N's story or The Ugly Girl

About two years ago I had just started working on my Lord Circus dolls. We were up in Connecticut visiting family, and my niece, who was just five at the time, loved the dolls. I sat sewing at the sewing machine one afternoon, and behind me I heard this story unfold:

Once upon a time, there were three beautiful girls.

They told the ugly girl she had to go away.

The beautiful girls were in love with the boy.

 The End

That is where the story ended, but I always wondered who the boy was looking at . . .

 . . .

: )

Does Anyone Remember This . . .

I loved this book when I was a child! First of all, I love the doll herself. I think she is beautiful. And I am totally amazed at how she has the same expression at all times, it's painted on, but for some reason she evokes a different emotion in each photograph or scene. I wonder if it is because it's such a hunting expression to begin with. That is to say, it is an expression with a lot of feeling behind it, and the scene gives meaning to the ambiguous expression.

 

She is also a beautifully shaped doll. I think this makes her poses believable and something we can "live in to" quite easily.

I think the black and white photos give the whole thing a quiet and melancholy feeling. Apparently the story is based somewhat on Wright's life. She had a pretty neglected childhood.

                               I like that even though she is naughty,

                                                  
                                         and gets punished,

            
                                         They are still friends in the end.

Puppet Show

I thought this was hilarious. I love the combination of puppetry and real person. It is a clip from a slightly longer movie by Johannes Nyholm. The full video can be seen on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/nyholmfanpage

Enjoy!

Braiding

by Li-Young Lee

1.
We two sit on our bed,
you between my legs, your back to me, your head
slightly bowed, that I may brush and braid
your hair. My father
did this for my mother,
just as I do for you. One hand
holds the hem of your hair, the other
works the brush. Both hands climb
as the strokes grow
longer, until I use not only my wrists,
but my arms, then my shoulders, my whole body
rocking in a rower's rhythm, a lover's
even time, as the tangles are undone,
and brush and bare hand run the thick,
fluent length of your hair, whose wintery scent
comes, a faint, human musk.

2.
Last night the room was so cold
I dreamed we were in Pittsburgh again, where winter
persisted and we fell asleep in the last seat
of the 71 Negley, dark mornings going to work.
How I wish we didn't hate those years
while we lived them.
Those were days of books,
days of silences stacked high
as the ceiling of that great, dim hall
where we studied. I remember
the thick oak tabletops, how cool
they felt against my face
when I lay my head down and slept.

3.
How long your hair has grown.
Gradually, December.

4.
There will come a day
one of us will have to imagine this: you
after your bath, cross legged on the bed, sleepy, patient
while I braid your hair.

5.
Here, what's made, these braids, unmakes
itself in time, and must be made
again, within and against
time. So I braid
your hair each day.
My fingers gather, measure hair,
hook, pull and twist hair and hair.
Deft, quick they plait,
weave articulate lock and lock, to make
and make these braids, which point
the direction of my going, of all our continuous going.
And though whats made does not abide,
my making is steadfast, and, beside, there is a making
of which this making-in-time is just a part,
a making which abides
beyond the hands which rise in the combing,
the hands which fall in the braiding,
trailing hair in each stage of its unbraiding.

6.
Love, how the hours accumulate. Uncountable.
The trees grow tall, some people walk away
and diminish forever.
The damp pewter days slip around without warning
and we cross over one year and one year.


***

I love this poem. I love how reading it actually feels like braiding hair. I have always found verse 4 peculiar because of its similarity to verse 1. In verse 1 the speaker describes a scene that in verse 4 he says we have to imagine as though it didn't already happen in verse 1. But it dawned on me that verse 4 repeats verse 1 in the same way that braiding strokes repeat each other. There is also a "coming 'round again" feel to these two verses that reminds me of how each bunch of hair in a braid wraps around the other two and disappears behind, before showing up on the other side. I also want to point out a part from verse 5 because it sounds so cool, and the rhythm is really reminiscent of braiding,

So I braid
your hair each day.
My fingers gather, measure hair,
hook, pull and twist hair and hair.
Deft, quick they plait,
weave articulate lock and lock, to make
and make these braids

I love how I get the feel of braiding from the very structure of the poem.


Verse 5 is my favorite, and I think the most pertinent to my question.

And though whats made does not abide,
my making is steadfast, and, beside, there is a making
of which this making-in-time is just a part,
a making which abides
beyond the hands which rise in the combing,
the hands which fall in the braiding,
trailing hair in each stage of its unbraiding.

I am mostly struck by the lines, "There is a making of which this making in time is just a part. . ." So, our making seems to be a part of a larger, more permanent creation. I suppose the speaker could just mean that the braiding is one of the activities that builds the relationship being described. But a relationship exists in time, just like braiding does. So, if the braiding and the relationship are of the same kind, because they both exist in time, then they are both "part" of the "making which abides". And this "making which abides" seems to be something more eternal than anything made in time. At least that is how I am understanding "abides". I am so intrigued by the idea that our making is a part of another kind of making; a making that exist beyond the lifetime of our materials, and beyond the short time in which we are busy making. I wonder if the abiding creation is an echo or record of what we have made, or if our creation is a childish rendition of something more pure and archetypal. I don't have an answer yet.

