Art Everywhere- Dar a Luz

Dearest family, I hope this doesn't freak you out, but my best friend Val and I have applied to Art Everywhere, a program that displays art in vacant store fronts along Granby Street in downtown Norfolk. Well, that's not the part that would freak you out. It's that the art installation we're proposing is...weird. It's what my dad would call "Artsy-Fartsy." You know what? We don't care. We had a blast coming up with it, and if it's chosen for one of the thirty-odd displays, we'll have an even better time bringing our vision to life. Also, I listed this web site on the applications, so dearest selection committee: welcome!

In case you're wondering just what Val and I proposed, here it is:

Art Everywhere Proposal: Dar a Luz – To Bring to Light

I met Valerie Joplin in Storm Lake, Iowa in 1998 when we were teens. Art has been a fundamental aspect of our friendship ever since. We have shared favorite artworks, poems and literature and advised each other on ways to improve our own work, despite constantly living far apart.

Art|Everywhere has provided us with an inspiring opportunity to collaborate. When I called Val in Hawaii to invite her to apply with me, her response was an exuberant, “Yes!” We have since been collaborating via cell phone, Facebook and Skype from distant points of America (although Val would come to Virginia to execute our project, if selected).

In visual art, my specialties are photography and photo-collages with a quilt motif. Val specializes in surreal photography, paintings and collages that use dream imagery and sensual metaphors.

We are intrigued by Art|Everywhere’s unique opportunities regarding scale and natural light, as well as its focus on transformation. The result is our proposed installation, “Dar a Luz - To Bring to Light.” The title is the Spanish term for childbirth and its literal English translation. The primary image of our work is an unsentimental, pixilated image of a pregnant woman surrounded by a multimedia mosaic, including tempura, watercolor, acrylic and mirror panels.

Because the woman is pixilated, she can only be seen properly from a distance.

However, other elements of our work will only be visible up close. For example, Val has developed a technique that involves removing some of the silvering from the back of mirrors, revealing translucent images behind the glass and allowing light to shine through. Thus, the smaller images are only visible when a viewer gets close and peers into the mirrors.

Our installment would be loosely divided into three sections: the first a large photo quilt that dissolves into the second, a dreamy mosaic centered on the pixilated image of a pregnant woman. This image would ebb into the third section, which

emphasizes empty space and will also feature an enzo, a Zen koan that emphasizes the question: “Where does a circle begin?” which begs the deeper question, “Where does transformation begin?” For us the answer is: it begins inside, as all things do.

Our work will be six or seven feet tall and use the entire length of a window. Any ground-level space would work well.

We hope you will select our project so that we can bring our vision to life."

And honestly, if Val and I were chosen, we would have a ball with this project. We haven't seen each other since I was living in Spanish Harlem, I think, which was probably five years ago? And I honestly think we would rock it! It would be unlike anything anyone else has done, and attention-grabbing. Not everyone would like it, but it would make people think. It would be crazy gorgeous. Emphasis on the crazy? Not really. It's unusual, but the whole point of art is to look at the world in new, beautiful ways. If nothing else, this experiment has done that for me. It's good to have a fresh pair of eyes.

Want to watch my thesis reading?

Mom had the brilliant idea for me to record my thesis reading, since none of my family or non-Norfolk friends could make it. I set up my laptop on the podium and let it record. After a few moments, though, the screen went black, so we didn’t really know when we were in frame. Still, it turned out pretty well, though the microphone on my Mac only caught the loudest laughs and comments from the audience. Sometimes it sounds like we pause for no reason, but they’re laughing. As funny as we sound on the recording, in real life we were even funnier!

Speaking of funny, the goofy intros were Jesse’s idea, yet when it came time to read mine, he chickened out, and in so doing killed the laughs! Boo! BC is to blame for me cursing in his intro…although I’m solely to blame for my use of the “f” word in “The Science of Wearing High Heels.” Sorry.

A funny thing about that night: I had planned to drive, but my roomies blocked in my car. I had to RUN there in 3.5” heels and a knee-length dress, despite the chill. (It was too late to go back and change.) As a result, I start out a tad flustered, and my hair in the video is not nearly as cute as it looked pre-run. My BFF Gwen assures me that people cared more about my words, anyway.

NOTE TO MY WATCHERS: Remember, poems aren’t necessarily non-fiction, even if they contain the word “I.” Sometimes it’s me, but just as often, the person speaking in the poem is a made-up character.

Enjoy!

ODU MFA Thesis Reading Part 1- Introduction from Erin Kiley on Vimeo.

ODU MFA Thesis Reading Part 2- Erin Kiley, Poetry from Erin Kiley on Vimeo.

ODU MFA Thesis Reading Part 3- BC Wilson from Erin Kiley on Vimeo.

Maybe We Will Shine

I should be working right now, not blogging, but my brain is too twirly to focus. I figured venting might help.

