Puddle Pails and Collections

There is something about collections that has always drawn me to pick up certain objects or be drawn to specific entities.  Recently the phenomena of collecting has begun to come together for me,
with depth of meaning. 

Children's books are one of my favorite things in the world, and one of my favorite children's book author/illustrators is Elisa Kleven.  Her books are brightly illustrated, with drawings full of life and activity.  Her stories are full of fun, imagination, and creativity. 

My children enjoy the worlds we visit when we read Elisa Kleven books, and The Puddle Pail (pictured right) is one of our favorites.  It is about Ernst and his brother Sol, an avid collector of various items.  Sol urges Ernst to start a collection, and Ernst suggests collecting clouds.  I just love it.  Eventually Ernst decides to collect puddles in a pail.  He enjoys the reflections that he has seen in them!  Ernst paints pictures of the puddles he originally collected, and Sol is proud of his little brother.  The next day, on their way to collect blackberries for breakfast, Ernst wants to collect shadows.

A recent quote I connected with by Louise Nevelson comes to mind: "The shadow is as important as the object," and I think of how well I connect with Ernst's character:  He's just like me. 
He sees the importance in things that are fleeting. 

He wants to capture the intangible.  



I have begun to pull some of my tangible collections out from their hiding spaces, and place them on the counter above my kitchen sink.  These are rocks and shells that have come into my possession over the years, either found, given or purchased. 

To touch them, arrange and rearrange them, and look at them while I do dishes brings me joy, makes me think.  I remember how I felt first touching the smoothed gray stone, with all its bumps, and knowing it was an item I had to keep.  The shells bring me back to the ocean, the sand on the beach, and all the wonder and peace attached to seashore memories.

 

We hold these pieces of the world in our hands,

and we are transported to worlds beyond where we stand.

Another quote by one of my all-time favorite artists,

the one and only Louise Nevelson:

"The wonder of collecting is that you are constantly in training

to look for that added dimension that you identify with."

It is exciting to collect things. 
It adds fun to life, opens the eyes

a little wider, and urges the mind to be alert.

From Puddle Pails to rocks and shells,

there is an art to collecting.

Do you collect things?  What do your collections mean to you?

Local Art Inspires Me: Michael Hartnett

In my Freedom Journal, I have dedicated some pages to local artists whose work inspires me.  There is this wonderful publication that can be found for free at various locations in the area.  Whenever I see one, I take it.  I am always enriched by the words and art that reflect the heartbeat of creativity that exists around here. 

There is one artist in particular whose work is included in practically every issue that I have gotten my hands on in the past couple of years.  I have used clippings of his artwork in collages of mine, and the page pictured above uses words and images from an article about him, in which he is directly quoted about his experience with and feelings about his art. 

"Creativity is freedom, the ability to look over the horizon

and see worlds yet unborn, then to bring them into view..."

"...For aren't joy and freedom the engines of hope?"

"...I dedicate my life's work to the freedom so dearly sought

in the hearts of family, friends and all the good people I know."

"The redemptive spirit of art heals the soul

and becomes the harbinger of things to come

for our culture, for the way we live and how we live."

"...I create to serve this opening

and to give voice to the qualities

innate to being human."

It is inspiring to find local artists who live in this region, nearby enough where their studios can be visited, artwork can be seen in local galleries, and the opportunity exists to meet them. 

I hope you are able to discover inspiration wherever you are, too.

Palm Open

What do I have to offer, really?

My hands -

they hold nothing.

Palm open

empty

an invisible flame

burning within.

This is all I have to give:

feelings that have emerged

from what I’ve touched,

from what I’ve experienced,

from where I've been. 

Intangible -

nothing to show,

but words to write and

images to express 

life moments.

This is the beginning –

with no gift to bring,

 I’ll play my heart’s drum,

beat by beat

pulsating through fingers

typing on keys.

: Redemption Song :

The music of Bob Marley was a big part of my life for the large part of my teenage and young adult years.  Posters of Bob Marley and Jimi Hendrix covered the wall of my side of the dorm room during my first year of college.  Both musician's faces adorned the back window of my maroon Pontiac Grand Am, Tai, on decals. 

Yes, the spirit of Bob Marley's rhythm and lyrics was with me for many a day, and remains in my mind, words of songs popping up from time to time, when I most need them.  As Bob Marley himself sang, "One good thing about music, when it hits you, you feel no pain...  so hit me with music, hit me with music."

Redemption Song is the first song of freedom to be included in my Freedom Journal.  I printed the lyrics, cut them out, and collaged them onto a couple of pages.  They fit with the pictures of a large envelope decorated with buffalos and tepees, from an Indian school that used to mail us fund requests, years ago. 

