Meander

 

Submission Today

 

I clicked submit on this today!  Hera Gallery in Wakefield has an upcoming show titled "Oh, Mother!" and I decided to send this.  It's probably too large for their space, 50"x46" but it's certainly on topic!

I posted the poem here quite some time ago.  "Songs for Orphaned Mothers."  Here it is again:

Songs for Orphaned Mothers

Josephine Carubia

 

            Song I

Do orphans make the best mothers or grandmothers?

Are they grateful for the scraps and just one solid man?

Do they raise loyal children who gather on Sunday

to eat their sustenance and witness their amazement?

Will they muscle nothing, no, less than nothing,

into a noisy, fragrant kitchen full of helping hands?

 

Does an orphan mother mourn?

Does she know the whole cloth of what she doesn’t know?

 

Where were you born?

When were you alone?

You came so far.

Did you find it here, what you lost?

Was it enough?

What is enough?

When is enough?

How is enough?

Who is enough?

Where is enough?

 

The map of you has few places marked.

Places called together and places called alone.

 

Does being mother cancel being orphan?

 

How many stitches to hold it all together, but never quite repair?

Is it good enough?

Or could it possibly be beautiful?

I am making this song for you and all orphan mothers.

 

 

            Song II

You were broken when they died, but the needs of others

            fused your bones into shapes and purposes.

Silent and hurt, you submit your dreams of home

to the required husband’s ambition.

Still a child, you bore a child with no mother of your own.

You fed the living children and the dead.

You hoarded scraps against the day of hardships beyond

            the dry charity of a suffering town.

The gabriel went over sea and under ground

            to return and leave, return and leave.

            Return.

Still, not much was something familiar on your tongue.

 

Broken again, in the dark, shaken, soiled and sick,

            holding only wisps of once familiar penury

            as beautiful memory.

Meanwhile huddled children caring for children iterate

            towards new trajectories invisible on the shifting dim horizon.

 

 

      Song III

You don’t smile toward the future—Why would you?

If you knew I was coming, would you smile?

 

Between that girl with a ribbon in her hair

And me, mistress of comfort and machines,

A century of burdens borne across vastness,

       punctuated by rare moments of ease, if not joy.

 

The photographer’s moment,

       a pause before the abyss.

You, however, persisted,

       stepping forward, despite the drag of events,

       toward this intersection of your hopes and my thanks.

 

A century passes.

A faded photo surfaces.

Lines intersect.

I recognize you.

Your hand held still and straight is my hand still.

Your wrist outgrowing its sleeve—

            your stance with weight on one foot—

Your face, the same and different.

All familiar; all family.

 

Girl!

One fancy dress over one heart.

            Beating.

 

I remember your words for a full belly in dialect.

I remember the heavy bucket of soapy water up and down

            the building hallways and stairs, and I remember the mop.

I remember you calling “Sal-lee” up the dark shaft window by the sink.

 

Do you recognize me?

This is my hand at the end of your arm.

 

 

            Song IV

This corner tells the story of that time you cried.

Here you climbed the hill just to find she was already gone.

This piece is for when you waited,

       and waited,

       and waited.

But here you saw a star streaking across the sky and thought

       it was a sign of future joy.

This rough patch speaks volumes about harsh voices always

leaning against you.

 

 

Song V

She is not who you think she is: a fat old woman in a faded dress

stepping from stove to sink to table on swollen ankles.

Once she was an orphan girl, an island girl, almost cinderella,

married at fifteen, but not living the dream.

Not beautiful, but determined.

Sometimes looking out the window to the others bustling on First Avenue.

Sometimes falling asleep in the kitchen.

 

From discarded pieces and bits, mingled with tears, blood, and love,

she generated hard-won wedges into uncertain futures:

FAMILY.

 

Two Quilts

 

I am in process of making three quilts for three upcoming high school graduates:  Dakota Palmer of Groton, MA, Teah Glorie of Montclair, NJ, and Givanni Kocharian Colapietro of CA.  One is finished, second one almost finished.  Third one in design stages.

Archaic

 

This is my sketch (7/15/22) of archaic cuneiform shapes (public domain) accessed on Wikipedia.  I am fascinated by languages and writing systems!  More to come!

Complete Book of Waiting

 

Now available on Amazon.com!  

https://www.amazon.com/Complete-Book-Waiting-Workbook-Twenty-First/dp/1958217069

If you know me, you know that I am always early.  

You will also know that I don't believe in boredom. 

I've been collecting strategies and stories of waiting for a long time, and finally, here it is!  

Please take a look and tell your friends!

I can't wait to hear what you think !!

Slow Stitching Book

 

The book says it all !!

ACGOW

 I submitted three pieces to the 2022 Regional Art Show of the Artists Cooperative Gallery of Westerly (ACGOW).  Just a day or two later I saw on their website that all three of my pieces were accepted into the show!  Yay!

The following day I received a phone call asking if I would be at the opening reception for the show on Friday evening.  I said that I had a busy day and was not certain I could attend.  The person on the other end encouraged me to be there, "You will be very happy that you come." 

 OK, what does this mean?  I knew that there would be prizes announced at the reception, but, well . . . maybe .. . did I win a prize?  We decided to attend the reception and I let a few friends know that we would be going.

When I saw the amazing art displayed in the ACGOW galleries, I was certain that the phone call was just to get a good crowd, not for me in particular.  It seemed to take forever to get to the program where prizes were announced, but finally . . .  OMG!  My name was called and I received The Katherine Forest Crafts Foundation Alice Clark Hubbard Award !!  And a little blue ribbon!  And a check!

The three pieces I have in the show are:

Cartographies of Perpetual Rejuvenation (CPR)

The Rubble and the Road

Material Meditation

You have seen two of the three in recent posts.  Here is the third one, Material Meditation.  And a photo of me with the award winning Cartographies of Perpetual Rejuvenation!!  The show is on for the rest of the month of May.