I hadn’t thought of art as a vehicle for gratitude, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it was exactly that – art is a prayer sent out to all calling for peace, beauty, love, all the colors of the rainbow, the rain coming softly down washing everything clean. This weekend, I looked back at some of the photos I’ve taken and suddenly saw prayers of gratitude embedded in their images.
Category: memory
Portrait of the Artist as an Old Woman
Recently, a good friend told me about Nell Painter’s book, Old in Art School. I knew immediately that I had to push it up to first on my summer reading list. I am indulging in Nell’s journey from Princeton history academic to an BFA at Rutgers’ Mason Gross School of Visual Arts to an MFA from the prestigious Rhode Island School of design. Much of Nell’s book is familiar because she is a Jersey girl and I also attended Rutgers as both an undergraduate and graduate. The essential questions of what is art and who is an artist repeat as a refrain in this memoir. I took a long slow read, trying my best to experience what Nell had lived.
Summertime Whimsy
It’s summertime. The world goes spinning on, off kilter. Over my decades on this planet, it seems that the world has always spun off kilter. There is good and evil in this world and both push and pull. I believe good will win out in the end. I believe in art, education, nature, and the human spirit. I know these things make life hopeful. And though, there are many things I can be anxious about right now, I choose joy and laughter. Summer is here. I want to face it like I did when I was a young girl, with hope and wild abandon.
The Art of Poetry: Eating Our Words
I'm not sure what I like to do more: write poetry or make delicious things to eat. I do know that children love to prepare food because of sensory stimulation it entails. Making food from scratch is a creative process, much like writing. You imagine, plan, and then set to work creating something special. Whether the final product is a poem or a delectable dish, the process is the same, and the end results are satisfying.
Stormy Weather: Celebrating Poetry Month
I loved stringing words together. I loved the way they formed in my mouth and rushed out into the air. Poetry was magical, and I felt I had some of that magic in me. Now, as a poet and teacher, I enjoy bringing that love of the spoken word to children. This month, Deborah, my friend and dear librarian at the school where I teach, invited me to be the guest poet during her library times with 1st through 4th graders.
Healing Through Poetry: A Daughter’s Journey
My father died two weeks ago. He was 99 years old. He had a good and long life. He gave me poetry, a puppy, love of literature, love of travel, love of food and cooking, and love of learning.
Cooking Inspiration from The Pasta Queen: Poetry and Passion
I have been binge watching Nadia Caterina Munno, the Pasta Queen. She is incredibly passionate about Italian food. Her show is a treat alternating from places in Italy to her kitchen in Florida. She is smart, funny, and spicy. What a personality! I love watching and listening to her.
Spring Break Artifacts
It is my last couple of days on spring break. I’ve slept late, ate good food, written poems about food, and took long walks capturing the beauty I saw with my camera. I am trying to do things that nourish me, that uplift me, that help to better understand my purpose. The sunshine and warm weather has definitely lifted my spirits, and I hope I have absorbed enough of its healing energy to bring back north to our muddy March season.
Sew Easy: A Heartfelt Journey
Many things that my mother loved, I love - teaching, making art, reading, eating cheese and crackers, putting on bright lipstick, and sewing. My mother was an amazing seamstress and dress designer well before she had kids and became a teacher. She would hold a piece of fabric in her hand, fold it, cut it without a pattern, and make something wonderful to wear. She had a gift, and it was magical.
February Snow
On a recent trek to the park, I watched families sled down a small but slick slope. It was fun to see parents cheering on their children. One little girl with bright pink cheeks had a death grip on the edges of her snow disc as she screamed all the way down the hill. She ran back up shouting, “That was TERRIFYING! Let’s do it again!”
Word Dancer: Literature, the Arts, & Education 