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Posts by Hannah

Blogsence*

Romp, ©2013, H. Hunter, 19" x 18," Quilted cotton cloth

Romp, ©2013, H. Hunter, 19″ x 18,” Quilted cotton cloth

My apologies to any of you who may receive this twice. I was editing on 2 computers and accidentally pressed “Publish” before I was done. Here’s to “blogsence”!

I went over to my friend’s house Saturday for some studio time–playtime really. As we talked and caught up, she said that she hadn’t received any of my posts for a while and thought that perhaps there was something wrong with the delivery system.

“Um, well, no, not exactly. Its just that I haven’t been writing them.” As I was leaving later that afternoon, my friend pointed out her calendar to me. I thought she might want to show me an amazing picture. What she pointed to was a series of red dots, extending from the end of April and into the beginning of May.

Pictures that she’s sold? I wondered. No, it turned out that these were days that she planned to keep free with no obligations. That explains my blogsence* perfectly. I was taking time to catch up with myself around the edges of work and family.

I also threw myself into an exciting online quilting class with Lisa Call: “Cutting and Piecing Without a Ruler,”

I loved it from start to finish. Lisa’s critiques were supportive, and gave me great ideas about how I could build upon what I had learned in class.

Although we pieced a number of projects in class, I didn’t quilt them, that is, I didn’t add batting and backing and stitch the whole sandwich together. In fact, I’ve rarely stitched a quilt sandwich and am reluctant to do so.

Gathering courage in hand, I put together a kind of sampler piece that I could practice on. I read various instructions, gazed through books with images of completed quilts and began.

After quilting the first few sections, I was convinced that I would never do anything like this again. Eventually, I got a rhythm going and it was fun, and the action of pushing the fabric through the machine, turning it at regular intervals and watching the pattern emerge was soothing.

By the time I finished, I was ready to begin again (this reminds me of when I gave birth to my first child and was so thrilled by meeting him, I was ready to do it all over again…no, I know it’s a stretch to compare childbirth to quilting, but it was pretty cool.)

I decided to take detail shots of the piece above and divide it into roughly 4 sections, exploring the possibilities inherent in each one. So that’s what I’m doing. My iron is ready: full steam ahead!

Romp, detail

Romp, detail

*Blogsence: Absence from blogs and blog writing

Staying Open…in the Studio

Mending Wall 6, ©2012, 38" x 12," Paper, fabric, watercolor on panel

Mending Wall 6, ©2012, 38″ x 12,” Paper, fabric, watercolor on panel

When I began this piece, I wanted to find a new way to work with triptychs. My love for the magical number 3 and Amish quilts stimulated the idea of a 3 panel piece using a traditional 9 patch block worked out in paper instead of fabric.

I extended the idea of the botanical blocks from previous pieces, but combined them with pieces of children’s school work. I combed the streets around my house for fallen pieces of paper and other wrinkled script that caught my eye.

The piece was created block by block, assembled, and then reworked so that the blocks harmonized.

As I stare at it now, several months later, I’m struck by the contrast between the squares containing children’s numbers, letters, drawings, and the more adept collage squares.

It reminds me of trying to balance the improvisational demands of practicing art therapy in a busy urban hospital with my more considered collage work in the studio.

I also thought about the concept of “blending” in the Japanese martial art, Aikido. The Japanese character ai, or, harmony, can be thought of as blending energies or forces. The principle of harmony is to avoid conflict by transforming the energy of opposition into a new form of resolution. That’s what I’m working towards.

With this in mind, I’ve made a big decision. I backed out of our city’s Open Studio.

Recently, two close family members were diagnosed with serious autoimmune disorders. There have been a lot of doctor’s appointments and shifting of priorities, and for now, I need to keep my concerns closer to home.

It’s funny; in encircling my wagons, I’ve actually spent more time in the studio and without the concerns of showing it, I’ve had more energy to explore new directions in my work.

Initially I was very sad; about the huge changes that illness can bring and the loss of opportunity. But for a long time, I’ve wanted to learn new techniques, take classes in art and design, without the concurrent pressure to produce for shows. If what they say is true, that when one door closes,  a new window opens, I think I’ve found that opening.

