanishing culture of the Haida Indians, i sat with artist Linda Newman (and deep spiritual friend/guide) to talk about how best to express my energy now. She inspired me to acknowledge the fog of disbelief and disorder that i've been in surrounding this art project. I had to look at fear -- fear of success? fear of failure? and we did that together. And i walked away from her visit with the true belief that to move forward with this is really loving myself. And the active loving of self is vital. I just need to keep this alive and i trust that the financial support is out there, the time is available, the documentation of it is possible and the emotional and practical support swimming around me is almost unending.
And I want to thank any of you lovely people who have asked me about this. I've been embarrassed to answer about how little progress has been made on it, but i appreciate the continued interest and inquiries. Such support goes a long way. And now, time to restructure and reorganize and move forward. Which i will do. I decided that i would do at least one thing a day for this piece and that's a good place to start. So, early this morning, I wrote to two artist friends who are steeped in the work of art and memory. I asked if we could make a time to sit down and seriously hash out some of the practical questions that i have regarding 800,000 nails community project. Their advice and experience i know will be quite valuable.
A few hours later, one of them responded. Speaking for the two of them, she said that she'd love nothing better than to sit down with me and dream about a new piece of art for the memory of a people. She said she'd love to do that over a meal, sometime in September perhaps. But for now she's out of town...
"I am in the great Northwest headed for the Queen Charlottes to see the totems in situ and to meet with Haida chiefs with my friends who work on Native rights. It has been a life long dream."
I almost fell off of my rickety desk chair.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Let The Hammering Begin
Blessed are the new beginnings, for we shall have a chance at a new start. A revised perspective. The beginning of a new day offers hope after an awful one. The start of a new administration in this country offers a welcome end to a hideous, idiotic one. The turning of the page from one year to the next beckons a fresh start. As impermanence teaches us, we accept the fog of uncertainty when we are swimming in it, trusting that clarity will eventually emerge.
The last five months have been productive in life and art. So productive, that i've had little time to write about it. I had great success with a prototype of 10,000 nails on a 2' x 5' panel. The smaller sized nails worked. The varied types of wood worked. The panel came together and i was able to display it at our kids' elementary school. The annual "Festival de Otoño/Day of the Dead" was an appropriate setting, as it is the continual source of deeper inspiration for this piece. People of all ages looked at it, touched it, wound and wove red thread throughout the nails as they tried to grasp the enormity of this event, the place where it happened and the memorial aspect of the proposed piece. i was told that two men stood over it and spoke of family relations to those who died in Hiroshima and in German concentration camps of WWII. I heard teachers explaining to students the importance of remembering the spirits of others who are gone. Friends and acquaintances were moved, inspired and visually compelled. The chance to have the public contemplate this panel, touch it and interact with it was an experiment that worked, that propelled my efforts, that said to me "yes, this is doable. This is important."
Loving skeptics in my life have offered these comments recently:
"Did you finally give up on the nail idea?"
"You're not still going to do that, are you?"
"I still don't understand the reason for doing this."
Again, i love these questions. I need these questions to float to the surface now and again for pause and reflection. And i respond with this:
I have reached the age where i emphatically appreciate how art can function as a window to history. A gateway to history. History's caretaker. And once in a while, it may even play the role of momentary healer to a people's or a landscape's history.
And so, with resolve, i move forward. It is time. Also, there are so many other artistic endeavors and ideas that have grown from this journey that, i want to complete this piece so that i can embark on another, if i'm lucky enough to have that opportunity.
The prototype (see photos) worked on many levels. I realized that i can do this with a drastically reduced budget. The work space on the side of our house and in our garage is perfect and free. I have two storage options for completed panels...both, free. I am overflowing with recycled wood. Again, free. Costs that i had anticipated before are not necessary. The only expense over the next 3 months is nails, wood glue and varnish. For Jan-Feb-March are the 3 best months of this year that i can hammer and get all 800,000 nails into wood. The time has come.
And time will tell, as it always does, whether this hammering is putting the cart before the proverbial horse in the construction aspect of it. But, this is the time that i have to hammer, and hammer i must. As a folk artist, i trust that i will be able to attach the panels together even after the nails have been hammered, not before. That's a bit scary, but, as my friend Brett (a helluva worker who i had the honor of working with on many films) once said: "It's always best to start a new project with a bit of fear inside you." It forces one to rise to the surface and accomplish feats that one may never have accomplished before. it challenges one to push into new, unknown territories and be successful there.
Happy New Year. Let the hammering begin...
The last five months have been productive in life and art. So productive, that i've had little time to write about it. I had great success with a prototype of 10,000 nails on a 2' x 5' panel. The smaller sized nails worked. The varied types of wood worked. The panel came together and i was able to display it at our kids' elementary school. The annual "Festival de Otoño/Day of the Dead" was an appropriate setting, as it is the continual source of deeper inspiration for this piece. People of all ages looked at it, touched it, wound and wove red thread throughout the nails as they tried to grasp the enormity of this event, the place where it happened and the memorial aspect of the proposed piece. i was told that two men stood over it and spoke of family relations to those who died in Hiroshima and in German concentration camps of WWII. I heard teachers explaining to students the importance of remembering the spirits of others who are gone. Friends and acquaintances were moved, inspired and visually compelled. The chance to have the public contemplate this panel, touch it and interact with it was an experiment that worked, that propelled my efforts, that said to me "yes, this is doable. This is important."
Loving skeptics in my life have offered these comments recently:
"Did you finally give up on the nail idea?"
"You're not still going to do that, are you?"
"I still don't understand the reason for doing this."
Again, i love these questions. I need these questions to float to the surface now and again for pause and reflection. And i respond with this:
I have reached the age where i emphatically appreciate how art can function as a window to history. A gateway to history. History's caretaker. And once in a while, it may even play the role of momentary healer to a people's or a landscape's history.
And so, with resolve, i move forward. It is time. Also, there are so many other artistic endeavors and ideas that have grown from this journey that, i want to complete this piece so that i can embark on another, if i'm lucky enough to have that opportunity.
The prototype (see photos) worked on many levels. I realized that i can do this with a drastically reduced budget. The work space on the side of our house and in our garage is perfect and free. I have two storage options for completed panels...both, free. I am overflowing with recycled wood. Again, free. Costs that i had anticipated before are not necessary. The only expense over the next 3 months is nails, wood glue and varnish. For Jan-Feb-March are the 3 best months of this year that i can hammer and get all 800,000 nails into wood. The time has come.
And time will tell, as it always does, whether this hammering is putting the cart before the proverbial horse in the construction aspect of it. But, this is the time that i have to hammer, and hammer i must. As a folk artist, i trust that i will be able to attach the panels together even after the nails have been hammered, not before. That's a bit scary, but, as my friend Brett (a helluva worker who i had the honor of working with on many films) once said: "It's always best to start a new project with a bit of fear inside you." It forces one to rise to the surface and accomplish feats that one may never have accomplished before. it challenges one to push into new, unknown territories and be successful there.
Happy New Year. Let the hammering begin...
A Follow-Up to "The Effects of Repetitive Motion"
In updating this journey, five months later, i revisited the previous entry about the toll taken on a body that works in fields requiring repetitive physical motion. I make no attempt here to actually compare my work to that of the "strawberry picker, an assembly line worker and the factory seamstress" except to say that, when hammering, i get a glimpse of what they must feel and, i honor their efforts. In fact, glaring differences exist:
i am an artist by choice.
i am working at home, 14 blocks from the pacific ocean.
i work in fresh, cool air, under the shade of a tree.
i am doing this out of emotional and historical necessity, not an economic one.
10 steps away is a refrigerator with cold water any time i want it.
15 steps away is my choice of 2 bathrooms, clean and available, any time i need it.
i can listen to music that inspires me while i work.
i can rest when i want to or when i need to.
i can see my kids thriving after school at 2:30p, when i put the hammer down to go pick them up.
i have privilege and choice here. those who work tirelessly in the least popular occupations often have little or none of these options. it felt important to take a moment to acknowledge these differences.
i am an artist by choice.
i am working at home, 14 blocks from the pacific ocean.
i work in fresh, cool air, under the shade of a tree.
i am doing this out of emotional and historical necessity, not an economic one.
10 steps away is a refrigerator with cold water any time i want it.
15 steps away is my choice of 2 bathrooms, clean and available, any time i need it.
i can listen to music that inspires me while i work.
i can rest when i want to or when i need to.
i can see my kids thriving after school at 2:30p, when i put the hammer down to go pick them up.
i have privilege and choice here. those who work tirelessly in the least popular occupations often have little or none of these options. it felt important to take a moment to acknowledge these differences.
Monday, July 21, 2008
The Effects of Repetitive Motion
While trying to get 2400 nails into a 3 sq ft slab of wood in 3 hours, I gained new compassion for workers who earn their wages by doing jobs of repetitive motion:
the strawberry picker
the assembly line worker
the ditch digger
the factory seamstress
and many many others
Hard physical labor involving one part of the body doing the same movement over and over takes a toll on the whole. In simply hammering nails into wood, i would begin quite strong, but well-paced. Pick up a nail with the right hand. Stand it up on the wood. Bang it 3 to 4 times with the hammer in my strong left hand. Then I'd do it again. Easy. However, after about 50 nails, the hammer grew heavier. So i had 4 hammers to try -- all of differing weights. Of course one worked better for large nails. One, better for smaller nails.
Initially, I felt that the work would require the sheer strength of my fingers, hands and arms. However, performing the simple physical task of repeatedly hammering nails into wood reminds me of the body's interconnectedness. After 30 minutes, i could feel pressure in my upper left shoulder, which affected my posture and lower back an hour later. All of this work is done standing and, after a while, the body must shift the weight from the left leg to the right. And back to the left again. Then balance the stress equally on both legs. After 2 1/2 hours, I became aware of the fatigue setting in my feet and knees and their contribution to holding up all this activity.
What keeps me going is a meditation on a people and a place that i have no real, tangible connection with yet. Also, certain types of music inspire me while i work. I often play lots of music in the spanish language. And, though i don't completely understand these songs without sitting w/the english translations, certain familiar words that i do know would soar over my pounding:
"violencias" -- violence
"multitudes" -- multitudes
"defender" -- defend
"corazon" -- heart
"libertades" -- liberties
"la tierra" -- the earth
"injusticias" -- injustices
"innocencia" -- innocent
...and while those words rang in my ears, i bandaged a few fingers, put on fingerless work gloves, grabbed hold of the hammer and kept going. and i'll keep going.
the strawberry picker
the assembly line worker
the ditch digger
the factory seamstress
and many many others
Hard physical labor involving one part of the body doing the same movement over and over takes a toll on the whole. In simply hammering nails into wood, i would begin quite strong, but well-paced. Pick up a nail with the right hand. Stand it up on the wood. Bang it 3 to 4 times with the hammer in my strong left hand. Then I'd do it again. Easy. However, after about 50 nails, the hammer grew heavier. So i had 4 hammers to try -- all of differing weights. Of course one worked better for large nails. One, better for smaller nails.
