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October 26, 2006
Into The Heart Of A People
It’s hard to put a finger on it. I am a white girl from up north, as if skin color can be so defined.... sure, I know my linage. My Father’s Grandfather and Grandmother had German accents. She was kind, but he was definitely another matter. I remember my mother saying that he didn’t like children much. No one really needed to tell us kids ( me and my two sisters and our two cousins ). We knew there was something scary about him, although today, I don’t know any more about him than I did then.
My Father’s Mother, my sweet Grandmother, is my fondest memory. She gave love without any conditions, and was there for us when we needed her most. Her parents may have been from the old country, but I never met them and she really didn’t say. I know that my Grandmother spoke German as a child, as all children did in this American city during this time period... the late 1800’s. This was Cincinnati, where I also grew up.
My Mother’s side is a different matter. I believe her family went back quite far in this country, and most of this is also a mystery to me. Her mother’s maiden name was French, and her Father’s name was English. They had all been here for a while, being from the south... more specifically, Virginia. My Mother grew up a few miles from where the civil war ended. As a child, I remember some of our vacations were trips to Richmond and Petersburg to visit my Mother’s family. We often went to old battlefields and found civil war bullets! I guess this dates me, just a bit.
Now, as for my clear interest today, it is like a whole set of different ancestors are speaking to me.
I attended a Literary Ofrenda last night. I am guessing there were probably 50 or 60 people with kids running around. The poetry spoke to the issues of the being Chicano/Chicana. All who attended were certainly Latino/Latina, except for me and one or two others.
I sat there, hearing the words, with watery eyes, feeling so completely in sync...like being home. I probably didn’t look like I belonged, but no one made me feel this way.
I could never know or even pretend to know what it is to be of this origin. However, something is beyond just an interest or concern. Some say to me, “ Well, it must be a past life”. I tend to agree, and we all smile.
My skin is still what it is. I was born into this body and into this lifetime for some perfect reason... as is true for all of us. Somehow, in my heart of hearts, the native People of this land have a strong pull upon my strings. My first real trip to Mexico nearly 7 years ago spoke volumes to this issue. I fell in love with a People, and the affair continues with such a conviction.
My art is on the receiving end of this affair. I know many are puzzled about what is coming through my hands to the canvas or wood. I have been asked by some, if and when will I be doing something different? This question always makes me turn sideways, simply because I think it is different, all along. The subject matter only confirms itself anew, again and again, and the presentation changes as I grow. It feels like a fine tuning of something I am meant to do.
I feel one viewing my work will see these People in a new light... perhaps a new, loving light. This is when it feels more like a message coming through me... a sort of guidance that comes with a gift I have been given.
I am sure this ‘white girl’ will continue doing what she loves, and yes, this is my passion, and more profoundly, probably why I am an artist.
Posted by kay at October 26, 2006 09:43 AM