Influences
{Detail of “Rebus” by Robert Rauschenberg}
Although I do not remember the exact date, or where I was, I do remember how I felt when I found out Robert Rauschenberg died. I was stunned ~ not so much that he died, but that he died before I had a chance to meet him. After seeing an exhibit of his Combines at the Los Angeles Museum of Contemporary Art about five years ago and experiencing the profound creative shift that resulted from that experience, I got it in my head that I would meet him. I knew he lived in Florida, and so assumed there would be a time when I would simply hop on a plane, take a taxi to his home, knock on his door, and have the opportunity to tell him he changed my life.
The closest I got to that was in New York City, when I visited the Guggenheim and stumbled upon a small exhibit of photographs of him soon after his death. In the space there was a huge bulletin board where visitors could write messages or thoughts about Rauschenberg. On a small piece of paper, I drew a picture of my Girl and a note telling him how grateful I was for his work, his vision, and his inspiration. Of course I couldn’t know for certain if he would receive that tiny morsel of gratitude on some kind of invisible wavelength, but I wrote it just the same, and still whisper a quiet thank you now and then, never wanting to take for granted all he gave to me and the world.
We have family staying with us, which includes three amazing kids, ages 7, 9, and 11. Our dining room has been transformed into an art studio, and each of us is in the process of creating a book. As each book has come to life, any time their creations have reminded me of another artist’s work, we head to the computer (or my bookshelf) and I show them the work of that artist. I admire the splattered colors in one book and show the kids a photo of Jackson Pollock working in his studio; a discussion of the elasticity of acrylic paints sends me upstairs to grab a book on Beatriz Milhazes, and at breakfast we pore over every page.
I can never resist the opportunity to pull out the book from Rauschenberg’s Combines exhibit, so it is sitting on our kitchen table as I type this, another one of the books I’ve brought down to share with my family. Over coffee this morning, before anyone else was awake and requesting Cookie Crisp and Eggo waffles, I went through half the book. While admiring the work that changed my life, I experienced a strange combination of awe and sadness. Awe over his work, his freedom, and his willingness to try just about anything, and sadness over the notion that I might never have the opportunity to go as far as I would like to with my art.
When I observed that feeling, part of me immediately wanted to shut off that valve, judging it as bad, thinking that if I dared to feel any sense of loss for what I might not be able to do with my work it would mean I was ungrateful for all the opportunities I have had ~ and continue to have ~ to be an artist and a writer.
But then I paused, and decided to sit still with it and open myself up to the possibility that there could be room for both feelings ~ that I can feel immensely grateful for everything I am able to do with my work and also sad for what simply isn’t possible right now (and perhaps never will be.) With a husband, a close-knit family, a home, a puppy, and all the details the accompany those blessings, there is only so much time for me to do my own work. (Although even if I lived a solitary life free of any obligations other than my own creative whims, time would still not be limitless.)
I think about this fairly often, because a lot of time I long for more time, and I always come to the same conclusion ~ that it is a gift to want so much from life, to know how much is possible, how much there is to do, and how many ways there are to create beauty and magic and joy. I might not have the time (or space) right now to build the magnificent constructions Rauschenberg inspires me to create, but I have inspired three amazing kids to create something they are proud of. I get to enjoy their company this week, and experience their incredible sense of humor, kindness, and life. So in my own quiet way, I can once again say thank you to Mr. Rauschenberg, for reminding me of the importance of creating whatever I can, and doing whatever is possible for me to do, because influence and inspiration have a way of traveling farther and wider than we ever imagine.
{Don’t forget ~ January is the Month of Give Aways! Every day a new Give Away, starting 1/1/11.}
Words
{Taken in Big Sur last month.}
There is so much I want to write about ~ so many thoughts and ideas I want to dig through, pull apart, and sift through my fingers. I am reading a stack of books, writing in two journals, and practicing patience, for the holidays aren’t yet over around here, and it will be a while before I have blocks of quiet time all to myself to write. But that is entirely OK, because I feel myself sinking into all the moments of my days more deeply than ever before. (Hint: Time not spent trying to maintain too many online connections = Time spent nurturing genuine communion with those sitting at my table.)
