Tag: in our own language (Page 2 of 4)

You Call It Woo, I Call it Way

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In Our Own Language 4:5

She (Nancy, my developmentally disabled sister-in-love draws.
I (Jeanne, the woman who flat-out loves her) stitch.

Several weeks ago my waking thought was “I’m ready to write.” Within a few days (less than a week), I had 3 requests to write guest blog posts, and I saw an ad in the local paper for a writer’s retreat right down the road from us. Mari Ann, founder of the retreat who’s also a crackerjack editor and writer, and Susan, who wrote a deeply moving book about her brother who was killed in Vietnam and has just turned the manuscript for her second book into the publisher, invited me to attend one of their read-and-give-feedback lunches. (Which I did, and it was fabulous!)

Chocolategrapes

Today on the way to our table at the Boone Tavern Inn in Berea, KY, I bopped into the gift shop to ask if they had any chocolate-covered grapes in. No, the manager said, but she had 4 boxes due in tomorrow. I promised to check back with her after lunch in case some arrived early. They hadn’t, but I paid for 3 of the boxes and we made arrangements for her to hold them for me till we come back through on Sunday. We then went to walk and shop, and after we visited the restrooms, got some water, and filled the car up with fuel, and as we prepared to leave town, I pulled out her card to call, just in case they’d come in while we were out and about. With the phone in my left hand and her card in my right, I raised a finger to mash the first number when my phone rang. It was Kylie, the store manager calling to tell me that the grapes had just come in.

Things like this keep happening to me, do they happen to you, too? Decide what you want and let The Sweet Spirit of Surprise know, then watch for her to put down stepping stones in front of you leading you there. My Shero,  Tracey Selingo who is fluent in this kind of living, calls it Woo, I’m beginning to call it simply Way. It’s pure magic, but it doesn’t just happen without some involvement from you. There’s a turning over, a surrender, a letting go, a trust and faith that must happen. You don’t just tell and wait. Oh no. You have to stay awake and recognize opportunities when they appear because the Sweet Spirit of Surprise can be a rascal. And know this: if you go to sleep or if you don’t avail yourself of the wonderfulness She puts in front of you, She’ll stop wasting her time and energy on you. That’s just the way She is. If you want it, go after it. Talk all you will about what you want, but don’t you ever forget that actions speak louder than words. Especially to the Sweet Spirit of Surprise.

A Cloth, A Lightbulb, A Birthday

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In Our Own Language 4:4

She (Nancy, my developmentally disabled sister-in-love draws.
I (Jeanne, the woman who flat-out loves her) stitch.

A lightbulb moment as I was having imaginary conversations with real friends: I’ve fallen into the ghetto side of self talk. You should hear what rattles around inside my brain any given day.

“I can’t get anything done for the all the interruptions.”
“I can’t do anything when I travel except what other people want to do.”
“I’m gonna’ die without having finished anything.”

And so on.
And so on.
And so on.

Now you and I both know that what we say on the inside is the navigator for where we go and how we live, so I’ve made a few changes. Starting now, whenever I hear the ever-familiar (and comfortable?) ghetto talk, I’m stopping right then and there and changing it to things like: “Wow – look at all I’ve accomplished despite the interruptions and OPA’s (other people’s agendas).”

Okay, so I still have some tweaking to do, but I’m headed in the right direction, getting back on track.

Today is The Engineer’s birthday, and here are reasons #7340-7344 that I adore him:

7340: He is patient.
7341: He is kind.
7342: Not once in the 42 years of our togetherness has he ever responded to something I want by saying “that’s ridiculous.”
7343: He’s funny. Or can be.
7344: I’ve never had to hide a price tag.

Yes, you’re right: it’s his birthday, and I’m the one receiving the gift.

ARCHoldingJHCBdayCakeFeb1973 copy 2
The Engineer holding my birthday cake. I’d known him less than 2 weeks at this point, and I told him I wanted a picture of my birthday cake. What I really wanted, though, (and I’m pretty sure this will not come as a shock to him) was a picture of his handsome countenance cause I knew – I just knew – from that first meeting, he was The One. Isn’t he absolutely adorable? I mean, really, how could anybody resist him?

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The Engineer last fall in Dublin.
He’s a little taller than me, something that always surprises me.
Happy birthday, you.

Onward

Sometimes onward means going back
or stepping into The Great Unknown . . .