Opening a Studio

Mending Wall 5, ©2012, 12" x 12," Watercolor, fabric, paper on panel

Mending Wall 5, ©2012, 12″ x 12,” Watercolor, fabric, paper on panel

I recently googled the history of Open Studios and discovered that the open studios, called salons, were started by a certain Madame De Scudéry in Paris. It was a place where intellectuals, writers and artists gathered for discussions.

More recent open studios, the article said, focus on the creative act of making and sharing. And while that definition applies to studios where people are making art in a common space, I like it: a place that focuses on making and sharing.

And that’s exactly what I’m going to do April 12 and 13th, when along with 23 other artists, I’m going to be part of an open studio tour sponsored by our local Davis, CA gallery, the Artery.

I’m taking on the challenge because for a long time, I’ve really wanted to share my artwork in an intimate space; it’s intimate work and the more impersonal walls of a gallery don’t always do it justice. It looks good in a gallery, but in the home, it looks great.

When one of my friends pitched the idea to me, I bit.

I also decided to extend the open studio into my blog and for the next several posts, I’ll introduce you to some of the work I’ll be sharing in April.

The piece above is part of a series I worked on over the last summer. It’s called Mending Wall, after a poem by Robert Frost.

Before I built a wall I’d ask

What I was walling in or out

And to whom I was like to give offense

Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,

That wants it down.

In the series, I explore how I put up walls with people, when I take them down and under what conditions. Walls are needed in life; the trick is to figure out what to do when.

The process of putting the text and image together was not unlike building a wall. I used watercolor paintings of jade plants, which I had cut into squarish “stones” and blocks of text from some papers I’d found at my father’s: 50 year old documents from his career as an English professor.

Lest I sound like I’m still in an English lit. class, I have to tell you that when I made the collage, none of this was conscious. I was spurred on by sensation and under the spell of memory.

Pocket Change Unfolds

Several days ago, I found a rather large white box in the mail. It was bulging at the seams and when I opened it, out poured a tantalizing array of envelopes covered with stamps from far away lands. Artist Trading Cards for the 6 Degrees of Creativity Pocket Change swap!

Cards from Australia by Jade Herriman

Cards from Australia by Jade Herriman

I invited my sister Amelia over to help with the swap; why not spread the fun? An amazing afternoon unfolded as we carefully unpacked the cards and laid them out on the tables, marveling as each envelope revealed new treasure.

ATx.PC3

Pocket Change cards laid out and ready to be find their way to new homes.

Oh my gosh, how we were going to choose which cards went where? Amelia took on wrapping the cards; that meant I was going to do the selection. I decided “intuitive” was the way to go. Once I stopped worrying (and honestly there wasn’t much of that), the cards seemed to sort themselves.

Cards on envelopes, ready to wrap up and send...

Cards on envelopes, ready to wrap and send…

During the time that the cards were laid out, there was an air of expectation and exuberance in the studio, but most of all,  all of the love and caring that had gone into this awesome effort.

A selection of cards headed to Canada

4 cards headed to Canada

There was no way I could have anticipated the sheer creative goodness shining forth. Thank you so much to Beth Rommel for gathering  envelopes from every corner of the world and creating parcels for Gretchen and I to sort and swap. (The three of us each sorted about 50 packages!) Thank you also to Gretchen Miller without whom, 6 Degrees of Creativity  and Pocket Change would not exist. And thank you especially to every artist and agent of change who participated–I look forward to hearing your stories.

ATx.PC9

Artist Trading cards sharing heart and inspiration…you can see part of Sara Roizen’s card in the background, Susanna Suchak and Leighanne Schneider’s tucked in the middle and Judy Shintani’s in the foreground.

In Praise of Mother Love

Mom's Cafe, ©2005, H. Hunter, 5 x 8," SoulCollage®

Mom’s Cafe, ©2005, H. Hunter, 5 x 8,” SoulCollage®

In the course of bringing art therapy to different children in our hospital, I’ve had the occasion to also work with mothers. This isn’t unusual, I often try to involve as many people as I can in a project. When you’ve got a family making art together, you have a family making change together.

But lately, it’s moms whom I’ve found the most inspiring. We live in this world, which as I far as I can tell from reading the papers, seems to see people as disposable, their jobs lost to mergers, overseas labor and general sail trimming.

What I love about my job is that I get to see this notion turned on its head. We’re a former county hospital and we take whoever comes to us–our patient population is a cloth of many economic stripes.