Initially, I felt that the work would require the sheer strength of my fingers, hands and arms. However, performing the simple physical task of repeatedly hammering nails into wood reminds me of the body's interconnectedness. After 30 minutes, i could feel pressure in my upper left shoulder, which affected my posture and lower back an hour later. All of this work is done standing and, after a while, the body must shift the weight from the left leg to the right. And back to the left again. Then balance the stress equally on both legs. After 2 1/2 hours, I became aware of the fatigue setting in my feet and knees and their contribution to holding up all this activity.
What keeps me going is a meditation on a people and a place that i have no real, tangible connection with yet. Also, certain types of music inspire me while i work. I often play lots of music in the spanish language. And, though i don't completely understand these songs without sitting w/the english translations, certain familiar words that i do know would soar over my pounding:
"violencias" -- violence
"multitudes" -- multitudes
"defender" -- defend
"corazon" -- heart
"libertades" -- liberties
"la tierra" -- the earth
"injusticias" -- injustices
"innocencia" -- innocent
...and while those words rang in my ears, i bandaged a few fingers, put on fingerless work gloves, grabbed hold of the hammer and kept going. and i'll keep going.
100+ days ago
I just realized tonight that my last blog entry was roughly 100+ days ago. The beginning of April. Here we are, mid July. Strangely, this reflects almost the exact days that the Rwandan genocide took place back in 1994. I've been trying and trying to get back to this art piece, this experience and exploration, but many full life events have taken precedence: end of school year activities for our kids, jury duty, finishing my first semester of graduate school, working, playing and hearing music with friends, the day to day family details of a rich life. And, oh yeah, summer break.
During that time, i did manage to conduct a timing test with nails and wood. And i'm discovering that -- for such a simple idea -- this is a mountainous endeavor.
A few weeks ago, our 7 year old son was in the back seat of the car, banging his black converse sneaker against his forehead on the way to the beach, calling himself stupid and dumb. Why? He had ruined an orange t-shirt by cutting out a design that he had in mind. The cuts were too jagged, too big, not what he had envisioned and he was so mad at himself and thus, heading down that dark path for a moment:
"I don't know how to do anything."
"I suck."
"I'm stupid."
"I should be able to do this."
"Nothing I ever do is right."
Of course, as a parent, this is scary. No one wants to hear their child beat themselves up figuratively or literally. Oh, he ate a meatball sandwich 20 minutes later and was a completely different child, but this isn't an examination on the effects of low blood sugar.
The next day, I took him out to the side of our house, to the wood/nail sample that i had worked on in june. Here were the facts:
THE GOAL:
To pound 2400 nails into 3 square feet of a section of wood in 3 hours.
The RESULT:
1800 nails into 3 sq feet of wood in 10.5 hours over 4 broken up mornings. And, the wood split into 3 fractured pieces.
I showed him how the wood weakens when i get too many nails in a square foot. The wood simply can't hold a certain number of certain sized nails at some point. I showed him the bent, ruined nails off to the side. I showed him how, sometimes, when i would hammer a new nail into a crowded section of the wood, 5 or 6 nails on the wood would fall out. The wood was in one piece when i started and now, it's in three pieces. And do you know what thoughts would race across my mind?
"I don't know how to do anything."
"I suck."
"I'm stupid."
"I should be able to do this."
"Nothing I ever do is right."
I told him how, in moments over the past 100 days, i've said that i really can't pull this off. I'm not capable of doing it. And then, i listen to that voice, smile at it and decide to keep working alongside it. keep making mistakes. keep learning. and that, shock of shocks, it's the process, not the end result that matters. "we must be gentle with ourselves," I said. "And when we are trying to make something that's deeply important to us, we have to be especially gentle with ourselves."
Cooper looked at the nails, touched the wood, made a suggestion of using smaller nails and then added, "can i have a fudgcicle now? It's just that it's really hot today."
During that time, i did manage to conduct a timing test with nails and wood. And i'm discovering that -- for such a simple idea -- this is a mountainous endeavor.
A few weeks ago, our 7 year old son was in the back seat of the car, banging his black converse sneaker against his forehead on the way to the beach, calling himself stupid and dumb. Why? He had ruined an orange t-shirt by cutting out a design that he had in mind. The cuts were too jagged, too big, not what he had envisioned and he was so mad at himself and thus, heading down that dark path for a moment:
"I don't know how to do anything."
"I suck."
"I'm stupid."
"I should be able to do this."
"Nothing I ever do is right."
Of course, as a parent, this is scary. No one wants to hear their child beat themselves up figuratively or literally. Oh, he ate a meatball sandwich 20 minutes later and was a completely different child, but this isn't an examination on the effects of low blood sugar.
The next day, I took him out to the side of our house, to the wood/nail sample that i had worked on in june. Here were the facts:
THE GOAL:
To pound 2400 nails into 3 square feet of a section of wood in 3 hours.
The RESULT:
1800 nails into 3 sq feet of wood in 10.5 hours over 4 broken up mornings. And, the wood split into 3 fractured pieces.
I showed him how the wood weakens when i get too many nails in a square foot. The wood simply can't hold a certain number of certain sized nails at some point. I showed him the bent, ruined nails off to the side. I showed him how, sometimes, when i would hammer a new nail into a crowded section of the wood, 5 or 6 nails on the wood would fall out. The wood was in one piece when i started and now, it's in three pieces. And do you know what thoughts would race across my mind?
"I don't know how to do anything."
"I suck."
"I'm stupid."
"I should be able to do this."
"Nothing I ever do is right."
I told him how, in moments over the past 100 days, i've said that i really can't pull this off. I'm not capable of doing it. And then, i listen to that voice, smile at it and decide to keep working alongside it. keep making mistakes. keep learning. and that, shock of shocks, it's the process, not the end result that matters. "we must be gentle with ourselves," I said. "And when we are trying to make something that's deeply important to us, we have to be especially gentle with ourselves."
Cooper looked at the nails, touched the wood, made a suggestion of using smaller nails and then added, "can i have a fudgcicle now? It's just that it's really hot today."
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
The Aprils of Rwanda
Since 1994, I wonder what the Aprils of Rwanda feel like for that country. Do they come and go unnoticed? Do flags fly at half-mast there as in our country at times of loss and remembrance? Do birds cease to sing? Does a heavy cloud of memories fall upon countrywomen and men as the calendar brings up a month symbolic of past events?
It's on my mind, obviously. As is the 20th century Holocaust that occurred during the second World War. i have now looked at that chapter of human history deeper than ever before and the motivations, facts and stories of this event forever boggle the mind. Incomprehensible is the word that comes up for me, time and time again.
The Humanities course I'm finishing up this month -- "A History of Anti-Semitism in Western Culture: From Antiquities to the Shoah" -- has been taught by a charming professor, fresh with much-needed wit and great storytelling ability. In our most recent class, he said something in relation to the thousands upon thousands of Jews being led to their deaths daily, especially from 1942 until the end of the war:
"we (humans) are somewhat finite in our ability to conceive of large numbers."
and, it's so true. 6 million. 6 million? Well, I have to try to see 800,000 of something, from one vantage point. And somehow, I hope that i can see a glimpse of the individual within that gigantic number.
The class finishes up later this month and then, i'll return to the work of this art piece in may. until then...
It's on my mind, obviously. As is the 20th century Holocaust that occurred during the second World War. i have now looked at that chapter of human history deeper than ever before and the motivations, facts and stories of this event forever boggle the mind. Incomprehensible is the word that comes up for me, time and time again.
The Humanities course I'm finishing up this month -- "A History of Anti-Semitism in Western Culture: From Antiquities to the Shoah" -- has been taught by a charming professor, fresh with much-needed wit and great storytelling ability. In our most recent class, he said something in relation to the thousands upon thousands of Jews being led to their deaths daily, especially from 1942 until the end of the war:
"we (humans) are somewhat finite in our ability to conceive of large numbers."
and, it's so true. 6 million. 6 million? Well, I have to try to see 800,000 of something, from one vantage point. And somehow, I hope that i can see a glimpse of the individual within that gigantic number.
The class finishes up later this month and then, i'll return to the work of this art piece in may. until then...
Monday, March 3, 2008
The Necessity of Memorials
Really, what's the point of any memorial? Of digging up the deepest, darkest chapters of our human experience? Of forcing one to look head on at something that's much more comfortable to turn and walk away from? Why. Why?
I can only speak for myself here.
Honestly, it's not that i have some morbid curiosity for death and violence. I do, however, possess a rich appreciation for the past. For history. And for what people with beating, feeling hearts and minds have done to one another throughout time.
Chris and I biked down the west coast of Ireland 11 years ago. We always had room in our limited panniers for books on Ireland as we roamed the landscape. We were there for adventure, but also to learn about that island. One day, as we found ourselves biking on a lush green bit of flatland near the northwestern coast, we stumbled upon a sculpture that made our jaws drop. In the seeming middle of nowhere, here was this huge metal art piece: a ship. Three masts. And sails...not of iron cloth, but of clinging skeletons. Out there, on an empty oceanic edge of this emerald island sat a memorial to the Irish famine victims. The ones who fled on the "coffin ships" to America, hoping for the chance at a better life...and not always making it.
This piece of art affected us profoundly. We found more books specifically on the famine. the events leading up to it. those who suffered. those who managed to escape, with generations of sadness on their shoulders. This memorial shook me to the core. Enriched me. Surprised me with it's unexpectedness upon the lush landscape of Ireland. I will never forget it and because of it, i will always have compassion for those souls who lived, died or survived that experience.
Memorials -- whether expressed through music, poetry, sculpture, painting, films, novels, oral traditions or any other creative human form -- are a vital necessity to our very human fibers. To our connections to the past.
I could go on all night, sighting memorials that have affected me deeply and have been expressed in all the disciplines listed above, but the hour is late and there are still bills to pay. I had to stop and reflect on this a moment because, well...it's been on my mind.
i wrote this tonight while listening to Rachel Portman's soundtrack from Oprah Winfrey/Jonathan Demme's film adaptation of Toni Morrison's work "Beloved"--a trifecta of memorial expression to African Americans struggling to pick up the pieces in a post-Civil War landscape.
I can only speak for myself here.
Honestly, it's not that i have some morbid curiosity for death and violence. I do, however, possess a rich appreciation for the past. For history. And for what people with beating, feeling hearts and minds have done to one another throughout time.
Chris and I biked down the west coast of Ireland 11 years ago. We always had room in our limited panniers for books on Ireland as we roamed the landscape. We were there for adventure, but also to learn about that island. One day, as we found ourselves biking on a lush green bit of flatland near the northwestern coast, we stumbled upon a sculpture that made our jaws drop. In the seeming middle of nowhere, here was this huge metal art piece: a ship. Three masts. And sails...not of iron cloth, but of clinging skeletons. Out there, on an empty oceanic edge of this emerald island sat a memorial to the Irish famine victims. The ones who fled on the "coffin ships" to America, hoping for the chance at a better life...and not always making it.
