Storytelling with sand

The video below is one of the most moving pieces of performance art I've ever seen. I saw this before I went to work this morning--a big mistake, because it ruined my makeup. At the end, I gave a big sigh, wiped away my tears, and smiled, shaking my head at how one young Ukrainian woman could evoke such emotion with sand.



It's set during 1945. You'll understand.

Guest blogging at Embrace the Shadows

I will be guest blogging tomorrow 9/25 at Embrace the Shadows: http://embracetheshadows.wordpress.com.

Come visit!

My husband's dream of art

Last night the hubby and I were discussing the church band and the music program in general there, and how lucky we were to have such an open and creative music program that encouraged people and kids to explore their musical abilities. The music director, Brian, has a true gift for encouraging kid's musical leanings and developing them into true talent. John, my hubby, is the "sound guy"--the one who hooks up and monitors the sound levels and quality of the singers and musicians. He feels like working the sound board is like playing an instrument. I sat there, thinking it over, and said, "what kind of instrument is it?" Because, after all, a sound board doesn't make any sound. It modifies other people's sound, but it doesn't have a sound of its own. John shook his head, thinking about it, but it was late then, and we went to bed.

The next morning, I went to the kitchen, and there on my place at the kitchen table was a piece of paper, with John's handwriting on it. It said:

"Art is commentary on our existance as incarnate beings." And,

"An instrument is any tool of artistic expression."

I nodded--it made sense--and folded up the piece of paper and stuck it in my pocket to take with me to work, so that I could think about it for a while. However, this idea seemed to seize John with a vengeance, and around noon, I got an e-mail about his thoughts on it all. Later he elaborated on it...well, I'll just let him say it in his own words:

Last night, over dinner, Karen and I were talking about how blessed we were by the praise music and musicians at FWUMC. Being a sound guy, I said that, for me, running the sound system is like playing an instrument. She asked "what kind of instrument is it?" I thought about it, but could not really say. I was stumped.

"I went to bed, and had a dream. In the dream, I was in the sanctuary of our church. It was dark and quiet. Then, a voice said "In the beginning was the word." The dream progressed through the days of creation, first with lights in the heavens, then water and earth, and so on. Images of creation appeared on the walls and ceiling, with sounds of water and animals. It appeared as a staged event , like a play. On the sixth day, the lights came up to reveal the praise band. They stood and sat like statues, holding instruments, but expressionless, without life. God then breathed life into them. They came alive, and together with the congregation began to sing and celebrate.

"From this, I had two revelations. The first, that we are incarnate beings, who know of and act within creation through our bodies. That art, in its most general sense, is the expression of our contemplations about our condition as incarnate beings. That this invisible thing we call our selves would manipulate light, sound, words, images, anything at all, though our bodies as a contemplation of our condition as spirits embedded within creation. Sure, we do other things, like walking, loving, helping, and fighting. But art is unique.

The second was this: That, in the context of art, an instrument is any tool we use for artistic expression. The first instrument is our bodies, but our expression may involve other things as well. What is the difference between a sound system and the lens of a camera? Neither is the thing it manipulates, yet are they not the tools of an artist? Or what of a drum or piano that makes no sound without the sound system? Are they not musical instruments? Finally, consider the music director. While he or she may play an instrument or sing, are those their only instruments of artistic expression? On the contrary, every musician in the band is also their instrument."

I thought about this--it made so much sense. And then I e-mailed him back with my thoughts on it:

And in the end, just as the musicians are the music director's instrument, so are we God's instruments. As instruments of God, we express His contemplation of His condition as a supreme being.

From spirit, through creation, to spirit.

Attack of the Swine Flu Zombies

So, the news is that the swine flu cases climbed to 2200 this last week at Washington State University. Two weeks ago it was just five confirmed cases. Some people can't believe it rose that high that quickly. I have two things for them to consider:

1. H1N1 virus is highly contagious
2. It escalated during Greek Rush Week.

Anyone who has any kind of experience with Greek Week will understand what I'm talking about. It consists of fraternity and sorority applicants running from one fraternity or sorority house to another all week, mingling in dense crowds of students in a frenzied rush (hence, "rush week"), trying to network with as many people and Greek houses as possible.

Also, the university Food Services is entirely staffed by students. While there are strict sanitary requirements for the Food Services staff, they nevertheless come in contact with thousands of students every day. A person with the flu is often infectious before he or she shows symptoms. Therefore, easy transmission in a dense population, often by people who don't even know they have the flu--yet.

Of course, as soon as I heard the flu had appeared on campus, I sent a care package to the Alien Child, consisting of hand sanitizing gel, a thermometer, ibuprofen, Tylenol, herbal teas (Traditional Medicinal's Breathe Easy and Organic Echinacea), a bar of homemade soap, and a list of first-aid items all households should have and that he should buy immediately, which I'm pretty sure he does not have, as he is in his 20s and therefore thinks he is invincible. I also enclosed a pair of jeans and homemade kosher pickles, not that including these particular items will keep him from disease, but it can't hurt.

Even if he doesn't get swine flu, perhaps his roommates or his girlfriend might, so it may all come in handy anyway. Also, it's not as if he hasn't intervened in more-than-I-feel-comfortable-with medical emergencies already in the course of his college career, and he should be prepared with some kind of first-aid kit. If he's going to keep going to people's rescue, he needs to have items at hand with which to rescue them.

The Alien Child assures me--with that youthful I-am-immortal attitude--that he's fine, and it's not a big deal, and he has some friends who got that flu (tested and confirmed) and who were sick just three days, max. Besides, he's healthy, eating right, and having a lot of fun working out in his karate class. But, thanks for the jeans and the pickles.