I’ve been working with one mother who has a number of children at home and a newborn in the hospital. He’s been there several months and since he was born with a number of physical anomalies, he requires ’round the clock care. She’s been with him the whole time and fortunately has excellent family support at home.

Initially, I proposed creating picture books for her children at home, so that they could listen to a story that their mom wrote for them and feel her love as they listened.

It hasn’t worked out that way. Instead, each time I enter, the mom is standing by the crib being with her baby, adjusting a tube if needed, but really, just getting to know this little soul and loving him.

Art books weren’t going to happen. What to do?

Conversations with strangers don’t come easily for me, and without art materials as a medium, I initially felt lost. I decided that instead of book making, our art would be the making of conversation and of companionship.

So I’ve come by each day to visit, learning to be more comfortable with when we’re not making anything.  I ask a few questions, watch her face light up when we hit upon something that touches her, but mostly, I’ve just learned about devotion.

I see fatigue on her face, and I’m guessing, she might get more than a little hungry sometimes, but her steady presence strikes me as one of the most powerful examples of love that I’ve ever seen.

This Valentine’s Day, I recognize all kinds of love, but in particular, I want to celebrate the love of mothers for their children;  the strongest bond of all.

The Power of Inventory

Polihali Beach, ©2007, 9" x 12," handmade paper and raffia

Polihali Beach, ©2007, H. Hunter, 9″ x 12,” handmade paper and raffia

This past week I’ve been looking for the origins of my own artwork so I can create a database, in other words, I’m doing an inventory.

The word “inventory” is close to invention, don’t you think? One dictionary says that it comes “from the Latin inventus, pp. of invenire “to find” (see invention).”  I’ve tried to do this “finding” in the past and always abandoned the effort, overwhelmed by what feels like the task of herding cats.

Tropical Reverie, ©2010, H. Hunter, fabric, 9" x 12," paper on paper

Tropical Reverie, ©2010, H. Hunter, fabric, 9″ x 12,” paper on paper

I tried to keep an open mind though, even as I asked myself  “when did I create this picture? And what was I thinking about anyway?” I must have wondered about all this in less than a whisper,  because my husband abruptly asked, “why are you doing this?”

Good question–one that deserves an answer.

As each year collects itself like a growing season, bringing in a harvest, artwork accumulates. The more it piles up, the less I remember about its origins. So, I realized, in an odd way, I was rewriting my own history as an artist.

In Spite Of, ©2009, 12" x 12" x 2," paper, fabric, foil on panel

In Spite Of, ©2009, H. Hunter, 12″ x 12″ x 2,” paper, fabric, foil on panel

It was a surprising thought, one that buoyed me up and reminded me of something else my husband had said earlier: “You’re sewing yourself into the universe everyday. Otherwise you won’t feel a part of it and you’ll be out of it, ill at ease and maybe even dis-eased.”

A wise person, my husband. I thought he’d nailed it.

Since then, what began as something of a forced march has turned into a wonderful wild scavenger hunt–one requiring the detective skills of a Sherlock Holmes as clues pop up in the oddest places; a misplaced file, photographs hidden in plain sight on i-photo or a picture hanging in the corner of our meti-dia-beading (short for meditation, dining and beading) room.

It may take me another two months to complete this, but at the end, I imagine that I’ll have a good list of “what is found”–from Medieval Latin inventorium–and the pictures to prove it.

Mending Wall 6, detail, ©2012, H. Hunter, 12" x 38," watercolor, paper on panel

Mending Wall 6, detail, ©2012, H. Hunter, 12″ x 38,” watercolor, paper on panel

Mending Walls and Making Change

ATCs on parade

ATCs on parade

At some point in their studies, art therapy students discover the “media continuum.” On this continuum, media are placed along along an invisible line moving from point A to point B line according their degree of safety and control.

A lead pencil at one end of the continuum offers a feeling of familiarity and control–and on the the opposite end spectrum, oil paint offers an unwieldy challenge. If you don’t watch out, you might find your client who has difficulty with impulse control spraying the paint all over your office walls.

The key is to match the both the media and the intervention to the needs of the client. To non-art therapists, this might sound theoretical and over cautious.

It’s not. In my very first art therapy bereavement group many years ago,  an angry adolescent punched a hole in the wall of the hospital in which I was working; his reaction to my misdiagnosis of media and intervention. I hadn’t read the signals and had asked the group to attempt something that put this young man face to face with his grief far too early in his grieving process.

