handstories

Claiming the elephant in my room

    A few days ago, thinking about the love/hate relationship with my birthday, feeling pleased that it was in a few days and there was only a little of the usual pre-birthday gloom going on, and then realized that it was actually a couple of weeks away, and that there was still plenty of time to go into the dark side.

    And then I found this childhood drawing.  Five years old?  A circus theme- there is a trapeze artist and a clown on a unicycle on the other side.  I remember drawing it at Great Aunt Peggy's house.  We all loved her and her tiny house, and I'm sure that the blue walls of her living room are where my desire for blue began.

    Anyhow...

    The drawing triggered and fed a whole lot of old things.  And then it became a "pet pebble," an assignment for the Creativity Lab class.  The goal was to use tape and paper and get in touch with making in a childlike way.  It worked.  There was a need to do more with this elephant, some memories, and birthdays...

      Channeling my inner five-year-old, I'm going without a plan.  No rules, other than not undoing anything.  If something doesn't fit, I'm making it work with scissors, more fabric, or stitches.  I stitched on it all day Friday with a lot of joy and some tears.

        Still going... I don't know where.  Maybe more sequins and beads, and, if I can find it, silver thread.  It's a celebration.  I'm loving it.  It's still growing.  Me too.

Freedom.

    The square for Social Justice Sewing Academy has journeyed back to the organization.  Before it left, there were a few changes and additions.  The lips just weren't right, and I couldn't get them there, so out they came.  In the end, I think the square is stronger without them.

    Wanting each half to stand alone and to be connected with the other,  there is a ghost of the missing  "free" and "dom" on either half of the square.

    This square was a challenge, came at a challenging time, and it was a gift.  It brought focus to some control issues (how I desperately want to get things right, especially when it's for someone else), and it forced me to let some of them go (at least for this moment), because there was no way to know the mind of the maker, and there was a deadline. 

    I've signed up for another one.  You can, too... Here.

doodling the days away

    Last week, the students were creating gems, and I was itching to join in, but there were other things that needed done.

    This weekend the dark gray weather got to me, so I scattered some swashes of watercolor, including some shimmering supernova colors from here  (not surprisingly, my favorite is "starlight"), and then doodled my own cache of jewels.

    Meditative and fun, a very swell way to spend some time.

    (And, no, there isn't a Christmas cookie in the house, a gift wrapped, or any ornaments up, but there are lights on the tree and the afghan is almost done...)

    "There's still plenty of time," she told herself (almost convincingly).

apricots & moons

    "This is apricot!"

        "Yes, it is.  Do you like to eat apricots?"

    "You can't eat crayons!"

        "That's right, but you can eat the fruit named apricot."

    "Apricot is a crayon, not a fruit!"

        "This crayon is named apricot, because it's the color of a fruit that's called apricot.  Have you ever seen an apricot fruit?  It's like a small peach."

    "This is not a peachy crayon, it's an apricot crayon!  You can't eat crayons!"

    And so the conversation with this first grader went, as he colored layer after layer on only a few spots of his owl.  He is usually a happy boy, and he is on the spectrum.  He loves art, and we always discuss the rainbows on the wall (there are three!), and he always falls apart when it's time to stop.  I don't blame him.  Today there was extra frustration when the crayon he chose turned out to be pink not red, and even more when it happened again.  And then I realized he was throwing the unwanted pink crayons into the recycle can behind him.  He couldn't have pink crayons at his table because boys don't use pink... well, that was another conversation.

    We talk and talk, along with the other cheery boy at the table, who wants to manage everything and everyone, except himself.  Try as he might, he couldn't convince me to trade my owl for his.  Coloring and chatting (along with a little wrangling) with these characters is very good stuff.

    Today I filled my pocket with moon gifts from Jude.  Sweet glowing touchstones.

    Later, the apricot one came to the sea with me.

Why.

    There are days when a soul wakes up, looks in the mirror, and sighs heavily.  There I was looking back at me this morning.  Tired, old, fat, ugly... all the words came.  And the feelings- of not wanting to go out in the world and be seen.  

    But off to work I went, in my jeans and Goodwill plaid flannel shirt, which seems to be all I want to put on these days.  

    The fourth graders were working on their Basquiat inspired profiles.  (Ms. T. is so great about introducing powerful artists that this community of children can identify with.  She talks to them about making their own choices, telling their own stories and perseverance.)  

    One boy was done and called me over to see his painting (above).

    "Do you know what all of this red part is?  This red pouring over and dripping into the head?  It's all the bad stuff.  The pushing and shoving.  The name calling.  All of it."

        "Is there something in the head that helps to get it out?  The yellow?  The ladder?"