This piece of art affected us profoundly. We found more books specifically on the famine. the events leading up to it. those who suffered. those who managed to escape, with generations of sadness on their shoulders. This memorial shook me to the core. Enriched me. Surprised me with it's unexpectedness upon the lush landscape of Ireland. I will never forget it and because of it, i will always have compassion for those souls who lived, died or survived that experience.
Memorials -- whether expressed through music, poetry, sculpture, painting, films, novels, oral traditions or any other creative human form -- are a vital necessity to our very human fibers. To our connections to the past.
I could go on all night, sighting memorials that have affected me deeply and have been expressed in all the disciplines listed above, but the hour is late and there are still bills to pay. I had to stop and reflect on this a moment because, well...it's been on my mind.
i wrote this tonight while listening to Rachel Portman's soundtrack from Oprah Winfrey/Jonathan Demme's film adaptation of Toni Morrison's work "Beloved"--a trifecta of memorial expression to African Americans struggling to pick up the pieces in a post-Civil War landscape.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
March forward
My time in the month of March will be three-fold:
1.) Quality family time (spring break approaches)
2.) School studies
3.) Bridge building with Rwandan contacts here and abroad.
I recently read a quote featured on the liner notes of a great CD called "Somewhere in the World" by the multi-faceted LA-based group "Word Of Mouth". Take a look:
"If we are to have peace on earth...our
loyalties must transcend our race, our
tribe, our class, and our nation; and this
means we must develop a world perspective.
No individual can live alone, no nation can
live alone...We must either learn to live
together as brothers and sisters or we are
going to perish together as fools."
Those are the words of Martin Luther King, Jr. I think that, for some, developing a "world perspective" is overwhelming and scary. But, for me, the only path i wish to pave here is one immersed in an open world perspective. Interconnectedness exists already. It is our job to build bridges all about us as we move through our days so as to illuminate the interconnectedness. Tiny bridges made of sticks and twine. Colossal bridges trussed with steel.
I know that i'll refer back to this quote when a needed jolt of inspiration is in order.
1.) Quality family time (spring break approaches)
2.) School studies
3.) Bridge building with Rwandan contacts here and abroad.
I recently read a quote featured on the liner notes of a great CD called "Somewhere in the World" by the multi-faceted LA-based group "Word Of Mouth". Take a look:
"If we are to have peace on earth...our
loyalties must transcend our race, our
tribe, our class, and our nation; and this
means we must develop a world perspective.
No individual can live alone, no nation can
live alone...We must either learn to live
together as brothers and sisters or we are
going to perish together as fools."
Those are the words of Martin Luther King, Jr. I think that, for some, developing a "world perspective" is overwhelming and scary. But, for me, the only path i wish to pave here is one immersed in an open world perspective. Interconnectedness exists already. It is our job to build bridges all about us as we move through our days so as to illuminate the interconnectedness. Tiny bridges made of sticks and twine. Colossal bridges trussed with steel.
I know that i'll refer back to this quote when a needed jolt of inspiration is in order.
Friday, February 22, 2008
No Money, No Nails, No Space, but Clarity
Last weekend, i was slowly, slowly sinking into a pit of overwhelm, discouragement and melancholy. this piece is so important to me. i want and need to create it. And there is no doubt that i will, in a symbolically timely fashion. But i've been spending week after week trying to attack many aspects of this work simultaneously: writing grants, shopping for nails, gathering wood, a few calls here for documentarians, a few letters there for benefactors, a few hours spent getting a list together of rwandan contacts, many hours designing and redesigning the wing on paper. And i was suddenly looking at April 6th (begin hammering) with great dread. Chris and I were considering using our savings to start bankrolling this project so that i can begin to actually build and hammer the wing together. That felt like a slippery slope of potential stress, debt and uncertainty, which our family does not need right now.
So, to quote my dear friend Bill--who used to say this when he saw me get overwhelmed with excitement and ideas--i said to myself, "cool your jets, cowgirl."
So, I stopped. And I breathed. And our family spent president's day weekend together, just being with friends, live music...with each other. And I breathed some more, wondering how I would face the week ahead. Two yoga classes helped.
I regularly turn to the written pages of others for support. I'm re-reading Miriam Greenspan's wisdom a lot right now. She's a psychotherapist and author from Boston (yet another example of how all great things come from Massachusetts women) who sees the beauty of negative emotions as valuable, spiritual teachers -- "if we can live mindfully of them." And last weekend, I clung to her words:
"Fear, grief and despair are uncomfortable and are seen as signs of personal failure...we call them 'negative' and think of them as 'bad'. I prefer to call these emotions 'dark', because i like the image of a rich, fertile, dark soil from which something unexpected can bloom."
And for me, clarity bloomed after a very dark weekend...with the support of in-depth discussions with friends Sarah, Laurie, Eleanor, Gina, Jill and Beth and, of course, Chris. She always goes without saying, but no, her support must be mentioned, and often.
I love the enthusiasm that these friends have. I was hit with a barrage of supportive ideas and questions on wednesday morning:
"Did you get your nails?"
"What kind of space do you need?"
"Talk to this person."
"No! Put this person's name in your cell phone. Call her! She's a Texan, too."
"Do you have a documentarian yet? You really need one."
"How much more wood do you need?"
"Is it really that hard to set up a non-profit?"
"Can you work downtown? I gotta guy who's got space downtown."
"No, she needs to be close to home."
"But if you've got 5,000 sq ft downtown and it's free....!"
"How about the grassy knoll behind your house?"
"Maybe...Hmmm."
"So, when do you need this? When do you start?"
"I can help you with that. I know a guy..."
"So, when are you going to Rwanda?"
"Did you get your tickets yet? Is your passport up to date?"
AGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH! These are all the questions that i approach alone during the few hours i can focus during the week. AND, I'm home w/the kids in the afternoon. AND, I'm in graduate school. AND, this is all too much.
I can do this the right way. Or the wrong way. I got clarity on how to make this wing the right way and not compromise my need for symbolic timing. I have to raise the money first, and then make the art. I have to go to Rwanda first, and then make the art. Many potential grant organizations want and need to know if i have an ultimate sight for this wing to rest before they will consider any funding. My friends Chris and Laurie both said this right away: "why don't you just go?" "How can you not go?" "you have to, otherwise, you're doing this thing in a vacuum." "Build that connection, that bridge, first. Then make the piece." I think that, if i can secure my location with an organization there in Rwanda, that will open up wider avenues for benefactors and funding. So, here's my new schedule of clarity...
Late Spring, Early Summer 2008 -- fund and arrange a 10-day trip to rwanda
Late Spring - Early Fall 2008 -- make the wing panels
October 2008 -- display wing (w/out nails) as the structure for
the Day of the Dead altars at Edison Elementary.
January - March 2009 -- Hammer 800,000 nails for 100 days
April - June 2009 -- Disperse nailed panels throughout LA County
for many types of groups and people to tie
red threads throughout this 15-yr mark of the
exact days when the genocide was occurring.
July 2009 -- Collect all panels, deliver them and assemble
the wing in Rwanda at the time that reflects the END
(not the beginning) of the genocide.
This way, I can give the wing it's needed "loving attention" so that it is spectacular, not just interesting. I can also not sacrifice the much needed "loving attention" that our family needs at this time. And my schooling.
So, i spend the rest of this year researching the various aspects, raising funds and constructing the part of the wing that costs little to no money. And in 2009, I make, and the community makes, the art.
whew.
So, to quote my dear friend Bill--who used to say this when he saw me get overwhelmed with excitement and ideas--i said to myself, "cool your jets, cowgirl."
So, I stopped. And I breathed. And our family spent president's day weekend together, just being with friends, live music...with each other. And I breathed some more, wondering how I would face the week ahead. Two yoga classes helped.
I regularly turn to the written pages of others for support. I'm re-reading Miriam Greenspan's wisdom a lot right now. She's a psychotherapist and author from Boston (yet another example of how all great things come from Massachusetts women) who sees the beauty of negative emotions as valuable, spiritual teachers -- "if we can live mindfully of them." And last weekend, I clung to her words:
"Fear, grief and despair are uncomfortable and are seen as signs of personal failure...we call them 'negative' and think of them as 'bad'. I prefer to call these emotions 'dark', because i like the image of a rich, fertile, dark soil from which something unexpected can bloom."
And for me, clarity bloomed after a very dark weekend...with the support of in-depth discussions with friends Sarah, Laurie, Eleanor, Gina, Jill and Beth and, of course, Chris. She always goes without saying, but no, her support must be mentioned, and often.
I love the enthusiasm that these friends have. I was hit with a barrage of supportive ideas and questions on wednesday morning:
"Did you get your nails?"
"What kind of space do you need?"
"Talk to this person."
"No! Put this person's name in your cell phone. Call her! She's a Texan, too."
"Do you have a documentarian yet? You really need one."
"How much more wood do you need?"
"Is it really that hard to set up a non-profit?"
"Can you work downtown? I gotta guy who's got space downtown."
"No, she needs to be close to home."
"But if you've got 5,000 sq ft downtown and it's free....!"
"How about the grassy knoll behind your house?"
"Maybe...Hmmm."
"So, when do you need this? When do you start?"
"I can help you with that. I know a guy..."
"So, when are you going to Rwanda?"
"Did you get your tickets yet? Is your passport up to date?"
AGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH! These are all the questions that i approach alone during the few hours i can focus during the week. AND, I'm home w/the kids in the afternoon. AND, I'm in graduate school. AND, this is all too much.
I can do this the right way. Or the wrong way. I got clarity on how to make this wing the right way and not compromise my need for symbolic timing. I have to raise the money first, and then make the art. I have to go to Rwanda first, and then make the art. Many potential grant organizations want and need to know if i have an ultimate sight for this wing to rest before they will consider any funding. My friends Chris and Laurie both said this right away: "why don't you just go?" "How can you not go?" "you have to, otherwise, you're doing this thing in a vacuum." "Build that connection, that bridge, first. Then make the piece." I think that, if i can secure my location with an organization there in Rwanda, that will open up wider avenues for benefactors and funding. So, here's my new schedule of clarity...
Late Spring, Early Summer 2008 -- fund and arrange a 10-day trip to rwanda
Late Spring - Early Fall 2008 -- make the wing panels
October 2008 -- display wing (w/out nails) as the structure for
the Day of the Dead altars at Edison Elementary.
January - March 2009 -- Hammer 800,000 nails for 100 days
April - June 2009 -- Disperse nailed panels throughout LA County
for many types of groups and people to tie
red threads throughout this 15-yr mark of the
exact days when the genocide was occurring.
