The museum exhibit closed Saturday. Nancy wasn’t one bit interested in the cloth bearing her drawings in stitch. (As you can see here and in Angela’s post, Nancy was much more interested in smiling for the birdie.) I didn’t think she would make the connection or be interested in the cloth version of her drawings, but i hoped.
In Our Own Language, Set 1 is three panels, each measuring 59″ by 90″. Space being what it was, one panel hung in the main exhibit room, and the other two panels hung back in the museum’s classroom.
It was a moving exhibit. Time stood still, and tears fell abundantly as women paid homage to the women who inspire them . . . grandmothers, mothers, friends, teachers. You just never know how your words or deeds are going to change the course of somebody else’s life. So many touching stories, so many different kinds of art, all beautifully hung and displayed with space in between each piece to allow pauses needed to soak it all in.
These beautiful eggs were made by Florida Museum for Women Artists’ Executive Director, a young Crystal and her Baba (grandmother).
Just look at the beautiful edging on the cloth – this was stitched by Crystal’s Baba and imagine having something that your grandmother’s hands had stitched. Just look at the detail in these eggs and imagine creating those details by applying wax and dipping in dye then removing the wax. Just imagine the wisdom and stories shared in the time it took to make each egg.
Mona, Nancy’s teacher, came and brought her mother, then spent the entire time sitting with Nancy (Andy did get her a chair after I took this picture), keeping a blank page in front of her (because Nancy doesn’t have the fine motor skills to turn one page at a time) and to keep her from wandering off. I may suggest turning one page at a time as something we could put on Nancy’s support plan. They’re always looking for specific skills to work on.
It was interesting to be able to stand behind Nancy and watch the unfolding of her art from over her shoulder. I don’t know why, it just was. Though I didn’t have time to tell her about how and why I do things a certain way with Nancy, Mona instinctively knew to keep the drawings in order (I like to note the progressions, the development of each set of drawings) and to give Nancy a choice of only dark colors (to provide the contrast which makes for better scanned and printed images).
I had only two sketchbooks, and when I could see that Nancy was drawing faster than usual, I stepped outside and tore the pages of the second sketchbook in half. She finished the last drawing just as the last artist presented her work. Magical timing.
(front row, l to r: Nancy (who finally notices the cloth) and Jeanne. back row, l to r: Mona and Angela. Photo by my husband/Nancy’s brother, Andy, who continues to offer unwavering and varied support. I don’t know what I’d do without him, and I hope I never have to find out.)
It was a good day. It was a very good day.