    "Nope.  Nothing works, unless there's an apology."

        "Does someone need to apologize to you?"

    "Nope."

        "How is your day going?"

    "Pretty good."

        "You know what I notice about your painting?  The words you chose to put in your head... Think, Summer of Days, Machine at work, Glory.  Those are good strong things.  The other night my singing group sang "Glory" from the movie "Selma" about when Dr. Martin Luther King and many others marched for their rights.  They were pushed and shoved and called bad names, but they kept on marching and working for what was right.  Your painting makes me think of all of that.  Thank you for sharing it."

    "Yep.  You're welcome."

    I'm so glad I went out into the world today.

 

"The Radiant Child" by Jean-Michel Basquiat 

in & out, round & round

    The art teacher shared the beautiful bold work of Xenobia Bailey with the third graders, and then they wove . . .

    They all began with the same colors, but then went wild with their own ideas.  Some of the yarns were from my stash, including some early handspinning.  It was fun to share some of their stories with them as the students worked.  

    Today I stitched them together for displaying.  I love them grouped together, and seeing how happy the kids were with the results.  "We made that?!"

avocado & pine tree green

(His)

    This artist, a second grader, I think. (See, it’s all a blur…), as his class came in, I noticed he had started his usual wandering. He’s not interested in the warm up routine. At all. What works for him is to give him a job.

    Actually, what works best is to ask him for help. He will pass out, wash up, wipe off, etc… if asked. So, he helped me set up, and then was willing to start the assignment (experimenting with color mixing), but it was going too slow for him.  His interest was quickly waning, so I asked him to help me do it, too. “My hands are still wet, can you fold my paper? Write my numbers? My name?”

(mine)

    We had a very good successful time, especially with the oranges and greens.

a scattering of stars, moons & thoughts

    I really love making stars.  

    Back to school today.  A pretty calm day, considering.  Maybe they were all tired from having to get up and get going again after vacation?  After two plus weeks, I'd forgotten how dark it is before 8 am!

    Enjoyed the super moon last night, shivering on the corner in my slippers.

    I aim to write more about the classroom, but honestly, the days are such blurs of activity that I can hardly remember any of the children's names, let alone what happened (one of my weaknesses, which I try to cover with a lot of "Sweetie's").  But more and more there are moments when I get to hang out with someone having a hard time.  This artist was scribbling all over that wolf on the right . . .  

    "Whoa . . .Your beautiful wolf!"

        "It's not working!"

    "Let's find it again and see..."  After some serious erasing, and cheerleading, he came around, and dove back into the assignment, adding the bark marks and the deer.  Moments like this can fill my whole day.

frenzied felting

    Part of the crazy in the school days leading up to Winter Break, is the attempt to finish up projects before vacation.  I had started felting stones with the third grade classes a couple of weeks ago.  Each week pulling aside five students to go through the process with.  

Today we decided to focus on getting one of the three classes done.  Eighteen students.  All at once.

    We circled a long table, elbow to elbow, with tubs of hot and cold water down the center, and towels, lots and lots of towels.  "Ok, people, here we go!  Here are drops of dish soap that will help the magic happen... Sprinkle with the hot water... Pass it back and forth between your hands gently, like a cloud, like a bubble... Don't pop the bubble!... Sprinkle the hot...  Repeat!  (To help keep things/them/me calm I started singing the "Hum Dum Diddly Dum" song (a mindless wordless tune, to which they very sweetly joined in)  Time to shock the rocks!  Into the hot, press the water out... OVER the tubs!...  Into the hot, press... Roll it lightly, like an egg...  Shock it again!...  Now rub it with all of your might!..."  

    This is a condensed version of the non-stop monologue I called out to them, all the while, circling the table, round and round demonstrating and checking on each one's progress...  Keeping one out of the water, where he was determined to play...  Convincing a girl that she did too have enough muscles to get the job done...  And reminding a couple of them that, NO, they were not for juggling!

    Fifteen minutes later there were eighteen beautiful stones in the hands of happy children, and one very tired me.  Two more classes to go... After vacation!

a piece of peace

    "Piece of Mind" by Moon.

    Sometime in early May, Moon asked what I wanted for Mother's Day.  

    "Peace of mind," I told him.

    When we finally got around to "celebrating" the occasion (which happened to be on Father's Day, which tells you a little about the state of things around here), this is what he gave me.

    Made in art class, this little (1x1 1/2 inch-ish) bit of brain makes me laugh, which means it does bring a little bit of peace after all.  

    We're off in search of a few more pieces of peace . . . going to the island for a few days, and it rained last night, hooray!  

    Wishing you all a very swell week . . .