July 2009 -- Collect all panels, deliver them and assemble
the wing in Rwanda at the time that reflects the END
(not the beginning) of the genocide.
This way, I can give the wing it's needed "loving attention" so that it is spectacular, not just interesting. I can also not sacrifice the much needed "loving attention" that our family needs at this time. And my schooling.
So, i spend the rest of this year researching the various aspects, raising funds and constructing the part of the wing that costs little to no money. And in 2009, I make, and the community makes, the art.
whew.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Gratitude
It's sunday night. the bathrooms are clean. the floors, swept. the kitchen floor, mopped. The kids are in bed. Our household is ready for the week. I figured that i should lay out my goals for the week and that may help clarify my path:
1.) Order nails at Fisher-Lumber
2.) Get possible options for space from 2 City of Santa Monica folks.
3.) Define space needs (over a 15 month peroiod) on one sheet of paper.
4.) Get in contact with anyone familiar with Rwandan natives in LA.
5.) Complete 2nd revised wing drawing.
6.) Write a new song.
That's enough. I feel like i made $ 7,000 on Saturday, when I got an estimate for the nails from a local Santa Monica hardware store that was $ 5,000-7,500 cheaper than 3 previous estimates. I want someone to sponsor (pay for) these nails.
Before i dive into the rest of February's goals, I wanted to thank a few people whom i've sat with recently, to turn over ideas:
--Stevo L. A former co-worker. We've worked our tails off together on past feature films. He and I have exerted energy over film sets that make me exhausted just remembering them. We both know the depths of hard, hard work. Long hours. Aching backs. And lots of laughs. Stevo looked at my wood pile and drawings and we brainstormed on how to connect the panels together and how to lay out the wood so as to best bring out the details of a bird's wing through wood.
--Bill S. A production designer/mentor who i worked for on many a motion picture when i first landed out here. A great guy all around. Over too many glasses of wine (and a few shots of tequila) he expressed how compelling the idea of one woman pounding in the nails is to him and how "there's nothing more important to do in this world than make art like this. what else is there?" He's an incredible folk artist himself. His own pieces are kinetic, tactile, raw, fascinating.
--Debbie M. A fine friend. She and I sat on her deck in the sun last week. We ate soup and stared at my wood/nail/thread sample. I'm about to give birth to this. She's about to give birth to twins. Our lives will change. As an architect and artist, she helped me plot out a few ideas over structure. She will be a good source for seeking out a structural engineer, when the time comes. The sheer scale of this is going to require some metal armature work, definitely...in order to stand firmly upright.
--Nery. I had another incredible sit down meeting with him. And, I told him that he was right, about the machetes. My museum friend, Chris, had given me a copy of his catalog from the "Orphans of the Rwandan Genocide" project from a few years back. The catalog features the words of many children speaking about putting their lives back together and moving forward in an uncertain, traumatized world. One of them said this:
"I think memorial houses should be built up, books written, churches in which people died should be used as memorials, weapons used to kill people should be put in those memorials. All this in order to help people never forget what they have been through and let our next generations know that."
I shared this with Nery. We talked about the importance of that. I suggested that, if machetes are going to be imbedded into the tips of the wings feathers, then, i want to bind them in something. red cloth. red thread. something.
--Others who expressed support and/or ask me about my progress. Thank you:
nancy, margie, vpdp parents, danah, debbie b, ericka, chris and the kids, nina, chris y ilda, grace, john s, jon s, jennifer, deniz, laurie l, martha r, ashly, marjorie m, lori, lynn, rosa, linda, dave and liz, celeste, marion and chris, julie, rebecca, sarah, ronnie and more. thanks so much. I move forward with your encouraging words.
1.) Order nails at Fisher-Lumber
2.) Get possible options for space from 2 City of Santa Monica folks.
3.) Define space needs (over a 15 month peroiod) on one sheet of paper.
4.) Get in contact with anyone familiar with Rwandan natives in LA.
5.) Complete 2nd revised wing drawing.
6.) Write a new song.
That's enough. I feel like i made $ 7,000 on Saturday, when I got an estimate for the nails from a local Santa Monica hardware store that was $ 5,000-7,500 cheaper than 3 previous estimates. I want someone to sponsor (pay for) these nails.
Before i dive into the rest of February's goals, I wanted to thank a few people whom i've sat with recently, to turn over ideas:
--Stevo L. A former co-worker. We've worked our tails off together on past feature films. He and I have exerted energy over film sets that make me exhausted just remembering them. We both know the depths of hard, hard work. Long hours. Aching backs. And lots of laughs. Stevo looked at my wood pile and drawings and we brainstormed on how to connect the panels together and how to lay out the wood so as to best bring out the details of a bird's wing through wood.
--Bill S. A production designer/mentor who i worked for on many a motion picture when i first landed out here. A great guy all around. Over too many glasses of wine (and a few shots of tequila) he expressed how compelling the idea of one woman pounding in the nails is to him and how "there's nothing more important to do in this world than make art like this. what else is there?" He's an incredible folk artist himself. His own pieces are kinetic, tactile, raw, fascinating.
--Debbie M. A fine friend. She and I sat on her deck in the sun last week. We ate soup and stared at my wood/nail/thread sample. I'm about to give birth to this. She's about to give birth to twins. Our lives will change. As an architect and artist, she helped me plot out a few ideas over structure. She will be a good source for seeking out a structural engineer, when the time comes. The sheer scale of this is going to require some metal armature work, definitely...in order to stand firmly upright.
--Nery. I had another incredible sit down meeting with him. And, I told him that he was right, about the machetes. My museum friend, Chris, had given me a copy of his catalog from the "Orphans of the Rwandan Genocide" project from a few years back. The catalog features the words of many children speaking about putting their lives back together and moving forward in an uncertain, traumatized world. One of them said this:
"I think memorial houses should be built up, books written, churches in which people died should be used as memorials, weapons used to kill people should be put in those memorials. All this in order to help people never forget what they have been through and let our next generations know that."
I shared this with Nery. We talked about the importance of that. I suggested that, if machetes are going to be imbedded into the tips of the wings feathers, then, i want to bind them in something. red cloth. red thread. something.
--Others who expressed support and/or ask me about my progress. Thank you:
nancy, margie, vpdp parents, danah, debbie b, ericka, chris and the kids, nina, chris y ilda, grace, john s, jon s, jennifer, deniz, laurie l, martha r, ashly, marjorie m, lori, lynn, rosa, linda, dave and liz, celeste, marion and chris, julie, rebecca, sarah, ronnie and more. thanks so much. I move forward with your encouraging words.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
2 Months and Counting...
Yes, i am 2 months away from beginning the process of nailing. We are 2 months and one year away from the 15 year mark of the Rwandan genocide. I could spend days, weeks, months talking to various individuals about the theory of this memorial. the building of it. the purpose of it. i've experienced incredible conversations with so many people regarding the why and where of making 800,000 nails come to fruition.
And now it's time for not just talk, but daily action. the getting of the nails. the space. the rest of the wood. from individual donations to grants to any corporate donation, i will need to be raising about $80,000 dollars to fulfill this vision. So far, i've raised not a dime. Here i go, walking alongside fear again for a moment. i've got many letters and applications written and mailed. we'll see what comes up.
anyway, one of the many things that drives me forward with inspiration from genuine friends is this:
Two artists who i find to have incredible talent, wisdom and heart have looked at my drawings and samples up close. We've talked about the piece in depth. and they have both said: "wow, this is going to be beautiful." Nery and Linda. And if Nery and Linda can envision this piece from my heart and my drawings, well, i know that it's worth doing...and it will be beautiful. compelling. provocative. powerful.
In one week, i need to have the nail order be fulfilled, paid for, ordered and on their way here.
And now it's time for not just talk, but daily action. the getting of the nails. the space. the rest of the wood. from individual donations to grants to any corporate donation, i will need to be raising about $80,000 dollars to fulfill this vision. So far, i've raised not a dime. Here i go, walking alongside fear again for a moment. i've got many letters and applications written and mailed. we'll see what comes up.
anyway, one of the many things that drives me forward with inspiration from genuine friends is this:
Two artists who i find to have incredible talent, wisdom and heart have looked at my drawings and samples up close. We've talked about the piece in depth. and they have both said: "wow, this is going to be beautiful." Nery and Linda. And if Nery and Linda can envision this piece from my heart and my drawings, well, i know that it's worth doing...and it will be beautiful. compelling. provocative. powerful.
In one week, i need to have the nail order be fulfilled, paid for, ordered and on their way here.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
The Wing Takes Shape
this piece of art must be approached constantly from so many angles -- regarding logistics, materials, funding, philosophy, political science, history, conditioning, space, design, support, etc. this is what i love about the process. however, the chunks of time that i carve out during the week never seem to be quite enough.
it seems that every person i know has some contribution to make in moving 800,000 nails forward. on monday, two friends well-versed in politics and fundraising reviewed my letter for nail donations. throughout the rest of the week, i found time to reshape the letter and the focus of those whom i wish to contact for the nails, which i have to get out by no later than tuesday of this coming week.
Martin Luther King day brought a beautiful development. The kids and i went down near the santa monica pier to walk around with our neighbors. the sun broke through brewing rain clouds and everyone seemed to be soaking up the afternoon break in our winter storms. even the birds. i had a long moment to lean on the pier railings and watch, very closely, the gliding wings of seagulls. how they expand open, take shape, hold and soar. i got to thinking about the wing.
that night, i studied more images of birds wings and sketched a design that i think will really work, while listening to some incredible music of politics, protest and love. it was as if the feelings in the music went into my ears, down inside me and back out through my pencil onto the birds wing sketch: reinforcing my belief that one pure expression of art can inspire another pure expression of art, of an idea. and so on.
Later in the week, I scaled it out, figured out that (30) 4 x 8 panels need to be constructed and this will be done in March. I'm going to host a "wing-raising" in the tradition of an old-fashioned barn raising. except, this will happen over 3 days, not one.
The rest of the week involved more brainstorming thoughts over fundraising, more wood collecting, conversations on structure and reading current news of rwanda. not bad, considering monday was a holiday and tues/wed, cooper was home with a fever.
i did get out to kickbox twice. this is very important conditioning now. i used to kickbox for anger, when i started two years ago. now, i box the bag for fun and power. the class forces me to spread my strength and stamina out evenly over an hour, so that i don't crash midway. i counted as best i could and figured that i hit the bag at least 1500-2000 times in an hour. i think of hitting 800 nails/hour for 10 hours a day and know that i will need to meditatively spread my strength out over each 10 hour period. i also know that...i will do it.
it seems that every person i know has some contribution to make in moving 800,000 nails forward. on monday, two friends well-versed in politics and fundraising reviewed my letter for nail donations. throughout the rest of the week, i found time to reshape the letter and the focus of those whom i wish to contact for the nails, which i have to get out by no later than tuesday of this coming week.