I also wanted to just muse a bit on the speaker's "steadfast" braiding. There seems to be something important about repeatedly re-making something even though there is an abiding aspect to our creations. Maybe it is just important to us, because it is the aspect we can see.

I wonder which is more real, the aspect that abides or the aspect we can see.

A New Begining.

The past year, in which I have been absent in this space, but wondering and making elsewhere, has added another dimension to the questions that started this blog. In trying to define my purpose elsewhere, I realized that I never really defined my question. I guess it goes something like this:

Are we acting in God's image when we make things?

Is it worthwhile and GOOD to make things? If we are created beings, why is it that we want to make things ourselves? Do we participate in divinity when we create? Are we remembering a hidden part of ourselves when we rearrange the matter we have been given to make something that has never been seen before? Are the things we make sort of permanent in the eternal hereafter, even though the earthly representatives disintegrate after a short time?

I imagine that there are lengthy philosophical answers to these questions, and while I am interested in those answers, I am also interested in the artistic expression of these questions that I have encountered along the way. I hope to continue collecting stories and experiences that address these questions, and to mull them over as I make my own creations.

Winter Mice

Once upon a time, there was a family of mice: Father mouse, Mother mouse, Sister mouse and Brother mouse.


They lived in a chink in the wall between a garden and a field. All through the spring, the summer and the fall they were happy to live there. If ever they were hungry they could easily go into the garden to see what the gardener had left behind, or into the field to see what the farmer had left behind. All through the spring, the summer and the fall they were happy and cozy in their house in the wall.

But soon the winter came, bringing snow and sleet and hail.


The little mouse family shivered in their house in the chink in the garden wall. Mother mouse said: "this house is too cold for us to stay in all winter. We must find a new house".

So Father mouse crept out of their chink in the wall, and went across the garden to find a new house.


Before long Father mouse found another wall.


This wall had a chink as well, and when he climbed through, he found himself in a warm and cozy kitchen. There, in the kitchen, was a basket of old rags, and Father mouse thought to himself, "this will be a very fine house for our family. It will keep us cozy and warm all through the winter".


So, father mouse went back out into the garden, and back to their house in the garden wall. He told his family what he had found. They packed up everything they thought they might need, and traveled across the garden to the kitchen wall.

They climbed through the chink, into the kitchen and right into the cozy basket of rags. There they began to arrange their new house.


It so happened that the kitchen belonged to a baker, and before long the baker came in and decided to make some cinnamon raisin bread.


First he got out his mixing bowl. Then the baker took the canister of flour and began to shake, shake, shake that flour into the mixing bowl; and the flour began to fly all over the kitchen.
Mother mouse peeped out of their new house and cried, "oh, no! It is beginning to snow!"


Father mouse looked out of their new house and said, "it doesn't look like snow. . . "
Brother mouse poked his nose out of the house and said, "it doesn't smell like snow . . ."
Sister mouse, who was very brave, took a little taste and said, "it doesn't taste like snow, in fact, it tastes like flour!"
"Oh, how clever am I!" Said Father mouse. "I have found us a cozy home where, when it snows, it snows flour!" And they all went back to arranging their new house.

Next the baker began to add the cinnamon to the bread. He took the canister and began to shake, shake, shake that cinnamon into the bowl, and the cinnamon began to fly all over the kitchen.
Mother mouse peeped out of their new house and cried, "oh, no! It is beginning to sleet!"

Father mouse looked out of their new house and said, "it doesn't look like sleet. . . "
Brother mouse poked his nose out of the house and said, "it doesn't smell like sleet . . ."
Sister mouse, who was very brave, took a little taste and said, "it doesn't taste like sleet, in fact, it tastes like cinnamon!"
"Oh, how clever am I!" Said Father mouse. "I have found us a cozy home where, when it snows, it snows flour! And when it sleets, it sleets cinnamon!" And they all went back to arranging their new house.

Finally, the baker began to add the raisins to the bread. He took the canister and began to shake, shake, shake those raisins into the bowl, and the raisins began to fly all over the kitchen.


Mother mouse peeped out of their new house and cried, "oh, no! It is beginning to hail!"
Father mouse looked out of their new house and said, "it doesn't look like hail. . . "
Brother mouse poked his nose out of the house and said, "it doesn't smell like hail . . ."
Sister mouse, who was very brave, took a little taste and said, "it doesn't taste like hail, in fact, it tastes like raisins!"


"Oh, how clever am I!" Said Father mouse. "I have found us a cozy home where, when it snows, it snows flour, when it sleets, it sleets cinnamon, and when it hails, it hails raisins! We will be very cozy here!" And indeed they were. They all went back to arranging their new house, and if things have not changed, they are living there to this day.

Garlands of Grace {Blog}: First Post!

Dear All,

here is a small home-based company that I have admired for over a year now, and I am happy to (spontaneously!) share with you their new blog! They make beautiful head coverings and veils. Enjoy!


Garlands of Grace {Blog}: First Post!: "This is our first post here on our Garlands of Grace Blog, hopefully many more to come! A few pictures to show how the day has started for t..."