The hubby of course caught the news on the Internet and let me know about this freakish escalation of disease while we were watching a horror movie (anime--I don't recall the name, but it featured robotic sorcerers with humongous cannon-like machine guns against what looked like deformed and disease-ridden demons) on TV. This is not the best time to talk about swine flu, because the inevitable comes to mind:

ATTACK OF THE SWINE FLU ZOMBIES!

"I'm picturing thousands of disease-ridden WSU students, stumbling their way to class, moaning and groaning in the way zombies do--" he said.

"Oh, please," I said, as the anime robot-sorcerer blasted away at a quivering jelly-like demon. But the image stuck, because hey, anime horror movies do have their effect.

"Derek and Amanda, the last surviving healthy humans fleeing for their lives--"

A movie poster started forming in my mind.

"I can see the movie poster already," said the hubby (did I ever mention we have been married long enough to read each others' minds?). "There they are, standing heroically atop College Hill, looking down on the ravaging hordes of zombie students clawing their way up, Derek with his nunchucks in hand, and--"

"Amanda with her submachine gun," I said, casting her into the "kick-ass gal with gun" role. "Ready to level the zombie populace in a last race toward survival."

"Yep, exactly."

We finished watching the anime horror flick, which had a strangely philosophical element to it, strange no doubt only to us, as we started watching it half way through.

"You think we should tell them we have featured them in a zombie movie poster?" I asked.

"Sure, why not?" the hubby said. "They're the heroes in the zombie movie poster. They can't object to that."

I will shortly supply a link to this blog post to my son. (Wicked grin.)

Put a little love in your heart

"Think of your fellow man
Lend him a helping hand
Put a little love in your heart....

And the world will be a better place..."

Enough of feeling down and despairing! It's time to get down and get to work!

I was reminded of this, when the old hippie flower-child song above (written by Jimmy Holiday, Randy Myers, and Jackie DeShannon) was played in church today, and I remember when I heard this as a kid back in 1969 on the morning radio before I went to school. My mom was a classical music fan, my dad was all jazz and big band sound, and had just a bit of suspicion about that weird hippie stuff, but they could totally get behind this song, because they believed in what it had to say down to their bones. My dad invited, every year, a couple of young sailors who were far away from home to our Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners, because he thought was terrible that young kids like that would not be with family during the holidays. And my mom--good heavens. I swear I have to make an appointment to see her these days because of her very full volunteer schedule (I will boast: she won Pierce County Volunteer of the Year award for 2000, and this year won the Outstanding Volunteer award).

So, when "Put a Little Love in Your Heart" came on the radio in 1969, my folks said we could listen to that kind of music all we wanted. There is everything right with having love in your heart and helping out people in need, whether here or abroad.

It's September now, and the summer heat is giving way to cold rain here in the Pacific North"wet." I love this time of year, when the leaves turn to red and gold, when fresh ripe apples are crisp and sweet in one's mouth, when curling up underneath a blanket with your loved ones is especially cuddly, and--of course---when the love of yarn turns to an orgy of fiber-addiction.

The great thing about this, however, is that if you have a great deal of yarn, or can't help adding to your stash, you can tell yourself that not only are you going to make your loved ones all warm and loving-cuddly with the products of your knitting (or crocheting) prowess, but you are going to spread that fiber-love to the world.

I once Tweeted that "I firmly believe that if everyone took time to knit, crochet, or do some kind of constructive hand craft, we would have World Peace." It was somewhat tongue-in-cheek, but I am proud to say that Lion Brand Yarns picked it up and re-tweeted it. :-D Still, tongue in cheek or not, I do think there is something to that idea.

I think of all the charity knitting, crocheting, and sewing that is done--making clothes and blankets for premie babies, hats for the homeless, Afghans for Afghans, for our soldiers, and to raise money for various other causes, both here and abroad--I have to think there is a lot of love going on there for others. What if our world leaders, while in the midst of diplomatic negotiations, decided to sit down and knit or crochet some item for the needy in their opponent's country? They'd have to get the measurement of each person they did the handiwork for, where they lived, what kind of weather they had so that you could make the outfit or blanket or whatever suitable for their climate. And you know, when you do that, when you measure out a piece of fabric, when you tailor what you make for a person, that person is no longer some vague demographic statistic, he or she has shape and form. That person becomes real

And when he or she gets that item of clothing, knowing where that piece of clothing comes from, there is less animosity toward the person or country from whence it came. It was made specially for that person, and in good will.

There is a little love in each person's heart, both from the giving and the receiving.

So, as we enter fall and look toward the winter, I'm gearing up to do a lot of knitting and spinning of yarn. One of the projects I'm thinking of taking up is to restart my Building an Orphanage in the Congo project on my Etsy site.

I am thinking, however, of also trying to find some charity that benefits rural people. I've been reading a lot about rural poverty and the stereotypes people have about it. The stereotype a typical poor rural person is some white guy with a gun and beat-up truck, a "hick." But the truth is, typical rural citizens are African Americans, Hispanic Americans, and Native Americans. The attitude we have about rural people is damaging, to say the least.

I won't go into the statics about that now. I want to do the Pollyanna thing instead, and that is to look around and see where there is need, then do something to help. I'm like a lot of middle class folks--I've got a job, and so does my husband, for now. I've got a mortgage and college loans to pay while sending a kid through college. But compared to a lot of people, that's tremendous abundance. I've got enough to pay for such luxuries as a TV and computer and...a sizable yarn stash.

It wouldn't hurt me at all to do something with that yarn stash to help those in need. And I bet I'll be joining legions of other hand-crafters doing the same thing. I know the folks at CTA (Clothing and Textile Advisors) are doing it. Then there's Afghans for Afghans, and Hats for the Homeless, and so many more. Want to find a local fiber arts charity? Try this link here.

Put a little love in your hearts, folks. Spread the fiber-arts love!