Martin Luther King day brought a beautiful development. The kids and i went down near the santa monica pier to walk around with our neighbors. the sun broke through brewing rain clouds and everyone seemed to be soaking up the afternoon break in our winter storms. even the birds. i had a long moment to lean on the pier railings and watch, very closely, the gliding wings of seagulls. how they expand open, take shape, hold and soar. i got to thinking about the wing.
that night, i studied more images of birds wings and sketched a design that i think will really work, while listening to some incredible music of politics, protest and love. it was as if the feelings in the music went into my ears, down inside me and back out through my pencil onto the birds wing sketch: reinforcing my belief that one pure expression of art can inspire another pure expression of art, of an idea. and so on.
Later in the week, I scaled it out, figured out that (30) 4 x 8 panels need to be constructed and this will be done in March. I'm going to host a "wing-raising" in the tradition of an old-fashioned barn raising. except, this will happen over 3 days, not one.
The rest of the week involved more brainstorming thoughts over fundraising, more wood collecting, conversations on structure and reading current news of rwanda. not bad, considering monday was a holiday and tues/wed, cooper was home with a fever.
i did get out to kickbox twice. this is very important conditioning now. i used to kickbox for anger, when i started two years ago. now, i box the bag for fun and power. the class forces me to spread my strength and stamina out evenly over an hour, so that i don't crash midway. i counted as best i could and figured that i hit the bag at least 1500-2000 times in an hour. i think of hitting 800 nails/hour for 10 hours a day and know that i will need to meditatively spread my strength out over each 10 hour period. i also know that...i will do it.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Linda and things that begin with the letter "g"
Linda Newman is a fine, good woman. she is goddess-like, gracious, gifted, gorgeous, giving, goofy and, yes, often full of genius. On Friday, Linda and I sat in our sun-drenched living room, looking at the most recent nail/wood prototype that i made earlier in the week, experimenting with different sized nails. Four kids frolicked around us in almost a surreal state of harmony, which allowed Linda and I to actually have a conversation. The sun hit the nail heads beautifully and she and i began talking about the community contribution to the wing. I had told her of one thought of people being able to paint the heads of the nails, but that didn't feel very inspired. A second idea was for me to just get the nails in the wood and then others could bring their hammers and pound the nails deeper into the wood. but that could be disastrous. men, women, children, hammers, fingers, noise. no.
And Linda, as rich of an artist as she is a deeply insightful human being, envisioned something which brought me to a new level of excitement and tears. She suggested red sewing thread. This thread could be tied to one nail and then connected to another and another and so on. An individual could spend time just tying bits of thread to single nails, leaving a length of it hanging in the breeze. Or, they could create an elaborate web of thread connecting many nails together. There would be no right or wrong way for a person to contribute to the piece. any way works. Cooper and Eleanor spent some time doing this during the weekend. Their process was silent, peaceful and intimate.
What Linda suggests, in my view, adds a vital third element to the wood and nailed wing that introduces so many needed things: color, movement, participation, fragility and impermanence. Yes, hundreds of people could spend their time tying red thread onto the nails in any way they wish and eventually, due to the elements of nature, their contribution will fade, decay and fall. And over time, new waves of people could put their thread on the nails. In binding a group of nails together, it looks as if a family is being bonded together by the thread. Or a group of students in a school. An orphanage. Or a small village. It's possible to contemplate these aspects of the loss while meditatively winding the thread around the nails with ones own hands. Of course the thread is red, representing blood. Blood that was spilled. The blood that runs through the hands of the living as they pay homage to the dead. The blood of life.
The past week felt like one of small accomplishments: a new prototype, a gathering of more wood from a kind gentleman in the West Adams district of LA, more scheduling organization, etc. And Linda's input was hugely inspiring regarding the thread.
On Saturday, we hosted a family here for dinner. Ilda and Chris came with their two children. These two provided rich insight into the cultural perspective of this art. Chris is deeply imbedded in work at the California African American Art Museum and Ilda's personal immigrant family history is so rich. It made for a genuine evening of conversation and turning over of ideas. I kept asking Chris about how the piece would be received in Rwanda next spring, and he kept shrugging his shoulders, suggesting that, it doesn't matter how it is received. "you just have to do it. And see what happens." He's going to help me be as prepared for that phase of the piece as i can be. He will be a link to Rwandans in the Los Angeles area and those whom i may be able to contact in the country itself. I just feel that he will be very helpful in that way. As it is now, he and Ilda are incredibly supportive. He left a catalog and power point presentation with me about a recent show at the museum: A photography exhibit on the orphans of Rwanda. I hope to find some uninterrupted time tomorrow to be present with this material and take it in.
Whew, what a week. I still don't have nails because i didn't ask for them. However, I just completed an artist's statement and letter tonight that i will be sending out to corporations and individuals this week to see what will unfold.
Oh, and today was the first day of my graduate studies. This semester's course: "The Roots of the Holocaust in Western Culture: Anti-Semitism from Antiquities to the Shoah." The first day's lecture was fascinating and I know this course will illuminate similarities for me between the struggles of Jews/Christians...Tutsis/Hutus. Onward...
And Linda, as rich of an artist as she is a deeply insightful human being, envisioned something which brought me to a new level of excitement and tears. She suggested red sewing thread. This thread could be tied to one nail and then connected to another and another and so on. An individual could spend time just tying bits of thread to single nails, leaving a length of it hanging in the breeze. Or, they could create an elaborate web of thread connecting many nails together. There would be no right or wrong way for a person to contribute to the piece. any way works. Cooper and Eleanor spent some time doing this during the weekend. Their process was silent, peaceful and intimate.
What Linda suggests, in my view, adds a vital third element to the wood and nailed wing that introduces so many needed things: color, movement, participation, fragility and impermanence. Yes, hundreds of people could spend their time tying red thread onto the nails in any way they wish and eventually, due to the elements of nature, their contribution will fade, decay and fall. And over time, new waves of people could put their thread on the nails. In binding a group of nails together, it looks as if a family is being bonded together by the thread. Or a group of students in a school. An orphanage. Or a small village. It's possible to contemplate these aspects of the loss while meditatively winding the thread around the nails with ones own hands. Of course the thread is red, representing blood. Blood that was spilled. The blood that runs through the hands of the living as they pay homage to the dead. The blood of life.
The past week felt like one of small accomplishments: a new prototype, a gathering of more wood from a kind gentleman in the West Adams district of LA, more scheduling organization, etc. And Linda's input was hugely inspiring regarding the thread.
On Saturday, we hosted a family here for dinner. Ilda and Chris came with their two children. These two provided rich insight into the cultural perspective of this art. Chris is deeply imbedded in work at the California African American Art Museum and Ilda's personal immigrant family history is so rich. It made for a genuine evening of conversation and turning over of ideas. I kept asking Chris about how the piece would be received in Rwanda next spring, and he kept shrugging his shoulders, suggesting that, it doesn't matter how it is received. "you just have to do it. And see what happens." He's going to help me be as prepared for that phase of the piece as i can be. He will be a link to Rwandans in the Los Angeles area and those whom i may be able to contact in the country itself. I just feel that he will be very helpful in that way. As it is now, he and Ilda are incredibly supportive. He left a catalog and power point presentation with me about a recent show at the museum: A photography exhibit on the orphans of Rwanda. I hope to find some uninterrupted time tomorrow to be present with this material and take it in.
Whew, what a week. I still don't have nails because i didn't ask for them. However, I just completed an artist's statement and letter tonight that i will be sending out to corporations and individuals this week to see what will unfold.
Oh, and today was the first day of my graduate studies. This semester's course: "The Roots of the Holocaust in Western Culture: Anti-Semitism from Antiquities to the Shoah." The first day's lecture was fascinating and I know this course will illuminate similarities for me between the struggles of Jews/Christians...Tutsis/Hutus. Onward...
Friday, January 11, 2008
The Process and a Week of small epiphanies
Bringing children into my world really brought home the importance of the everyday process of things. Before Cooper and Eleanor, very few aspects of my life were not result-oriented. It feels sad to admit this. Type this. And because of that gift of children, and all the education that's gone on while raising them, I am now in the throws of a simple project that is revealing one fantastic gift after another during the process of it's creation.
Although there were many more, I'll mention 3 examples of connection just this past week that moved this art piece forward and revealed small epiphanies of clarification for me:
1.) A walk with Ericka (good for the mind).
2.) A listening exercise with Rebecca (good for the spirit).
3.) A morning of loading wood with a stranger, Judy (good for the body).
Actually, each of these served all 3 aspects of the mind-spirit-body connection, but, I thought I'd give each one a specific nod.
First, dear friend Ericka and I talked and walked and spoke of many things. Sentences sometimes didn't quite get completed as we were so quickly on to the next thought. Chile, Rwanda, music, art, memorials of the dead, the disappeared, artists who suffer and create anyway, how to get art made and where to find a little money to help make it happen. On and on, I hardly remember where our feet stepped. But Ericka remembered a paper that a friend of hers wrote on historical memory of traumatic events and how we as individuals or as a people process this or don't, thus living in a recovering state of awareness or historical amnesia.
Well, I read the paper -- a fascinating work stuffed with detailed richness -- and it sealed the necessity of this artwork for me. The importance of 800,000 nails is so clear after reading this. Community art installations, if conceived sensitively, can help individuals feel connected to some whole. some aspect of "the whole." As I read this paper entitled "Amnesia/Countermemory" I also said to myself, "this is the type of research i want to be doing! This is the type of paper i would love to compose and write! So, graduate school will serve me well at this time.
Secondly, we hosted a parenting seminar in our home just last night for the parents of the children currently enrolled in our co-op preschool. Learning the fine skill of listening to our children was really one of the primary focuses of the night. How can we practice listening to them with complete empathy as they experience all the feelings that come up for them in these forming years? At one point, we paired off and held 3 minute listening exercises with a partner.
Rebecca, as lovely as her daughter Anya, sat across from me. For 3 minutes, she listened to me and then we switched roles for 3 more minutes. I recommend this practice highly for partners, friends, parents. I started talking about my project. About how hard it is to ask for help. How I don't wish to take advantage of anyone. Inconvenience anyone. Bother anyone. Yet, when I don't ask for help, I fall back into a vacuum of loneliness and overwhelm and eventually, falter. I worry that, if other people help, somehow, i won't thank them properly enough.
And with Rebecca's keen listening, I felt suddenly like Harry Potter in Book 5 when Luna Lovegood listens to him and helps him realize that he cannot possibly take on "The Dark Lord" alone. He needs his friends. Well, I need my friends and the help of so many if this is going to get pulled off. I cannot and will not work alone.
Actually, if i deny others the chance to formulate this art, I am denying them the opportunity to participate in an act of historical healing and spirit lifting.
