When Women Were Birds

Variations on Voice:
A seven piece suite.  Each piece measures 8 x 10 unframed |  14 x 16 framed
pastel, colored pencil, Irish linen thread on paper
This series explores areas where women regain their power through their voice.  The background of each piece is inscribed with a word or phrase that represents an area where women often lose themselves.  The figure is covered with opposing text that, when embodied, is the source of power through voice or choice.   The words are written or printed with graphite and inscribed into the paper.

Below is a listing of the words inscribed on the background paired with the words written into the figure with graphite:

Let’s – Promise
I love you I love myself – LOVE
No – Boundaries
Grateful – Gratitude
I am enough exactly as I am right now – Acceptance
Yes – Risk
I forgive you I forgive myself – Compassion

WHEN WOMEN WERE BIRDS SERIES
A nod to the book by Terry Tempest Williams.

I first read the book in 2017 and it has haunted me since. Essentially, Terry is working through the life lessons instilled by her mother as well as those from her own experiences. It is a powerful read, and has left me thinking about myself, my experiences, and how they relate to my Mother’s. I long to have those conversations with her and can do that through art making. My Mother has been a strong influence in my life despite her passing decades ago.
My Mother had a bird. I inherited my love for birds from my mother. I am surrounded by birds on our urban farm. Our chickens and gardens invite feathered friends to partake in their bounty. Pigeons, doves, parrots, hummingbirds, and wrens are regular visitors while a few ducks make our home a stop in their migration. I do not take these meetings for granted and glean lessons and meaning from these encounters. Birds teach me to soar, to nest, to tend, and to be patient. For me, their symbolism and lessons are varied, often deeply personal.

The Crone:
Represents patience and wisdom
11 x 14.5 unframed |16 x 20 framed
Pastel, colored pencil, graphite and Irish linen thread on paper
$350

Joy
Is about the importance of relationships and connection
11 x 14.5 unframed |16 x 20 framed
Pastel, colored pencil, graphite and Irish linen thread on paper
$350

Wisdom
Is about unraveling and letting of go
11 x 14.5 unframed |16 x 20 framed
Pastel, colored pencil, graphite and Irish linen thread on paper
$350

SHE REMEMBERED
11 x 14.5 unframed |16 x 20 framed

This poem was written after the reversal of Roe v Wade and reading about the varied responses of women. Stunned by some women’s complacency about the overturning, I found myself depressed. This coincided with my recent marriage. Even though we have been together for a few years, once married, it felt different. There is a dance in retaining independence while becoming an US. The poem I wrote emerged from the convergence of these two events.

In the background, I inscribed the words, ‘We must not forget we must always remember’. In the figure, I wrote with graphite this poem:

She forgot.
She forgot the power of her voice.
She forgot the power of her mind.
She forgot the power of her imagination.
She forgot the power of her choice.

Silently wrapped in the Chrysalis of Time
She wept the tears of one thousand hearts.
Patiently she waited for herself to remember.

To remember the power of her voice.
To remember the power of her mind.
To remember the power of her imagination.
To remember the power of her choice.
To Remember herself.

Letting Go
A six piece suite
each piece measures 5 x 7 unframed | 11 x 14 framed

A symbol for nourishment of mind, body, and spirit, Rice has been in my art off and on throughout the years. Embossing rice into the paper creates a new kind of mark. Mark making is an integral part of my work. Some marks form letters or words, create texture or patterns, or are formed by stitching. These marks create a structured chaos or uniform sizes and shapes.
After embossing, I work the pastels into the surface of the paper, spraying a clear fixative between the layers. Often as many as 12 layers of color are built up to create depth and luminosity.

There is an ancient story from China about traps of hollowed-out coconuts filled with cooked rice that were left along a path frequented by monkeys. There was a hole in each one about the size of a monkey’s open hand. Once the monkeys fisted the rice, they could not pull their hand out through the now too-small opening. The monkeys who let go went on to find abundance in the jungle while the monkeys who did not were trapped. This parable invites us to ask ourselves: what is our rice? and what are we holding on to? (adapted from The Book of Awakening by Mark Nepro).

Unbound I &II

These are the first two pieces in a series of about 100 pieces where I examine the aspect of Longing. Longing without risk leads to a life of unrealized dreams and misplaced possibilities. How much you want something is proportionate to the risk you are willing to take to achieve it. Risk is so different for each of us. For one it may be hosting a dinner party, for another, a change in career. For another it is saying I love you, for someone else, it is saying I don’t. Risk is being All-In, saying Yes!. It is Stretching – emotionally, spiritually, physically, or intellectually. Longing is the essential road map that leads to Risk.

