Somewhere Between Here and There - Letter to a Home Town

It has been a long time since I traveled alone with just a toddler in tow. She frets and plays on the long ride, but mostly she sleeps the trip away. For me, the sole driver, life is suspended for the passage of miles. I imagine myself caught in an elevator between floors. The only real difference is that I have some control over what music plays. My monkey mind dances to the tune.

The car is packed to the roof with North Country fare. There are enough fresh picked blueberries to both eat and freeze. The syrup alone makes up for a passenger. But mostly the seats of absent passengers are filled with things from my grandparent’s house. There has to be a metaphor in that somewhere.             

It has been eight months since Grandpa died. The arduous task of sifting, sorting, distributing is beginning to wind down. I claim no credit here. The burdens and privileges were for a generation before mine. Now the estate sale is just a few weeks away. My Grandparents left no shortage of interesting and useful things.

Price tags on memories. The possessions are in a state of flux: personal belongings are transforming into assets of the estate. It is all just stuff now; stuff that they left behind. Now that the immediate family has taken choice, strangers will be able to pay dollars for leftover things. Dollars will wash the memory trail clean. In another house they will begin a new life with new meaning.

My traveling companion will have no memory of her Great Grandparents. I shift the rearview mirror to glimpse at her sleeping face. Right now the blueberries have more meaning in her world. They are her new favorite fruit. The family bible, the tiny china dolls, the smocked pillow mean nothing yet. They are stepping stones I have collected for traveling into the world that came before her. One day she will use them to prompt us, and we will share our memories. Lessons of heritage come through heirlooms.

My dad handed me the box marked “Grandpa Yandeau’s Candy Jar” with instructions. It needs to be filled with hard candy, specifically butterscotch flavor (with the possible exception of Horehound). He recalled how Grandpa Yandeau would use a hammer to break hard candy, then share the pieces small enough that he couldn’t choke on them. Grandpa Yandeau was my Grandma’s father. He was short, a veteran, worked on the railroad and they lived in Rochester. I have no memories of him of my own.

The lights and city traffic pull my monkey mind into the present. Highway driving is better suited for deep thought. The elevator, once stuck, lurches into motion. In two word sentence structure my traveling companion requests “music off”. I pull up in front of our apartment in a car load of North Country fare and memories. I am happy to see my companion by the door waiting to help me unload.  

I hope that this letter has found you and yours in good spirits and good health. Until I write again…

What is art good for?

I recently had the honor of being on a panel of Arts Educators for an event sponsored by  Free Arts NYC, an arts program that I have been involved with for several years. The theme of the evening was “What is Art Good For?” In preparation I asked a number of friends if they felt that art is necessary for a society to function, and what would a world without art be like...  Below is a sampling of the responses I got. Creative people rock!
P.S. I would love to hear more responses! Feel free to comment - How does art change the way you see the world?

Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time. ~Thomas Merton

If I go too long without making something, whether artistic, as in letterpress, or just graphic like photos or even a PowerPoint, or physical, like refinishing a chair or dresser, I get a little weird and need to have an expressive outlet.

….We're hard-wired for creative expression and art makes us feel good.

A life without art is like a world with no color.Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life. ~Pablo Picasso

Art helps us express the entire spectrum of the human experience.  It also allows us to transcend, and thereby transform, the very same.

Art can also validate a person in some ways, whether she/he creates it as a form of expression of themselves, or whether they purchase and display it, to demonstrate their appreciation for it, or even to let it arouse inspiration or be therapeutic.

...It opens doors. If we take away art it does more than close doors in their faces...it removes the possibility of a doorway at all.

Dreams are art, what are dreams good for?

Art began in the caves with hand prints and charcoal drawings...as a species we've been making art for hundreds of thousands of years...so it must be good for something! Any Neanderthal knows that.

Before there was civilization as we define it, cave dwellers decorated their walls. We call these drawings art. Who knows what the artists called it? Maybe merely a diary of their days.

Consider the greater pleasure and aesthetic appeal of a tidy row of corn versus a "scattered seed" planting method. Art encompasses order. There is beauty in that, yes?

Ellen Dissanayake … talks about the concept of "making special", and this is something that (mostly) only human have always done, and it is the source of art in society.

Without art the Earth is just Eh.

Ellen Dissanayake has a book called "What is art for"… After scads of research and thoughtful examination of data she ends the book with a line that shoots through your body like lightning... to paraphrase from rusty neurons: ...in societies where the value of art is not primary, there is violence.