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Recent photos of Nancy taken by Mona Diethrick
indicate that she’s moved from drawing to something else.
Arranging?

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Bringing order?

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Maybe a type of mosaics?

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One thing’s for sure: her work as an artist is evolving.
And I’m just tickled
and intrigued
and thrilled.

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Meanwhile back on the ranch,

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I pick up where I left off on
In Our Own Language 3,

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restitching the 50 drawings
I removed to give me a nice, generous border.
Is it just me, or are the days getting shorter?
And I don’t mean on account of the season or time change.
I distinctly remember getting more done
in the days of years gone by.

~~~~~~~ Backstory ~~~~~~~

Since June 2012:
She, Nancy, my developmentally disabled sister-in-law draws.
I, Jeanne, the woman who flat-out loves her, stitch her drawings.

Click here to see more In Our Own Language 1
and here for In Our Own Language 2
and you guessed it – here for In Our Own Language 3.

~~~~~~~

This post is part of Nina-Marie’s Off the Wall Friday.

the three PR’s

Photo 1

the attorney’s father was a probate judge who never did his own will. with six children and no will, there’s trouble. hurt feelings. old hurts and memories and grudges rise quickly to the surface. they are not speaking, the children, and everybody including us, wonders why a man who dealt with wills for a living wouldn’t take the time to draw up his own. the shoemaker’s children go barefooted, and the probate judge’s children feud.

Photo 4

not a fun way to spend a morning – even with the story and the walk the engineer and i treated ourselves to afterwards (the source of these photos) – but a necessary expenditure of time.

here’s the thing: drawing up a will, creating a living will and powers of attorney (healthcare and property) doesn’t bring on your death. it simply means you are smart enough to know that you will die one day and that you love enough to face that irrefutable fact and show love in a way you never thought about before.

do you love yourself enough to draw up a living will so that your very existence doesn’t fall into the hands of a medical staff who don’t even make eye contact?

do you love your heirs enough to draw up a will so that all you’ve worked for and created doesn’t get divvied up and disposed of by the government?

do you love your support people, be they family or friends, enough to draw up powers-of-attorney so that they can tend to things for you without resistance and interference from strangers?

Photo 3

we have a God Forbid book, i tell the attorney to stop him as he launches into Creating A Will 101. i tell him about how i see this as love – living love, leaving love. i tell him about how as a personal historian and an end-of-life doula i know that people just flat out refuse to put themselves in touch with their own mortality. even the smartest among us, i’m talking about.

i tell him about the God Forbid (as in God Forbid you ever need this information) book i created eons ago for the children telling them everything they need to know – bank accounts, memberships, software, who to call lists, medical info, location of keys and important papers, and well, you get the idea. i tell the attorney how we keep it updated and have annual meetings with our children every thanksgiving (as in we’re so thankful we’re here to tell you about it again this year). he is suitably impressed and we are able to skip ahead to the changes we want made. it’s not that we have much, it’s just that i want our children to have time to grieve. yes, really.

it’s not just the heirs who have all sorts of bric-a-brac float to the surface when dealing with wills. i find myself thinking about who’s been most attentive, who makes an effort to stay in touch, who’s responsible. do i want to use a will to reward? do i want to take the easy and nice way out and just divide everything equally (which feels an awful lot like socialism to me)? some things are obvious and require no angst decision making. the child who always baked the cakes gets the bowl and spoon my grandmother used to make cakes with. the child who laid in the floor laughing as we read bedtime stories gets the books. i’m not saying it’s the right or wrong approach, i just think it’s good to be clear and clean about these things, about the motivation, even if only on the inside. or, if you want to be like me, right out in the open on your blog for the whole galaxy to see. when preparing these important documents, it’s important to bring the right amount of emotion and good sense, to be sure that decisions aren’t made solely on emotions or logic.

a note, though: probably not a good idea to give the child in prison power of attorney, and that’s not a character assault, it’s a matter of needing to have someone who can show up in a jiffy. just saying.