I keep bouncing back and forth. One moment, I feel love and joy rolling off of me in waves that I just want to share with the world. The next, I don't feel real. It's like I'm a character in some story, and the book could close and I would cease to matter. (I know I sound manic depressive. Well, that's never been the diagnosis by the professionals thus far.)

Just when I feel irrelevant, though, I remember moments when people told me that I made their lives better. I know I'm blessed to have been told such a thing. Most people never know the good they do.

For example, I once ran into my friend Olga after several years apart. She told me, "What you said changed my life." I didn't know what she was talking about. "You told me, 'If someone is bored, it's their own fault. You choose how you react to the situation. If you decide to enjoy something, you will enjoy it." I remembered the context of the comment. We lived in Spain, and our class was discussing our proms for some reason. My senior prom was lame (in terms of decorations and music), so most people were sulking. A few of us decided we were going to have fun and dance anyway, and we had a fabulous time. We realized that happiness can be a choice. I had no idea, but my little anecdote changed the way Olga lived her life. A moment that I had thought inconsequential made her a more joyful person.

I recently received an e-mail from someone who was plagued by self-doubt, and I gave him advice. Now, I'm the one drowning in doubt, so I must give myself the same advice I gave him:

"Sometimes I cringe because my work isn't as good as that of some of my colleagues, or when they win awards and get publications I do not. There's always going to be someone better. I became a poet because I read (and fell in love with) Lorna Dee Cervantes' 'The Body as Braille.' Maybe, someday, someone will read my work and it will be what they need--it will become a part of them--the way 'The Body as Braille' has become a part of me. You never know what part of you, what gift, the world needs. As such, you must give your all."

The Bible says not to hide your light under a bushel. Enough of us hide our lights (even from ourselves) that it needed to be said, recorded in a holy text. Why? Let me quote a text I hung on the wall of my classroom in the Bronx:

Our Deepest Fear is That We Are Powerful Beyond Measure.

From A Return to Love by Marianne Williamson

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, ‘Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous?’ Actually, who are you not to be?

[…] Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There's nothing enlightening about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. […]

It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone.

And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.

As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

Work to set yourself free from fear, and I'll do the same. Maybe we will free each other. Maybe we will shine.

Article about me!

I know I haven't blogged in forever, and I promise I'll catch you all up soon, but for now, here's a link to an article about me on my university's web site!

Happy Mother's Day!

I know I'm way behind in my blogging, but schoolwork has to come first, and I'm not done yet. That said, I had to post for Mother's Day.

Most years, I send flowers, but this year I saw something on Amazon that reminded me of fun times Mom and I have shared together. I can't think about this thing without hearing my mother's voice and laughing. Unfortunately, the package didn't arrive in time, so I can't say what that item is.

Well, until her package arrives, this essay I wrote for my creative nonfiction class will just have to do. In class, we were supposed to list every pair of shoes we'd ever owned. Then we had to pick one significant pair and write an entire essay about them. I went in another direction. This was first semester, but the story stayed in my professor's head so distinctly that when I told him this week that I'll spend my summer in Iowa, he asked, "Going to try on your mother's shoes again?" Here's why:

Echoes

As a child in Iowa, I attended the school where my mother taught. She often wore high heels back then. My mother’s clack was distinct from that of any other woman I’d heard. I would hear her steps echoing down the hall and know she was coming to pick me up and take home, when we would sing “You Are My Sunshine,” driving up the driveway of our farm.

I loved to wear Mom’s shoes as a girl. I teetered happily in her heels, hiking up her old prom dress so I wouldn’t trip on the hem. By my teen years, we were the same size. I wore my mother’s navy pumps to my first job interview after college, when all of my shoes were either too casual or too sexy. Her shoes were grown-up shoes, professional.

A few years later, I became a teacher in New York City. One day, when walking to class, I heard a familiar sound. It was my mother, striding quickly down the hall. But it wasn’t. She was a thousand miles away. The sound I’d heard was me, wearing my own high heels, clicking down my own school hallway. The shoes, the path and the pace were mine, but the walk was hers.

This summer, I returned to the farm to stay for three months. I’d been away for years, with only brief stays for holidays. A few years ago, a tornado destroyed our family home, which had been in the family for 120 years. A new house was erected in its place, but I couldn’t picture it when talking to my parents on the phone, or when I dreamed at night. I hoped that a summer in the new house would make it more real to me, make it home.

I would stay all summer and help my parents on the farm. Every pair of my shoes I had that were suitable for farming had been lost in the tornado. Mom loaned me a pair of grungy white sneakers. I slid in my feet and laced them on. I was surprised at how uncomfortable they were. The dips and rises of Mom’s feet didn’t match mine at all.