Freedom and redemption are my current heart songs, for the depths of my soul, for all the broken pieces.  Paying tribute to Bob Marley for the work of his hands through his music, his songs, his words - all he offered to us in this world during his lifetime, impacting generations - brings me hope that I will sing songs of freedom, release myself from mental slavery, free my mind, and be redeemed, by the hand of the Almighty.

Freedom Journal

Some great ideas of what can be done

with a word-pursuit

were shared on a superb blog

that inspires me:  Messy Canvas.

Being an avid journaler

and art collager,

I immediately connected

with the idea of creating a journal

just for my word.

So here it is, a redeemed journal,

turned into a place

for FREEDOM.

This journal, I've had it for over a decade.

My aunt gave it to me as a gift,

and I'd written Bible verses in it

that I wanted to memorize

or create drawings to go with.

I was stunted by what I had

relegated as its purpose,

and left it unused for years...

I'm sorry, Zen Sketchbook journal,

it wasn't your fault...

But you're redeemed now,

for a new purpose,

for the pursuit of freedom,

and you're getting redecorated,

a facelift,

and I'm having fun filling your pages!

And I can't wait to show you

what some of these pages

are filled with!

I am From: Working

I am from busing and waiting on brown tables, from wiping down orange booths; from white, collared button-down shirts, stained and smelling like tomato sauce and pizza grease.  Yes, I am from Tony’s Brothers, intermittently for eight years; from Fran, and Lou, and Betty, from Lalo and Steve and Pete.

I am from filing papers at Relay Specialties, from looking over cubicles as I stood on a stool, from overhearing conversations, and from walking down “the path” to get there from high school.

I am from the homes of families, needing someone to watch their kids; from the moms who adopted, and the double-shift workers; the woman who beat cancer going on dates with her husband; from Vermont's beautiful, organic Claybrook Farm and the Bergen County mansion.

I am from Dairy Queen, concocting blizzards, topping sundaes and piling hot dogs with the works; from camp counseling, which I hated, and quit before I burst.

And I am from trying to sell Cutco, for two months, to no one but friends & family; I am from reading scripted messages, and from gaining cutlery. 

I am from a temp agency that sent me on a mission to select seating for and mail out Phish tickets; from placing the sparkly rectangular paper gems into envelopes, and mailing them out from a secret location.

I am from the Onion River Co-op, ringing up orders from the friendliest customers; from Hawaiian Biker Dude ginger and fresh samosas; from subtracting the tar and bagging the goods.

I am from YMCA daycare, caring for adorable toddler-sized babies for ½ the day.  I’m from riding my bike across Burlington to Hilltop Light; from working on administrative tasks for my church family.

I am from the Salvation Army, coordinating programs for the youth of Paterson.  From driving the big van down the streets of my youthful memories, and from gluing construction paper fruits.  I’m from driving back & forth to Camp Tecumseh, and from what I learned at the ARTS Evangelism Congress; from filling bags food pantry for the needy, and from singing Songbook hymns.

I am from LTN at LLS, from raising funds to find a cure for blood cancers, from a walk in which lights in balloons filled the darkness of night.  From working in a shared position, from stories of triumph & devastation; that's life.

All these pieces of my life, from where I’ve spent my time for gainful employment; they’ve enriched me with experience and stories; they’ve provided lasting memories in my mind.

Now I am from being home with our three children, husband working (more than) full-time.  I am from days that are fuller than ever; I am from enjoying my life.

~Sea Gulls~

"Sea Gull Collage"

(This picture is made up of many different pieces:

- the autumn leaves, taken from photographs of a local artist,

printed in a local journal-magazine.

- the lavender, pictures from an article I'd saved for years,

about lavender's healing, medicinal properties,

and the weathered farmer's hand, holding a bouquet.

- pieces of zebra fur pattern, from a magazine ad for a fashion company,

saved since I was a teenager.

- the seagulls flying over the ocean, a picture saved from a calendar.

- the flowers popping out of the grassy field,

and background trees; pictures saved for years, from a magazine.

- the waterfall, a magazine photograph from the

hot spring falls of Zarqa Ma'in, near the Dead Sea.

Patterns of nature, Creation

Pieces of the world in one fractalized picture.

Fringes places in layers,

making it all come together. 

Curved edges, to create flow,

the life flow of newness,

of water's ebb & flow.

And holes that create patterns

through which we can see.

The seagulls remind me of an all time favorite book of mine,

Jonathan Livingston Seagull, by Jonathan Bach

Some quotes from the story:

"You have the freedom to be yourself,

your true self, here and now,

and nothing can stand in your way."