Symbolically, the book-like structure represents us as both, a collective and individual. It was created from one sheet of paper, torn, soaked, and peeled apart. The paper curls and folds naturally in reaction, much like how our own lives are shaped by events. It is purposely left blank, leaving the fibrous scars formed from the pulling apart. Beautiful. Rough. Scarred. Every WoMan. The thread– the binding – is unraveling, yielding to the force of the paper as it curls into itself.

Boxed In
This series emerged as I prepared to go to China in 2018 to facilitate a program on leadership to college students for the World Academy for the Future of Women. While there, I would also facilitate art experiences rural villagers for a WAFW program called give Voice to Women through the Arts, funded by a US State Department grant.
While making this piece, I was thinking about my perceptions of the Chinese culture and communism. I was curious about how much autonomy people have living in a communist country. How big is the box of their lives? How boxed in do they feel?
We all have the boxes of our lives, whether they are self-imposed, or government enforced, or formed by some other outside force. How we navigate, climb out or into the next box or tether to another, separates and unites us.

This series emerged as I prepared to go to China in 2018 to facilitate a program on leadership to college students for the World Academy for the Future of Women. While there, I would also facilitate art experiences rural villagers for a WAFW program called give Voice to Women through the Arts, funded by a US State Department grant.

While making this piece, I was thinking about my perceptions of the Chinese culture and communism.  I was curious about how much autonomy people have living in a communist country.  How big is the box of their lives? How boxed in do they feel?

We all have the boxes of our lives, whether they are self-imposed, or government enforced, or formed by some other outside force.  How we navigate, climb out or into the next box or tether to another, separates and unites us.

The Dance of the Dissident Daughter I & II
A nod to the author Sue Monk Kidd, this series is a homage to the relationship with my Mother. She passed away 20 years ago, before some of the most expansive and expressive moments of my life.  There is so much I would have liked to have shared with her.

Ours was not always a close relationship rife with its own set of challenges.  I was challenging.  I know I was not easy to raise.  I was a finicky eater (still am, only now it is a trend), a creative thinker, slow to process and overly emotive.  She didn’t know what to do with me and I didn’t know how to be with her.  Not for lack of trying by either of us.

Waves of memories guided me to lessons I learned from her and what she might have learned from me.  And what we knew together.  Who I was, what she wanted me to be (or so I believed) and who I have become.

I love the scope of expression in these two pieces as I make my way through my respect for her, my understanding of her, and my yearning for her, still after 20 years. I see us as perfectly imperfect (I) and the scars and impressions we left on each other (II).  Tied to each other, unfolding, yielding, holding on.

Time and Again
The mandala has had deep and personal meaning for me for most of my life. I represented kaleidoscope artists for nearly 3 decades and was immersed in the beauty, the symmetry and the rhythm of the changing patterns found within these magical and artistic devices.

In recent years, I have used the mandala in workshops I organized and sometimes led working with Veterans, Survivors of Suicide, and non-English speaking adult refugees, as well as my work with young women around the world through the World Academy for the Future of Women.

This series, these mandalas, is about the repetition of behaviors and beliefs that inform our choices. Our days can be a repetition of habit or a conscious engagement with activity.  It is by looking and doing, and through stillness and observation that we can really see the effects on our lives.

I found my silence to be monochromatic.  A soft, quiet time where I could be still in the pause between the breaths, thoughts floating by without engagement, and a focus on peace and tranquility.  Through this engagement I discovered the brilliance and the colors of stilled silence.

The Woundedness of Being Human
This piece was created shortly after my oldest sister sustained a brain injury. It affected her executive functioning and left her incapable of tending to herself.  Her care and quality of life fell into the hands of all the siblings.  Although the seven of us rallied together on her behalf, the injury took its toll on us as a family.  This piece was created as I grappled with the grief, the disbelief, the added responsibilities, and the opening of old wounds from the dysfunctional dynamics that often accompanies a large catholic family such as ours.

Although titled the Woundedness of Being Human, it faces the duality that resides in each of us.

The duality of being human insists that we sift through the chaos in pursuit of personal truth to discover our unique inner lightness of being.  In doing so, we discover the uniqueness of our own humanity.  The duality of being human is that we sift through the chaos to recognize our individually and our role in the collective, our impact on the collective consciousness, and our dependency on being part of something greater than ourselves.