Finally, I met someone wonderful today quite unexpectedly. in a moment where i had not asked for help (the lesson hadn't sunk in yet), help was given to me in more ways than one. My pals Beth and Curtis are finishing up a remodel on their house and set aside beautiful wood for me. I needed to do some physical work before settling down at the desk and so, without asking for help, I went over to load up my truck. But Curtis's mom, Judy was there with Beth. Instead of going off with Beth, she said that she'd stick around and help me load the wood into my truck. Now she's 74 and slight but, wow, what a workhorse! Not only was she an angel to do this, but as she inquired about what i was to do with the wood, i learned that she has traveled extensively around the world, especially in Africa. She's been almost everywhere there except Rwanda and Burundi.
So, as we huffed and puffed and she loaded my arms with planks, I got to talk to someone who has seen Africa with her own eyes. My goodness, how the gods and goddesses reveal themselves to me right now.
As Pilar said tonight over a much needed glass of wine with her and her husband David: "I see you as a sponge right now. It is so beautiful." And I do feel like a sponge, wanting to absorb every idea that comes up around this art.
So thank you Ericka, Helene, Rebecca, Judy, Pilar, Sharla, Margie, Jennifer, David, John S, Signe, Meghan, Chris, Karen A., Lisa, Jenn, Curtis, Beth and anyone else who asked me how this is going. This week has been a real inspiration.
In the words of Conor Oberst, "my eyes are wet with clarity."
Next week...how to find the money to pay for the nails.
Although there were many more, I'll mention 3 examples of connection just this past week that moved this art piece forward and revealed small epiphanies of clarification for me:
1.) A walk with Ericka (good for the mind).
2.) A listening exercise with Rebecca (good for the spirit).
3.) A morning of loading wood with a stranger, Judy (good for the body).
Actually, each of these served all 3 aspects of the mind-spirit-body connection, but, I thought I'd give each one a specific nod.
First, dear friend Ericka and I talked and walked and spoke of many things. Sentences sometimes didn't quite get completed as we were so quickly on to the next thought. Chile, Rwanda, music, art, memorials of the dead, the disappeared, artists who suffer and create anyway, how to get art made and where to find a little money to help make it happen. On and on, I hardly remember where our feet stepped. But Ericka remembered a paper that a friend of hers wrote on historical memory of traumatic events and how we as individuals or as a people process this or don't, thus living in a recovering state of awareness or historical amnesia.
Well, I read the paper -- a fascinating work stuffed with detailed richness -- and it sealed the necessity of this artwork for me. The importance of 800,000 nails is so clear after reading this. Community art installations, if conceived sensitively, can help individuals feel connected to some whole. some aspect of "the whole." As I read this paper entitled "Amnesia/Countermemory" I also said to myself, "this is the type of research i want to be doing! This is the type of paper i would love to compose and write! So, graduate school will serve me well at this time.
Secondly, we hosted a parenting seminar in our home just last night for the parents of the children currently enrolled in our co-op preschool. Learning the fine skill of listening to our children was really one of the primary focuses of the night. How can we practice listening to them with complete empathy as they experience all the feelings that come up for them in these forming years? At one point, we paired off and held 3 minute listening exercises with a partner.
Rebecca, as lovely as her daughter Anya, sat across from me. For 3 minutes, she listened to me and then we switched roles for 3 more minutes. I recommend this practice highly for partners, friends, parents. I started talking about my project. About how hard it is to ask for help. How I don't wish to take advantage of anyone. Inconvenience anyone. Bother anyone. Yet, when I don't ask for help, I fall back into a vacuum of loneliness and overwhelm and eventually, falter. I worry that, if other people help, somehow, i won't thank them properly enough.
And with Rebecca's keen listening, I felt suddenly like Harry Potter in Book 5 when Luna Lovegood listens to him and helps him realize that he cannot possibly take on "The Dark Lord" alone. He needs his friends. Well, I need my friends and the help of so many if this is going to get pulled off. I cannot and will not work alone.
Actually, if i deny others the chance to formulate this art, I am denying them the opportunity to participate in an act of historical healing and spirit lifting.
Finally, I met someone wonderful today quite unexpectedly. in a moment where i had not asked for help (the lesson hadn't sunk in yet), help was given to me in more ways than one. My pals Beth and Curtis are finishing up a remodel on their house and set aside beautiful wood for me. I needed to do some physical work before settling down at the desk and so, without asking for help, I went over to load up my truck. But Curtis's mom, Judy was there with Beth. Instead of going off with Beth, she said that she'd stick around and help me load the wood into my truck. Now she's 74 and slight but, wow, what a workhorse! Not only was she an angel to do this, but as she inquired about what i was to do with the wood, i learned that she has traveled extensively around the world, especially in Africa. She's been almost everywhere there except Rwanda and Burundi.
So, as we huffed and puffed and she loaded my arms with planks, I got to talk to someone who has seen Africa with her own eyes. My goodness, how the gods and goddesses reveal themselves to me right now.
As Pilar said tonight over a much needed glass of wine with her and her husband David: "I see you as a sponge right now. It is so beautiful." And I do feel like a sponge, wanting to absorb every idea that comes up around this art.
So thank you Ericka, Helene, Rebecca, Judy, Pilar, Sharla, Margie, Jennifer, David, John S, Signe, Meghan, Chris, Karen A., Lisa, Jenn, Curtis, Beth and anyone else who asked me how this is going. This week has been a real inspiration.
In the words of Conor Oberst, "my eyes are wet with clarity."
Next week...how to find the money to pay for the nails.
Monday, December 31, 2007
End of the Year...and Fear
At age 13, I wanted to have stronger arms for playing basketball. My mom had some aerobics hand weights and I decided to build a wood bench in our backyard, for weightlifting. I found some scrap wood. nails. a hammer. i started. the nails didn't make it through the thick wood. the legs were off center. crooked. when i tried to lie down on it, it wobbled pathetically. the bench was a total failure. in my frustration, i think i kicked it over and walked away.
While getting my undergraduate degree in cinema studies, i dreamed of an environmental law degree. From there, i would make environmentally-related documentaries, fusing both interests in one great effort. That never happened.
While working on feature films in a variety of art department-related roles, I wrote feature length screenplays: "The Killing Frost". "Buckshot and Joy". "West of Nature". A handful more. They sit in one plastic bin in our garage, collecting dust.
As 2007 draws to a close, I look forward to this new year and this art project. On the one hand, I am wanting to leave any fear of failure back in 2007. On the other hand, I suppose it's wise to take fear by the hand and dance with it while i move forward with this art project of 800,000 nails. We have all failed at one thing or another. That's part of being human. Of trying things out. As I get older, I see that those things once perceived as failures often were not at all.
And, I have to ask myself: what would failure look like in regards to this art piece?
I have envisioned a huge piece of art and want to take it out of my imagination, three-dimensionalize it by making it real (with my own hands and the hands of others) and share it with a community that's interested in peace...in the much needed constant exploration of the idea of tolerance...in the fight for awareness. So, I think failure for me would mean not being able to get all the wood, all the nails, the space to do this thing. Or that, as i build it, it is as weak and as lopsided and poorly constructed as that bench i tried to make alone when i was 13. Failure would be not getting this into the community to start (or continue) a discussion of ideas. Failure would be not honoring a country whose people have suffered so much.
That being said, I feel like beginning this process has been a remarkable success, in opening my eyes deeper to the political and social climate of present day Rwanda. This subject matter has bestowed to me many fascinating conversations with loved ones. I recently sat with dear friend Danah and her youngest teenage daughter. Over soup and tea and chocolate cake, we looked at the idea of art. How much art, film, literature can be created about the Holocaust of WWII? How much is too much? Is the reminder ever too much? What about other injustices in the world? why don't public schools look more deeply at those as well? Danah and Nina both had wonderful insight about such thoughts. And, just one rich conversation with friends helps me see the value in this idea of 800,000 nails.
So, I guess I'll befriend fear. And failure. Walk with them. Look at them. Converse with them. And what will be, will be.
While getting my undergraduate degree in cinema studies, i dreamed of an environmental law degree. From there, i would make environmentally-related documentaries, fusing both interests in one great effort. That never happened.
While working on feature films in a variety of art department-related roles, I wrote feature length screenplays: "The Killing Frost". "Buckshot and Joy". "West of Nature". A handful more. They sit in one plastic bin in our garage, collecting dust.
As 2007 draws to a close, I look forward to this new year and this art project. On the one hand, I am wanting to leave any fear of failure back in 2007. On the other hand, I suppose it's wise to take fear by the hand and dance with it while i move forward with this art project of 800,000 nails. We have all failed at one thing or another. That's part of being human. Of trying things out. As I get older, I see that those things once perceived as failures often were not at all.
And, I have to ask myself: what would failure look like in regards to this art piece?
I have envisioned a huge piece of art and want to take it out of my imagination, three-dimensionalize it by making it real (with my own hands and the hands of others) and share it with a community that's interested in peace...in the much needed constant exploration of the idea of tolerance...in the fight for awareness. So, I think failure for me would mean not being able to get all the wood, all the nails, the space to do this thing. Or that, as i build it, it is as weak and as lopsided and poorly constructed as that bench i tried to make alone when i was 13. Failure would be not getting this into the community to start (or continue) a discussion of ideas. Failure would be not honoring a country whose people have suffered so much.
That being said, I feel like beginning this process has been a remarkable success, in opening my eyes deeper to the political and social climate of present day Rwanda. This subject matter has bestowed to me many fascinating conversations with loved ones. I recently sat with dear friend Danah and her youngest teenage daughter. Over soup and tea and chocolate cake, we looked at the idea of art. How much art, film, literature can be created about the Holocaust of WWII? How much is too much? Is the reminder ever too much? What about other injustices in the world? why don't public schools look more deeply at those as well? Danah and Nina both had wonderful insight about such thoughts. And, just one rich conversation with friends helps me see the value in this idea of 800,000 nails.
So, I guess I'll befriend fear. And failure. Walk with them. Look at them. Converse with them. And what will be, will be.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Symbols, Scale and Support
Yesterday, I faltered. That's scary because it was one of those days where my level of confidence seemed as deep as the first layer of ice just forming on a late autumn pond. Just the tiniest pressure on it and, crack -- shattered. But, thank goodness, today is a new day. And at Edison, I was rejuvenated with energy by loving people. Deniz, Jennifer, Claudia, Jill, Ericka, Peter, Beth, Martha, etc...thank goodness i got a dose of their presence and often, encouragement. It's like gas in a tank. Jennifer gave me a copy of Philip Gourevitch's "We Wish To Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed With Our Families: Stories from Rwanda." This has been one of the next books on my list. Would that we all had 5 hours a day to all stop, get a cup of tea and just read, uninterrupted.
Last week, Nery and I discussed symbols and scale of this piece. This came after a lengthy discussion on how our government seems to be moving brilliantly toward a troublesome trend of privatization of everything: medical care, the military, prisons and ultimately, public schools. So upsetting. This country enrages me and I love it passionately, because i can sit in a coffee shop with a friend and talk freely about how enraged i am, without the threat of being arrested or worse.