Photo 2

years ago, i began to ask the children what, in particular, they wanted when we die. even though it might be tinged with anticipation, i’m hopeful that the items will be imbued with even more meaning, memory, sentimental value knowing that they will own it one day and i’m now using it regularly.

i make a list and write letters of explanation, just in case.

this year i’ll ask if either of my chiclets want my journals or any of my hymns of cloth. it’s a question i dread asking because i don’t want them to feel obligated to say “yes” even though i deeply and desperately hope to year a quick and hearty “yes”. if you want to know the truth, i want them to argue and fight over the journals and cloths. at least a wee little bit.

will they want pieces from In Our Own Language 1? or 2? or 3? will the Rinse Cycle series prick their interest with tales of pivotal epiphanies in a woman’s life?

Photo 1 1

will they want pieces from the My Kitchen Table series in which i create cloths for each person who’s nourished my life in some way? like this plate for my maternal grandmother. biscuits from scratch, cake contests, quilts, piano, flowers growing everywhere, feather bed, the irregular whir of the treadle sewing machine, gardens, canning, clothes hung on the line to dry, hand lotion that smelled of rose water. she never drove a car, but she had her very own riding lawn mower, and let me tell you what: she enjoyed using it, always wearing her straw hat, both hands kept on the wheel at all times. i don’t ever remember seeing her wearing pants. she taught me music and sunshine and planning for the future.

preparing for the future.
preserving the past.
not a bad way to spend the present.

Scratch

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This weekend,
I suffered a flare-up of the ever-familiar
doubt,
fueled and fanned by the never far away question
“Do I even have a voice to call my own?”

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Having spent my life as a teacher,
a mother,
a wife,
a daughter –
having written plenty of personal histories
been a freelance graphic designer helping folks look good in print
edited books penned by other women
now stitching Nancy’s drawings,
I can’t help but wonder:
do I lose my voice by giving other women their voice?

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Is my voice one of back-up,
second string,
bridesmaid?
Is that as good as it gets for me?

My maternal grandmother made biscuits from scratch three times a day.
Folks devoured them enthusiastically (even when cold)
and praised her name with reverence and awe.

Do I have anything original and worthwhile to say from scratch?

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Having almost finished In Our Own Language 3 (shown in photos above),
I begin stitching In Our Own Language 4.
95 drawings made in November 2012
in which Nancy wrote her name
then covered it up,
camouflaged it,
hid it.

On Creative Authority

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I am gobsmacked with these drawings.

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with Nancy’s use of color.

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It’s obvious that she’s making choices.
She’s also filling the page, and that’s significant.

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I just had no idea how on earth I’ll stitch these drawings, so I turned a few into fabric then stitched over it by hand. There’s still a learning curve ahead of me to avoid the pixillation of the images, but I’m rather liking this choice, this direction I’m taking with In Our Own Language 10. Yes, I’ve skipped from In Our Own Language 3 to In Our Own Language 10 cause when ideas and inspiration comes to visit, I invite them in for tea. (Sweet tea, of course, in a big ole’ Mason jar that sweats in the summertime heat of The South. But you knew that.)

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The vessel I stitched is a shape Nancy uses a lot.
Sometimes with pencil strokes,

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sometimes with space.

I want to do more with that shape, with that vessel.

 

I reorganized The Dissenter’s Chapel (a.k.a. my studio) this weekend. Had to take down the quotes scribbled on slips of paper that decorated my Wall of Fortitude to make room for something else. This is one of my all-time favorites:

“Creative authority is when you believe in yourself. You don’t hedge it, you don’t say ‘but it’s not true for everybody’ – you say ‘This is the way it is’, and not everybody sees it.” Ellie Epp, the faculty advisor I worked with my third semester of graduate school, wrote me that.

a weekend well spent

dolly parton sings “it’s just a little bitty puissant country place, nothin’ much to see.” the words she uses to describe what is reported to be the best little whorehouse in texas are the same words i use to describe The Dissenter’s Chapel (a.k.a. my studio).

(but i don’t sing it.)

(you’re welcome.)

Andybuilds

Before1

Cubby2

i spent the weekend (re)organizing my studio for the umpteenth time
after andy (my fabulous husband)
built me some cubbies that my fabric now calls home.
in a studio this small,
when you move one thing,
you move everything.
and everything must serve multiple uses.

Quiltbase1

quilts, for example,

Mannequin2

become a pedestal for the mannequin that wears not one but two party frocks.
(there’s another one underneath this periwinkle beauty.)

having so much in plain sight
makes for a constant battle between
inspiration
and visual clutter.
on my list of things to think about
is how to attach a shade to the
new cubbies.
maybe i can even find a way for it
to double as a designing wall.