The first few times I wore her shoes, picking up rocks from the pasture, or helping my dad build livestock pens in the new barn, my feet ached. Day by day, I wore her shoes as I worked the farm, watered the garden, or fed and watered sheep.

By the end of the summer, the shoes fit perfectly. Whether my feet had adjusted to the shoes, or the shoes to my feet, I don’t know. It was time to leave home again. Now I could picture the farm as it stands— changed but still my home.

My mother’s shoes were no longer things of glamor, items that hinted at who I might become. Now, they were tools of daily work, to reconnect with my past and the land. They let me be who I’d been: a girl in her mother’s shoes. I walk new paths, but always carry her rhythm.

Mom, you are strong and lovely and kind. I'm a lucky woman to have such a wonderful mother, and I am thankful for you, always.

Love,
Your Daughter

Birthday and Hybrids

No time to write it up yet, but I can post the pictures!

Check, check, zzzzzzz, check!

I know I didn't do a proper Easter posting, so let me take a moment to say that I hope yours was happy and spiritually fulfilling. I didn't go to church after last year's fiasco. I was going to try to find a new church, but I accidentally slept in. Instead, I just spent some time in prayer and reflection.

This week was like one giant checklist that I was fighting to complete, check-by-check:
File taxes-check. (I did it online last weekend and now await my modest returns.)
Visit doctor- check.
Poetry workshop- check.
History presentation- check.
Student conferences- check (19 times).
Grade papers- check (countless times).
Apply for summer job- Check (after doing the 20 necessary sub-checks).
Find new roomie- check.

But I made it through. The most important items all got checked off (although the "Grade paper" entry has a few more "countless checks" to go). It felt good to get so much done, but there's still so much left to do! Yesterday's mishap didn't help.

When I went to the doctor, nothing serious was wrong, but he did give me a prescription. Yesterday, my nose was really stuffy, so I called the Wal-mart pharmacy to make sure it was safe to take Benadryl with my prescription.

Wal-mart parmacist: Sure you can take it. Benadryl is just an antihistamine.
Me: Cool! Oh, if I get a back spasm, is it safe for my to take my [extremely low dose of] diazepam?
Wal-mart parmacist: Hmm...you should talk to your doctor before you do that. But Benadryl can actually serve as a muscle relaxer.

What I thought: Cool! Benadryl is safe, will clear my sinuses and will relax my muscles.

What I should have thought: 'Benadryl is safe with your prescription, muscle relaxers aren't. P.S. Benadryl is a muscle relaxer.' This suggests a logic problem. Perhaps I should not trust this woman with my health.

Okay, it crossed my mind, but I thought I was being paranoid. I took the Benadryl and woke up many hours later. Coincidence? Maybe, but as I'm not normally a napper, I have my suspicions. Was the Wal-mart parmacist trying to kill me? What if I'd been driving, pharmacy lady? What about that?

Heh. I basically lost my Saturday to a Benadryl coma and the ensuing grogginess. I had things to do yesterday! Oh, well. At least I'm well-rested.

In other news: Thursday, Nikita came by to check out the apartment. She'll be a senior next year, majoring in Spanish. She seems considerate, and she brought her mom. I like that, because now I've seen the source of her rent money. I think her mom has slight delusions of me being a surrogate mommy to Nikita. She asked who cooks, and Rakel announced that I do. "So, do you all share food, then?" I told her, "Only on special occassions."

Listen, I'll make Thanksgiving dinner if everone pitches in some cash. I'll give roomies some cookies from my latest batch. But I've got too much on my plate to become the cook. Not happening. I know some people who run their apartments that way--more like families. Sometimes I'm jealous of their closeness...but I've tried food-sharing roomie-situations in the past. In college, despite being great friends, when sharing food we ended up arguing over triffling nonsense like name brand vs. generic peanut butter. Now I just share food when the mood strikes me. It's fun when there's no pressure or expectation.

Anyway, I'm thrilled I found Nikita. She was the first person to answer the ad. The summer before I moved here brought a deluge of desperate prospective roomies for me to sort through, and I was dreading a repeat performance. Could I have stalled looking for a new best friend to place in the room? Yes, but I could have lost Nikita in the meantime, and ended up with someone less suitable.

Summer update: Last week the school counsellor suggested I apply for the summer English Adjunct position at a local community college. It would be PERFECT for me, so I did. It's a long shot, since I submitted pretty late in their application process, but all I can do is try. It was hard work tracking down references and transcripts from all my universities, but I did so at dizzying speeds. If I get the job, I'll stay here until August. If I don't, I'll probably be back in Iowa as early as June. Although I'd love to come home sooner, this position would look great on my resume, I'd enjoy the work, and it would probably pay better that most other summer jobs I could find. We'll see.

Well, now that I'm wide awake again, there's a new week of tasks to accomplish. I'm off to try. Congratulations to us all on the return of Spring.