I told him that, after the calculations of my first nail test, with 150 nails on a 4" x 5' board -- the piece would be over a MILE LONG...in order to accomodate 800,000 nails/spirits.
One mile long. So, the nails will be smaller and much much much more close to one another. Today, I did a test of dots on one square foot space of plywood. with the dots averaging about 1/2" spacing, I fit over 780 dots. That could work. And, the calculation now would scale out to be an art piece of about 1,000 square feet. It could be 10'h x 100' w or 20'h x 50'w. That's a bit more manageable, especially if i design them in connecting 8' sections. This would be for assembly and shipping sake.
Regarding symbols, an earlier blog described how Nery and I talked of the significance of using wood from downed trees. The creation of a wing seems to be feeling really good right now. A wing conjures imagery of flight, freedom, air, height, escape and beauty. Nery had an incredible suggestion, but one which I'm on the fence about. He imagined that the far tips of the feathers on this wing could be machetes. Ouch. Pain was my first feeling when he said that. Then sadness. Then violence. And as brilliantly rich as that idea is, I think that i have to sit on it for a while, because the piece needs to be one of recognition, overwhelm and, ultimately, hope. Or, as a wing and flight also resonates for me -- upliftedness. The mental weight of those blunt instruments may challenge that feeling.
We discussed whether to use 800,000 of the same nail type or vary the sizes so as to represent men, women and children -- people of different ages, sizes. I need to think of that visually and ask: which would be more powerful? i'll take an ongoing poll of that question.
He also suggested, as chris has also, making it a 2-sided structure, with nails on both sides of the wing. I love that idea logistically and spacially, but, there's this part of me that wants to/needs to see all 800,000 nails from one singular vantage point -- in order to really grasp the enormity of what can happen in a country in 100 days. Because, even to this day, I cannot visualize it. And I hope this piece helps people be able to visualize it in some way rather than a sentence on a page.
Another stroke of intuitive thinking on Nery's part occurred when he suggested creating the wing structure first, then nailing it. I had to think about that for a moment. And though I wish I could do it the other way (pound nails on scrap pieces first, then assemble), he's absolutely right. The structure, the shape, must be created first. It will be easier to do so, with no nails protruding from one side. Then, if it's able to be broken down in 8' sections, i can work on smaller pieces during the 100 day nailing process.
Note, if you are someone out there still reading this, I appreciate it!!! My inspirations for today:
The Lion King: Pride Rock On Broadway by Julie Taymor
--this is one of our favorite household art books. I think of it often while making entries in this blog because it's such a wonderful record of the process of Julie Taymor and her stable of amazing artists who came to create such an inspiring piece of work.
Brett & Stev-O
--two former co-workers who i shared many a film experience with. There was never anything that these 2 guys couldn't figure out how to build. And they approached things with confidence, creative urgency and curiosity. And I never saw them begin to build something that they didn't complete. They taught me so much. I have a feeling that i'll be picking up the phone to ask them for advice at some point.
Mary Oliver
--once referred to as "One of the 7 Wonders of Massachusetts", her poetry inspires me more deeply than i ever imagined.
Over and over, i read or listen to her thoughts and, i am reminded of how tiny each of us are and how infinitely huge. Thanks to Chris and Liz for introducing me to her work years ago.
Cooper & Eleanor
--i know my kids love me when they are excited about climbing up somebody's filthy demolition dumpster to find a good piece of wood for me. We now have a garage filling up with beautiful boards, saved from the landfill. When I drag them into a neat pile, I think of the corpse of a tree. The corpse of a body...and i handle them with great care. For in this art, they will live again.
Last week, Nery and I discussed symbols and scale of this piece. This came after a lengthy discussion on how our government seems to be moving brilliantly toward a troublesome trend of privatization of everything: medical care, the military, prisons and ultimately, public schools. So upsetting. This country enrages me and I love it passionately, because i can sit in a coffee shop with a friend and talk freely about how enraged i am, without the threat of being arrested or worse.
I told him that, after the calculations of my first nail test, with 150 nails on a 4" x 5' board -- the piece would be over a MILE LONG...in order to accomodate 800,000 nails/spirits.
One mile long. So, the nails will be smaller and much much much more close to one another. Today, I did a test of dots on one square foot space of plywood. with the dots averaging about 1/2" spacing, I fit over 780 dots. That could work. And, the calculation now would scale out to be an art piece of about 1,000 square feet. It could be 10'h x 100' w or 20'h x 50'w. That's a bit more manageable, especially if i design them in connecting 8' sections. This would be for assembly and shipping sake.
Regarding symbols, an earlier blog described how Nery and I talked of the significance of using wood from downed trees. The creation of a wing seems to be feeling really good right now. A wing conjures imagery of flight, freedom, air, height, escape and beauty. Nery had an incredible suggestion, but one which I'm on the fence about. He imagined that the far tips of the feathers on this wing could be machetes. Ouch. Pain was my first feeling when he said that. Then sadness. Then violence. And as brilliantly rich as that idea is, I think that i have to sit on it for a while, because the piece needs to be one of recognition, overwhelm and, ultimately, hope. Or, as a wing and flight also resonates for me -- upliftedness. The mental weight of those blunt instruments may challenge that feeling.
We discussed whether to use 800,000 of the same nail type or vary the sizes so as to represent men, women and children -- people of different ages, sizes. I need to think of that visually and ask: which would be more powerful? i'll take an ongoing poll of that question.
He also suggested, as chris has also, making it a 2-sided structure, with nails on both sides of the wing. I love that idea logistically and spacially, but, there's this part of me that wants to/needs to see all 800,000 nails from one singular vantage point -- in order to really grasp the enormity of what can happen in a country in 100 days. Because, even to this day, I cannot visualize it. And I hope this piece helps people be able to visualize it in some way rather than a sentence on a page.
Another stroke of intuitive thinking on Nery's part occurred when he suggested creating the wing structure first, then nailing it. I had to think about that for a moment. And though I wish I could do it the other way (pound nails on scrap pieces first, then assemble), he's absolutely right. The structure, the shape, must be created first. It will be easier to do so, with no nails protruding from one side. Then, if it's able to be broken down in 8' sections, i can work on smaller pieces during the 100 day nailing process.
Note, if you are someone out there still reading this, I appreciate it!!! My inspirations for today:
The Lion King: Pride Rock On Broadway by Julie Taymor
--this is one of our favorite household art books. I think of it often while making entries in this blog because it's such a wonderful record of the process of Julie Taymor and her stable of amazing artists who came to create such an inspiring piece of work.
Brett & Stev-O
--two former co-workers who i shared many a film experience with. There was never anything that these 2 guys couldn't figure out how to build. And they approached things with confidence, creative urgency and curiosity. And I never saw them begin to build something that they didn't complete. They taught me so much. I have a feeling that i'll be picking up the phone to ask them for advice at some point.
Mary Oliver
--once referred to as "One of the 7 Wonders of Massachusetts", her poetry inspires me more deeply than i ever imagined.
Over and over, i read or listen to her thoughts and, i am reminded of how tiny each of us are and how infinitely huge. Thanks to Chris and Liz for introducing me to her work years ago.
Cooper & Eleanor
--i know my kids love me when they are excited about climbing up somebody's filthy demolition dumpster to find a good piece of wood for me. We now have a garage filling up with beautiful boards, saved from the landfill. When I drag them into a neat pile, I think of the corpse of a tree. The corpse of a body...and i handle them with great care. For in this art, they will live again.
Friday, November 30, 2007
"Cut The Tall Trees"
Having purposefully avoided Terry George's film "Hotel Rwanda" upon its original theatrical release a few years back, I finally rented it this week. The time had come for me to experience it and face a filmmaker's vision of some of the events of 1994. But, after a scene in which a red cross worker comes back to the hotel from an orphanage in tears because all the Tutsi children had be dragged away before she could get to them...i turned it off. Then of course, there was the pain of watching a loving couple, where the man was Hutu and the wife, Tutsi, look into one another's faces with absolute raw fear of being ripped from one anothers arms. An orphanage cleansed. People dragged out of their front doors...I could not bear it. I have to complete the viewing of that at some point. It's important. Chris has to watch it with me. I can't do it alone.
in one of my earlier blogs, i wrongfully described the film business as a place of "individually-focused" needs. My statement didn't feel accurate, although i have witnessed a host of ego-centric personalities on many a big-budgeted, badly-written studio film. Yes, that exists, but quality filmmaking (like Hotel Rwanda) is the kind of work that I originally developed a deep passion and love for. the art of telling rich stories through moving pictures.
In the film, some of the Hutu-controlled radio broadcasts can be overheard. I've read often of the Tutsis being referred to as "cockroaches". But there were also commands being issued saying "we must cut the tall trees. Cut the tall trees!!" One of the few physical differences between a hutu human and a tutsi human is simply that, the tutsi is a little bit taller.
Earlier in the week, I sat with Edison parent/friend/artist Nery again. Another quality conversation spanning many topics. Over coffee, we spoke of the significance of using wood. the symbol of the tree. Trees represent life. They give life to we humans--clean our air, absorb our pollutants, shade us, shelter us. So, using recycled lumber in the sculpture is a way for some aspect of some trees to live on and breathe life into spirits no longer here.
Eleanor P is a designer/decorator/pal who is the epitome of aesthetics. She had suggested using cut up tree rings to enhance the visual design, instead of just scrap boards of lumber. I tucked that idea in my mental back pocket. And a few days ago, friend deniz emailed me to say that she has a beautiful, large ash tree at their home. it's roots are extremely invasive. she wondered if they eventually had to cut it down, could i use the wood for part of the piece? herein lies an example of 3 more people adding to the concept and meaning of the sculpture.
I've enjoyed sharing this blog with many familiar faces. However, there are some dominant spanish speaking acquaintances at edison who i have yet to share this with, due to my 2nd language inadequacies. I'd like to find a high school or college student who could get some sort of extra credit for translating this blog into spanish.
I feel like i'm presently living my days in a way that genuinely serves my body, mind and spirit quite harmoniously. in the past, some aspect of that triangle has always been out of whack. Too much of one thing, not enough of the other. Absolute deprivation of another. This project is really expanding and challenging my MIND. My family, friends, yoga and reading on meditation and mindfulness richly serve my SPIRIT. And kickboxing strengthens the BODY. It will keep my arms strong for hammering. And last night, we had to do a long series of high, straight kicks on the big bag. So fun. I noticed that when i trained my mind on something, my kicks were 3 times as powerful. I'd kick a machete out of the hand of hatred. Then kick a machete out of the hand of intolerance. Kick a machete out of the hand of discrimination. Kick a machete out of the hand of a shriveled, blackened heart devoid of its last ounce of love. Kick, kick, kick. It was a really satisfying class. Fallen machetes everywhere.
in one of my earlier blogs, i wrongfully described the film business as a place of "individually-focused" needs. My statement didn't feel accurate, although i have witnessed a host of ego-centric personalities on many a big-budgeted, badly-written studio film. Yes, that exists, but quality filmmaking (like Hotel Rwanda) is the kind of work that I originally developed a deep passion and love for. the art of telling rich stories through moving pictures.