The words will have their moment, the stories now sitting idly in my mind shall have their day in the sun. This I know, and I carry this Truth with me everywhere, the knowledge of all the words that will soon have the opportunity to flow out of me like sunlight through the clouds.
It’s Time for a Christmas Tune
How about a little holiday sing-along? Gather everyone around your computer screen and try out these lyrics to the tune of Silver Bells:
Little paw prints, puppy paw prints
Tracking mud in our house
In the air
There’s an odor
Of dog poo.
Puppy barking, puppy whining
Wanting treat after treat
After tearing your sweater to shreds…
Tilda Bear, Tilda Bear
It’s cocktail time for her mommy.
Tilda Bear, Tilda Bear
When can I call it a day?
Bags of dog food, and the dog treats
Plus the five thousand toys
Which she loves less than cardboard and tube socks.
Hear the burping, and the slurping
Wipe the puddles of pee
And at dawn every morning you’re up…
Tilda Bear, Tilda Bear
It’s cocktail time for her mommy.
Tilda Bear, Tilda Bear
When can I call it a day?
Merry Merry
A few Christmas Eve Eve blurbs ~ my latest feature is up over at Gypsy Girl’s Guide, and I just received my copy of the upcoming issue of Somerset Studio, which has the first essay for my Across the Globe column. The story shares my experience learning about the Bani Hamida Weaving Project on a journey to Jordan this past March, and it has loads of gorgeous photographs by yours truly and the immensely talented Tara Bradford.
I have been enjoying this month’s daily posts over at for the love of sashi, especially this entry. Wishing everyone a wonderful, peaceful weekend with loads of laughter and maybe even some joy-full tears. Merry Merry!
Somerset Studio January 2011
Somerset Studio January/February 2011
The first essay for Christine’s new column for Somerset Studio ~ Across the Globe. This features snippets from her experience learning about the Bani Hamida Weaving Project on a journey to Jordan in 2010.
Toast and Snow
Toast and Snow
While I battled jetlag and three time zones and the untidy
fumblings of the heart, a snow dusted my mother’s driveway,
the back roads of this bucolic town, and I awoke, groggy
and distracted, to an electric whiteness under a clear December sky.
Then: two slices of wheat toast, a glass of orange juice, coffee
cream-and-sugared, and now I’m on the couch, trying, calmly,
to remind myself that it is impossible to keep everyone happy.
Things will splinter and break no matter how much patchwork I apply.
The best intentions will unravel and tatter in the blink of an eye,
and love will not heal everything it touches, or carry it to safety.
Manifesto
[Illustration by Rama Hughes]
I’m not kidding ~ reading Rama Hughes’s essay on art and education made me weepy.
100 Books Project :: Minnesota
[Book #89 was taken care of by Book Fairy Pam Welter in Chaska, Minnesota, and her story is below. Thank you Pam!!]
Hi Christine,
I had so much fun being a Book Fairy! I imagined myself with wings flitting about and looking for a spot to leave this book that would add a sparkle to someone’s day.
The words at the beginning of your book “…in an open place with light and air” guided me to choose the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum as my location. It is where I searched for your book before I found out there was not a Minnesota Book Fairy yet and I would be the lucky person to have that job! The gardens and forests of the Arboretum are enchanting.
I made the book drop on a festive fall day. There was a book sale going on inside – 22,000 books had been donated and lots of book lovers were on the premises. There were whimsical Scarecrows on Parade as well as a Pumpkin Palooza. Leaves were golden and fluttering to the ground. A perfect atmosphere!
A scarecrow named STARZ with a glittering outfit and a giant star wand caught my fairy eyes. Next to her was a bench lined with pumpkin gourds. I knew this was the magical place to leave your gift.
I placed the package on the bench and went into the gift shop. About 40 minutes later, it had been taken. I thought I saw STARZ shining even brighter!
Mission accomplished and stardust wishes for whoever found it!
Blessings to you, Christine, for your gracious spirit. You are a shining star!
~Pamela Welter
Study
Thanksgiving day this year had me in the first days of my sinus infection ~ still feeling fairly crappy but on the mend enough that I was able to join my family for afternoon preparations and our evening dinner. A dear family friend was with us for the celebration ~ a friend of my husband’s since he was a teenager ~ someone with whom we had recently experienced one of those unexplainable disconnects that sometimes occurs between friends. We started to find our way back into each other’s lives ~ he and my husband especially ~ this summer, and we considered one of our greatest blessings of Thanksgiving to have him at our table.