Flower2

Flower3

even with all the reorganizing,
i still took walks
to get my steps in, you know

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and i finished
stitching all the drawings (271, but who’s counting)
for In Our Own Language 3.

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tomorrow i start fiddling around
with this fabric and this hand dyed thread
to figure out the border.

in the home stretch . . . well actually, sliding into third base is more like it

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as i stitch, i wonder what nancy’s thinking as she draws.
what she’s trying to say.

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i marvel at how most of her drawings are one stroke.
she puts the pen to the paper
and doesn’t pick it up till she’s finished
with that particular drawing.
the “x” tells me which side is the top.

i have 37 of the 271 drawings left to stitch
on In Our Own Language 3.
if i stitch 4 drawings a day, i’ll be starting on the border before the end of the month.
join me in a squeal of excited anticipation?

Bigassmoth

miss luna moth came to visit my studio last week.
thank goodness she stayed on the other side of the glass
cause you know: moths and cloths don’t exactly go together like a horse and carriage.
but then i guess that depends on whether you’re asking me or the moth.

///

susan lenz, one of the most prolific artists i know,
tagged me in her blog post today. go here
to read more about her process and what she’s currently up to
(she really does turn the proverbial sow’s ear into a silk purse.)
and stop back by next monday when i’ll answer the questions
about process and productivity.

getting organized and taking stock

Stackofnancysdrawings04july2014

where other girls wore pretty necklaces and lanyards they braided at summer camp, i wore the cutest little brownie camera you ever saw. you know, the kind you had to lick the base of the flash bulbs to ensure they’d go off when you snapped a picture. i guess i’ve always been the family historian, and once upon a decade, i earned my living as a personal historian, recording stories about a person, then sifting through their photos and documents, eventually pulling everything together into a book.

at the suggestion of several people i met at that workshop a few weeks ago, i’ve started writing a book about nancy. one day last week i took stock of her drawings. turns out i have 11 sets (remember, a set = the drawings i bring home from a visit with her), and the numbers look like this:

set 1 – 6/2012 – 167 drawings
set 2 – 8/2012 – 454 drawings
set 3 – 10/2012 – 271 drawings
set 4 – 11/2012 – 94 drawings (we were with her only one day that time)
set 5 – 3/2013 – 162 drawings
set 6 – 3/13/2013 to 7/13/2013 – 366 drawings (these are drawings she made at her day program
set 7 – 7/2013 – 35 drawings
set 8 – 7/2013 to 11/2013 – 279 drawings
set 9 – 11/2013 – 102 drawings
set 10 – 12/2013 to 6/2014 – 889 drawings (yes, really)
set 11 – 6/2014 – 257 drawings

i ordered binders and page protectors to store them in instead of the rubber band method currently in use. next week, i’ll get them in the binders, and i’ll scan the sets i haven’t yet scanned. i’m kinda’ excited to be able to look at the drawings while slipping through a book. every time i look at them through a different lens, i see different things.

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meanwhile, i continue working on In Our Own Language 3. last week i figured i could have it completed by the end of july. now that’s funny and proof that i live in a fantasy world.

A Barn Dance, Kinda’

Barn2

Barn1

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Today The Engineer took me out behind the barn –
Okay, he took me over TO the barn,
where we hung In Our Own Language #1

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and In Our Own Language #2.

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It is the first time I’ve seen
all three panels of
In Our Own Language #1 hung together,
and it is the first time I’ve seen
In Our Own Language #2 at all
because our ceilings are quite low
and we don’t even have enough floor space
for me to spread it out on the floor and
climb in a chair for a look.

A neighbor came by to see what we were doing
and declared the cloths “pretty”.
It was obvious he was eager
to get back to playing on
his new toy: the cutest little backhoe you ever saw.

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In Our Own Language #1 is Nancy’s first set of drawings.

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She drew them in June 2012.

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There are 167 drawings in set 1.

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In Our Own Language #2 is her second set of drawings

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created in August 2012.

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There are 454 drawings in set 2.

It was quite thrilling, really.

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Hey, Sugar! I'm Jeanne Hewell-Chambers: writer ~ stitcher ~ storyteller ~ one-woman performer ~ creator & founder of The 70273 Project, and I'm mighty glad you're here. Make yourself at home, and if you have any questions, just holler.

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