Touching as usual, Stephen. Thanks for sharing with us orphans ... Andrew
2009/2/25 Stephen Vincent <[log in to unmask]>
> It’s Sunday. I am in my mother’s home - in the ‘back room’ -
> listening to her voice over an audio-surveillance device. I Make a 'haptic'
> drawing during an intense rain while she talks non-stop - a kind of
> unconscious monologue - while falling into an afternoon nap:
>
>
> They took my book.
>
> They took my name.
>
> I did not like that at all.
> Help me.
>
> I want to be gone in the morning.
>
> I want to get home by night.
>
> Early night.
>
> Not dark night.
>
> When she wakes up, I show her the drawing
>
> We are sitting in the family room.
>
> It continues to rain hard. I point out the dots,
>
> the rhythm of the rain.
>
> “It’s beautiful,” she smiles, almost radiant. “Did you make that?”
>
> You would never know the anguished sound of her previous dream walk.
>
> “I made it while you were sleeping.”
>
> “Do you have more?”
> It’s amazing, as well as refreshing, to see the way art makes her
> become alert, alive
>
> and open to the world. Story and visuals, the old fashion salve for
> whatever ails and afflicts the soul. I finish my stay by reading her
> from Lucretius’ On The Nature of the Universe:
> I am blazing a trail through pathless
> tracts of the Muses’ Pierian realm, where no foot has ever trod before.
> What joy it is to light upon virgin springs and drink their waters…
> A somewhat different path than the walk she was on while she slept!
> She listens totally rapt!
>
> “I like that,” she says.
>
> “What do you think it means?”
>
> “I don’t know. Just read.”
>
> I do.
>
--
Andrew
http://hispirits.blogspot.com/
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