In the film, some of the Hutu-controlled radio broadcasts can be overheard. I've read often of the Tutsis being referred to as "cockroaches". But there were also commands being issued saying "we must cut the tall trees. Cut the tall trees!!" One of the few physical differences between a hutu human and a tutsi human is simply that, the tutsi is a little bit taller.
Earlier in the week, I sat with Edison parent/friend/artist Nery again. Another quality conversation spanning many topics. Over coffee, we spoke of the significance of using wood. the symbol of the tree. Trees represent life. They give life to we humans--clean our air, absorb our pollutants, shade us, shelter us. So, using recycled lumber in the sculpture is a way for some aspect of some trees to live on and breathe life into spirits no longer here.
Eleanor P is a designer/decorator/pal who is the epitome of aesthetics. She had suggested using cut up tree rings to enhance the visual design, instead of just scrap boards of lumber. I tucked that idea in my mental back pocket. And a few days ago, friend deniz emailed me to say that she has a beautiful, large ash tree at their home. it's roots are extremely invasive. she wondered if they eventually had to cut it down, could i use the wood for part of the piece? herein lies an example of 3 more people adding to the concept and meaning of the sculpture.
I've enjoyed sharing this blog with many familiar faces. However, there are some dominant spanish speaking acquaintances at edison who i have yet to share this with, due to my 2nd language inadequacies. I'd like to find a high school or college student who could get some sort of extra credit for translating this blog into spanish.
I feel like i'm presently living my days in a way that genuinely serves my body, mind and spirit quite harmoniously. in the past, some aspect of that triangle has always been out of whack. Too much of one thing, not enough of the other. Absolute deprivation of another. This project is really expanding and challenging my MIND. My family, friends, yoga and reading on meditation and mindfulness richly serve my SPIRIT. And kickboxing strengthens the BODY. It will keep my arms strong for hammering. And last night, we had to do a long series of high, straight kicks on the big bag. So fun. I noticed that when i trained my mind on something, my kicks were 3 times as powerful. I'd kick a machete out of the hand of hatred. Then kick a machete out of the hand of intolerance. Kick a machete out of the hand of discrimination. Kick a machete out of the hand of a shriveled, blackened heart devoid of its last ounce of love. Kick, kick, kick. It was a really satisfying class. Fallen machetes everywhere.
Monday, November 26, 2007
"Only Connect"
One of my favorite novels of all time is E.M. Forster's classic Howard's End. On the first page of the book, a phrase is written just under the title. It reads "only connect." This art project is sure to be a work of the collective, not the work of one person. i've found an unused journal in my piles of things that i'm going to start using tonight. in it, i will list the names of every person who has come forth to comment on this idea, support me on this idea, question me on this idea, etc. so many people have given their time and thoughts to the blog and the concept and the feedback has been like an elixir of strength for me.
pilar, karen h, kayren, donna, rosa, sarah, lori, julie, peter, john s, steffi, deniz, erin, rebecca, noah, amanda, danah, lisa, jenn, catherine, jenny...and that's just from the last few days. and, i fear listing everyone here who inspires me, for i do not wish to ever leave one person out by some bit of oversight. so, i begin the thorough book of grateful names. for those names, those individuals, are as much contributors to this art and thought process as i am.
Samantha Power's book is now basically one giant dog-eared text in my hands (and it's a library copy, oops). I am amazed at how many stirring facts and ideas pop off page after page of this massive body of work. Raphael Lemkin, a man of many titles who is credited with actually creating and defining the word "genocide", recognized the creative losses that all of humanity feels when a certain group is eliminated (or attempted to be eliminated) from the planet. how vital creativity is in our existence. in music, poetry, design, science, everyday life, etc. as chris here at home said the other night: "art touches the divine in all of us. it's so necessary."
Danah gave me a copy of Carl Rogers' On Becoming A Person. I turned to a section on the process and necessity for creativity to be nurtured in a society--or else, all of society suffers. His words resonated similarly to those of Lemkin. Again, another example of connection surfaced.
800,000 nails is a work of connection. Of the collective. It seems to already exist and yet, not one nail has been banged.
pilar, karen h, kayren, donna, rosa, sarah, lori, julie, peter, john s, steffi, deniz, erin, rebecca, noah, amanda, danah, lisa, jenn, catherine, jenny...and that's just from the last few days. and, i fear listing everyone here who inspires me, for i do not wish to ever leave one person out by some bit of oversight. so, i begin the thorough book of grateful names. for those names, those individuals, are as much contributors to this art and thought process as i am.
Samantha Power's book is now basically one giant dog-eared text in my hands (and it's a library copy, oops). I am amazed at how many stirring facts and ideas pop off page after page of this massive body of work. Raphael Lemkin, a man of many titles who is credited with actually creating and defining the word "genocide", recognized the creative losses that all of humanity feels when a certain group is eliminated (or attempted to be eliminated) from the planet. how vital creativity is in our existence. in music, poetry, design, science, everyday life, etc. as chris here at home said the other night: "art touches the divine in all of us. it's so necessary."
Danah gave me a copy of Carl Rogers' On Becoming A Person. I turned to a section on the process and necessity for creativity to be nurtured in a society--or else, all of society suffers. His words resonated similarly to those of Lemkin. Again, another example of connection surfaced.
800,000 nails is a work of connection. Of the collective. It seems to already exist and yet, not one nail has been banged.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
berkeley brainstorming
back from spending a magical thanksgiving holiday in berkeley with Canadian friends, mike and maureen and their children. we caught up, explored ideas and exchanged stories while walking among redwoods, sycamores, eucalyptus and california oaks. good wine flowed while we talked of my art project, among many other topics. spending time with them was restorative. mike is the kindest of men: intelligent and sensitive to the core. and maureen's company is almost zen-like. she is a true gentlewoman whose loving nature towards her family and the day is nurturing. contagious.
mike, a professor at the school of public health at Cal, said that one of the interesting facets of the human genome project and the breaking down our dna so miraculously is that they've found that, of all the different global races, cultural facets, skin colors, eye shape, belief systems that set us apart from one another, the actual physical difference in us all is about 1.2 %.
mike, a professor at the school of public health at Cal, said that one of the interesting facets of the human genome project and the breaking down our dna so miraculously is that they've found that, of all the different global races, cultural facets, skin colors, eye shape, belief systems that set us apart from one another, the actual physical difference in us all is about 1.2 %.
we also discussed whether it is wise for me to pound the 800,000 nails by myself, before bringing the assembled piece into the public, for further artistic contribution. i forgot to tell them how much i love challenges of endurance.
next week, nail test #2 will happen, as well as an interview with the dean of humanities at mt. st. mary's college. another meeting with nery and the hunt for a donated work space.
before our trip up north, i received a plethora of supportive emails for this project, with the exception of one. a relative wrote me expressing concern for my interest in this area. "why rwanda?" "why not focus on your own backyard?" "why not focus on the living?" "it's disturbing (why i see my own responsibility in an event such as this)." to all these and more contemplative questions, i say, raise them. feel free to play devil's advocate with me. all questions are good and i will work to be as sensitive to all aspects while, as my friend Jenn said just tonight, raising awareness...which is really the goal here. more than anything...raise awareness and inspire connectedness. that's really it. i hope that so much more comes out of it.
one morning in berkeley, our daughter eleanor and i walked outside enroute to grocery shopping on shattuck street. in front of mike and maureen's house, a moment of stillness was broken by a swift autumn gust of wind. crisp and refreshing. we stared up at a sycamore tree and watched the last of its leaves clinging on and then letting go, twisting, flipping, dancing a final beautiful dance before falling to the ground to their ultimate end--or new journey to become part of the earth again. we tried to catch a leaf here and there. so big. i thanked my mom for giving me keen powers of observation. that's one thing i wish to give cooper and eleanor--strong powers of observation...non-judgmental observation.
Monday, November 19, 2007
cranes and nails
keep thinking of the cranes for peace project that edison parent, margie, brought to our children's school. the powerful nature of it. she had somehow found a list of names of iraqi civilians who had perished in the iraq war that continues to this very day. i remember volunteers attaching a name onto each crane. what a simple way to raise awareness. to honor those whom we do not know and whose lives we cannot imagine from our life experience.
samantha power opens her book with a quote from Abraham Lincoln:
"we --even we here--hold the power, and bear the responsibility."
tonight, margie's efforts and lincoln's words fuel me.
i got to thinking, as i sent this blog out to folks for the first time tonight: "what if someone else sees this? some stranger? and they get the idea to make an art piece like this before me?" yes, that's the ego talking. and then, a wonderful idea came forth. what if another art piece of 800,000 nails were made to honor rwanda? what if 10 more were made? 50 more? one for each state. one for each continent. right on.
i say that there cannot be enough art made to teach us the lessons of global citizenship and awareness and if 10,000 people took this idea, more power to us all, for i live with the cockiness that i had at age 15, when i learned and really read about the holocaust of WWII for the first time. what a rude awakening. i was cocky because i had said to myself, "if i had been alive back then, i would have been vocal. a fighter. i would NEVER have let this happen on my watch. there's no way. how did caring people let this happen? and yet, in 1994, i did. we all did. i have to teach my children something.
i remember looking for the aisle of nails at lincoln hardware. i saw the sign that read "nails". me and my will shortz-loving brain noticed that the letters that make up "nails" also make up the word "slain."
samantha power opens her book with a quote from Abraham Lincoln:
"we --even we here--hold the power, and bear the responsibility."
tonight, margie's efforts and lincoln's words fuel me.
i got to thinking, as i sent this blog out to folks for the first time tonight: "what if someone else sees this? some stranger? and they get the idea to make an art piece like this before me?" yes, that's the ego talking. and then, a wonderful idea came forth. what if another art piece of 800,000 nails were made to honor rwanda? what if 10 more were made? 50 more? one for each state. one for each continent. right on.
i say that there cannot be enough art made to teach us the lessons of global citizenship and awareness and if 10,000 people took this idea, more power to us all, for i live with the cockiness that i had at age 15, when i learned and really read about the holocaust of WWII for the first time. what a rude awakening. i was cocky because i had said to myself, "if i had been alive back then, i would have been vocal. a fighter. i would NEVER have let this happen on my watch. there's no way. how did caring people let this happen? and yet, in 1994, i did. we all did. i have to teach my children something.
i remember looking for the aisle of nails at lincoln hardware. i saw the sign that read "nails". me and my will shortz-loving brain noticed that the letters that make up "nails" also make up the word "slain."
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