I first met this man in 2001, before my husband and I were even dating, when I was on the verge of a hefty helping of pain, drama, transition, and ultimately positive transformation. During this entire time, whenever I’ve needed a role model for someone deeply committed to his spiritual practice, I’ve thought of him. There is a thoughtful, quiet calm to this man that exists alongside a passion for unbridled exploration, both inward and outward. He probably doesn’t know how much of an influence he has had on me ~ perhaps I need to tell him more often.
On Thanksgiving day ~ as the turkey was cooking, the potatoes were mashed, and I sat on a barstool trying to stay engaged and somewhat coherent, I overhead a discussion he was having about his day-to-day schedule. Although I was spaced out and not even part of that conversation, it was one tiny excerpt of it that made the deepest impression on me that day ~ the moment he explained that the first two hours of his day were spent studying.
Studying.
It is that word, and that conversation, that has stayed with me since ~ a word that used to conjure up images of five pound biology books, all-night cram sessions, and microwave popcorn. As an adult who is now free to engage in any study-related activities or not, those images have now transformed into a scenario of quiet, focused time spent learning about and contemplating this magnificent mystery called life. It is so perfect and simple: Studying.
It could easily be argued that I am already this kind of student, most especially since my divorce and the ensuing publication of Ordinary Sparkling Moments. It could be said that this very blog has been a space where I share what I have learned (or am trying to figure out) about this world and my place in it. But in that word, and in our friend’s daily, self-directed devotion to the study of philosophy, spirituality, and his craft (he is an architect), I found the space I had been seeking to go even deeper into my own explorations of what it means to be human, and how to continue to nurture my relationship with the world, the universe, God, and even my own family.
I had a blissfully wide open afternoon yesterday, and I spent it this way: I studied. I read, I wrote, and I thought. I listened to the rain, and I sat still with a problem that has been with me for years, sinking even more deeply into all the ways its solution is still so much of a mystery to me ~ accepting that even though I have tried to approach it, look at it, and manage it from countless different angles, I am nowhere closer to its resolution. I just sat with it, and with the help of words written by Brene Brown, John O’Donohue, and Pema Chodron, I found a tiny window. Not a solution necessarily, but perhaps ~ at the very least ~ a way to move the process forward.
I am not going to make any kind of new year’s resolution that has me committed to two hours of study every morning, but I have made a commitment to myself to begin integrating focused study into my life. It might only happen on Sunday afternoons, it could become a twenty-minutes a day ritual. At this point I don’t need it to look like anything in particular in terms of scheduling; all I need is to be mindful of my intention, and pluck those open pockets of time ~ no matter how small ~ out of my days in order to deepen my spiritual and philosophical practice. Life is difficult, and full of uncertainty, and this study is so that I might build stronger guideposts and construct a more accurate compass for how to make my way through all of it with grace, integrity, and calm.
To my friend, and his endless inspiration: Thank you for being my teacher.
100 Books Project :: Colorado Springs
[Book #88, left by Book Fairy Sharon Gunn McMahon in Colorado Springs.]
The lovely Sharon Gunn McMahon had this to share about her journey with Book #88:
Part One ~
Hi Christine!
I have been so excited about getting to be a Book Fairy, and I love the cards you sent with the book, too! Thank you!!
I placed the book in my most inspiring location,then went on a family picnic.
After two hours it was starting to rain, so my daughter and I checked on it and it was still there, so we saved it from the rain. Someone had peeked inside the paper, but then left it.
SOOooo – I am waiting for another brilliant stroke of inspiration on where to leave it more successfully… Thank you for letting me be a part of this project!
Part Two ~
So – after much soul searching and locale-exploring I was at the library. They had a lovely art show going on in the gallery. I enjoyed the art and then was struck by a sudden urge – a feeling that this was the place to leave the 88th book from the 100 Books Project.
I set the book on a bench, took a couple of pictures, and left hoping and praying that the “right person” would be along shortly. Hopefully we will hear something soon!
Thank you Sharon! I imagine the book found a place in someone’s home pretty quickly!