Refer to Article 1, section 8 of the U.S. Constitution, where it states that one of Congress's responsibilities is to "promote the Progress of Science and useful Arts". If our founding fathers felt it was necessary, it should be good enough for all Americans.

...."does life copy art or does art copy life".....of course the suave, but still dodgy answer is BOTH, but if life does copy art, then we need art for that model-- though art isn't just a projection, but a reflection, and a fantasy, and a realization, and a communication.

In a world that has standard measurements for all accomplishments there should always be a place for a student to think outside the box.

Art is typically a "safe space" for society to address it's ills… satire and spectacle.

I think art is necessary for society to function because ART IS ACTIVISM and as such, art helps to advance our culture and societal interests by introducing us to new ideas and ways of understanding.

Art, essentially is the lubrication that allows personal wants and interpersonal differences/needs/norms to slide/ride/rub together without harm.

Art is necessary as food for the soul as air is for the body, for the expression of our perception of the world is versed aesthetically through it!

If all else fails let’s not forget that it is just plain fun.

A Moderately Sized Brontosaurus

 

On our latest excursion we made a point to seek out unusual landmarks and destinations. We came across this dinosaur in Bayville, NJ by accident. Roadside America (http://www.roadsideamerica.com/) describes it as a "moderately sized brontosaurus" and notes that he has been living along side Route 9 since 1932!

Letters to a Home Town "Assembly of a Dream"

I won't be posting all of my "Letters" here, but you can count on a steady trickle of my favorites, both old and new. This one was from about a month ago....

I am not sure how it really happens, but in the myth that I have created there is a little workshop in the recesses of my brain. There is a Dream Maker who works there. She goes out each night and picks up scattered bits of thoughts and memories to use as supplies. Sometimes she gathers unfinished sentences and sights that were in the periphery – things I saw but didn’t notice. Some materials are plucked from the pile of things I thought but didn’t say. When the dreams play, often there are things of obvious source. Others I have no idea where she found them. Sadly, no matter how well crafted, chances are I won’t remember a dream when I wake. To the Dream Maker this does not matter. She gathers, assembles and creates because the act of creating makes her feel whole.

In the drifty space just before waking I know there was a dream playing. I could feel myself straining to hold on to it, catching bits like a conversation overheard from another room. The cat must have noticed my lids flickering because she began to knead. I feel like I am in the impulse isle of the store, the one you have to go down to in order to get to the register where they put all of those things that you didn’t know you needed but now you suddenly do. I grab randomly, tossing things into the cart of conscious thought just before opening my eyes.

Dear Cat, I find it rather gross the way you drool on me when you purr. I also find it endearing. I am conflicted. Also, please stop tenderizing me.  

The dream was gone but somehow I grabbed onto some of the bits the Dream Maker used to assemble it. The common theme - letters. I know this for sure because my first waking thoughts came phrased like short letters. I decided to follow this through; to encourage some morning pondering in short letter form.

Dear Coffee Pot, Please brew faster. If you could also ask the dishes to wash themselves I would be forever grateful.

Dear Almond Butter, I still can’t get past your consistency. It is too much like peanut butter which I am allergic to. I am sorry. I am putting cream cheese on my English muffin. 

Dear Sleeping Child, I am changing your middle name to “Zilla” until you are three. When you have children of your own you will understand.

Dear Politicians Seeking (Re)Election, I am pretty sure that Dr. Seuss wrote If I Ran the Circus after listening to politician on the stump. This is not a complement.  

Dear Every Place I Have Ever Lived, The number and composition of your population does not determine your values. Your populace does.  

Dear Dream Maker, Thank you for participating in my personal myth, cleaning up my brain scraps and putting them to use.

Dear Letter Home Reader, I hope that this letter has found you and yours in good spirits and good health. Until I write again…

Welcome to Art Mama Says

People have been telling me for some time that I should be blogging. I write a weekly column for my home town newspaper, so in a way I have been for years - I've just been doing it 'old school'. Anyway, yesterday I added another candle to my cake, and with that I decided that this year is as good of a time as any to get going on a blog. The plan is to let it be a forum to share creative things I have been making and doing (the Art part), recipes, kid pics, green home tips and such (the Mama part) and a few of my "Letters to a Home Town" and other random writings (the Says part). As those of you who get my "Letters" already know, I welcome feedback, comments and constructive criticism, but please, no other types of criticism. That stuff can be nasty and damaging and I am trying to strike it from my life.

 

Pic: Detail of "Before I Die..." Interactive Installation taken in Brooklyn, NY 2011