"The only true law

is that which leads to freedom,"

Jonathan said.  "There is no other."

"The gull who sees farthest who flies highest."

While I'm collaging, I don't have a vision of

what the final piece is going to look like. 

I just grab the pictures that feel like the right ones

to be put together into one piece at the time,

and I cut, place and glue them on paper.   

The act of collaging is freeing,

and something within me receives healing

as I replace, rearrange, and piece back together.

Collage represents what is happening to my life

at this point in time, by the One who is leading. 

Through the act of this process,

I hear a Voice speaking to my heart, teaching. 

This piece, specifically, it's about freedom. 

Set your heart on being free, the Voice tells me,

and I breathe deep, and I follow.

A Word of Life comes to me,

stitching the pieces together:

 ^"So, my friends," Paul is writing,

"...when Christ died he took that entire
rule-dominated way of life down with him
and left it in the tomb, leaving you
free to "marry" a resurrection life...
But now that we're no longer shackled
to that domineering mate of sin,
and out from under all those oppressive
regulations and fine print,
we're free to live a new life in the
freedom of God."

I am grateful for this.

~Brianne

Freedom, My Word

Since I began reading blogs just over a year ago,
I discovered this idea

of choosing a word to pursue for the year.
This idea of year-naming,

I found it intriguing,

but wasn't sure if it was for me.

After all, I've resolved to make no more resolutions -

if I want to change something

or start something new,

then I'll just do it.

But there seemed to be something more to it,

and there seemed to be something

fun and adventure-ful about it,

and I felt this word, for certain,

calling me to pursue it.

I told myself, I don't have to pursue one word

for a year's worth of time;

I have the freedom to do as I please,

and I can choose a word for a period of time

that I deem necessary,

until I feel I've completely understood,

whatever was meant to be gained

by the word-pursuit.

This could be my word for now.

There, on a little street,

in a town where I go grocery shopping,

the word stood behind a window

of a storefront church building,

during my artist outing.

Can you imagine the excitement

and the enticement

from head to toe,

for this pursuit

of a word that represents

the deep longing

of my soul!?

The new year, after the Christmas season,

which is often a whirlwind of celebration

and bustling activity,

which is over too quickly

compared to all of the preparation...

it can be more than just a turning of a calendar,

the transfering of birthdays from one to another,

the new plans being made.

The new season can reflect the lasting,

after-effects of the end-of-the-year

celebration of Christmas

for all that it represents,

for the freedom and redemption

for the peace and the joy

that the birth of a Savior

has brought into the world...

For it was this window of a church

that presented this word and this image to me,

reminding me that there's more to life

than what my eyes see,

if I'll look further and follow

what's calling me.

To read more about my journey with Freedom this year, click here.

Here's to encouraging each other.

"Reminding one another of the dream

that each of us aspires to 

may be enough for us

to set each other free."

~Antoine de Saint-Exupery,

author of The Little Prince

Journal Redemption

These are the journals
I've been filling with words,
recollections, thoughts,
dreams, adventures,

for two decades worth of time,



writing has been redemption for me,

has given my life validity,

has provided record of memory.
Everwhere I turn, there's another one

appearing

to add to the collection
that has been building
through these years,

and they're all still here,



even that tiny one,

with Winnie the Pooh on it,

that was once lost in a farm field,

after a music festival of

autumn's harvest moon...

but after inquiring of the festival organizers,

the mini keepsake was found

with all of its words & images in it,

and returned to me via air mail.

As Sara Groves, one of my favorite artists,

sings melodically in her song Add to the Beauty,

"Redemption comes in strange places, small spaces
calling out the best of who we are."

So is this part of it, then,

the best of who I am,

I ask You?



Are these the spaces that contain

who You've created me to be?

Is that why they are still here with me

for a time such as this, now,

for a time of redeeming?

Words everywhere,

spilling out at me,

words I have written,

words I have found,

notes I have taken,

quotes I have held on to,

studies I have wanted to pursue,

images and poetry,
collages, adventures,

dreams, hopes, wishes,

prayers, and Bible verses,



Paper, the rain bucket,

on which I have caught them.

Computer screen,

the place now,

for redemption.

This is My Offering

Into the abyss, these words I will write.

Into the silence of this space, my life I will share.

I will bend over keys and my heart will pound

and You will be there with me.

Down this path, I will go,

as You lead me.

My own agenda, I leave behind, as I follow.

Teach me, lead me, guide me, use me, fill me, renew me...

This is my offering:

my life

my words

my images

for You.