If I hadn’t been convinced about the medium continuum before, if my teachers’ stories seemed only to be tall tales, I became  a convert and I’ve employed it ever since.

I use the same principle in my own art. When I’m feeling stretched thin, I stick with materials over which I have more control. When I’m feeling expansive, my work and my materials grow too.

Right now, I’m in the process of sanding the panel edges of my “Mending Wall” series. I love this series, but I don’t like finish work. It feels like all the fun and discovery is over and I’m doing the visual equivalent of balancing a checkbook.

Mending Wall 1,© 2012, H. Hunter, 12" x 12," paper, watercolor on panel

Mending Wall 1,© 2012, H. Hunter, 12″ x 12,” paper, watercolor on panel

Recently, I decided to intersperse the task of sanding with our 6 Degrees of Creativity “Pocket Change” project. My deal for myself is: finish one sanded panel–make one artist trading card.

I’ve arranged the artist trading cards, in various stages of completion, at a discreet distance from where I sand. I can see them while I work, their bright colors shining, offering the possibility of almost instant gratification.

Mending Wall 1, edges sanded and stained

Mending Wall 1, edges sanded and stained

I’m beginning to love sanding. By creating a new rhythm: hard medium/easy medium/hard medium, I’m finding patience and sanding is leading to new ideas for my next series. I love the smooth, variegated surface of the wood.

Meanwhile, artist trading cards gather at the end of the table, ready to be mailed off for Beth Rommel, collector and distributor for our Pocket Change project.  Gretchen Miller, Beth and I have concocted this project to focus on the power of creating change through making something small (in the form of artist trading cards) and through engaging in simple acts of creative kindness.

You get the picture–help yourself, help others–it’s not too late to join us! The deadline is tomorrow,  Tuesday, January 15. For more information on the exchange, click here.

photo-2 2

I also invite to share stories about your own media continuum experiences–whether you called it that–or maybe just “those darn pastels!”

Pocket Change: Or, Small (Creative) Acts Create Meaningful Change

“Even after they are cut down, a sprout may be taken from them and planted in another place,
and they begin to grow again.” —Mishna

Pocket Change, Badge created by Gretchen Miller

Pocket Change, Badge created by Gretchen Miller

Like a lot of people I know, I’ve been searching for meaning among the rubble of recent events; both inside our country and out of it.

Though it is easier but necessary, to critique what is going wrong in our schools, our homes, and our countries, I wanted to stretch a little and find a project which contributes to the good in a small but meaningful way.

It began with an idea from my friend, Beth Rommel, who wanted  begin the new year with something positive, something with art, something with others.

In collaboration with Gretchen Miller and myself, we concocted Pocket Change, hosted by 6 Degrees of Creativity.

Pocket Change’s intention is to focus on the concept of creating change through making something small (in the form of artist trading cards) to exchange with one another, as well as to encourage simple acts of creative kindness with others.

I decided to try out making a few of the cards. They were fun to create–simple, without encumbrance. They remind me of mandarin oranges. You pick one up, peel it and pop it whole, or in a few sections, into your mouth and suck out the sweetness.

photo-4

Teach, ©2013, 2.5″ x 3.5,” Collage

photo-1

Blossom, ©2013, 2.5″ x 3.5,” Collage

photoPocket Change is all about how simple and small acts can create and instill kindness, gratitude, and change.  Think about the power of your mini artworks as a means to express and share a positive image, message, or intention with others (and the world!) that can make a difference, bring hope, or inspiration.

-Gretchen Miller

It reminds me of the Mindful Studio Practice that I offered as part of 6 Degrees of Creativity 2. The beauty of making artist trading cards is the opportunity for quiet moments in which your imagination can stretch.

But wait, there’s more: the added bonus of sending these miniatures off so that someone else will benefit from your practice.

Please join us for some pocket size creative goodness and kindness to share with one another and others!  The deadline to sign up for the ATC exchange is January 15.  Learn more about the exchange details and how to get involved on the 6 Degrees of Creativity blog.

“Caring for children…our first job”*

"Holding the Light" ©2010, H. Hunter, 5" x 8", SoulCollage®

“Holding the Light” ©2010, H. Hunter, 5″ x 8″, SoulCollage®

Lately, it’s been a Charles Dickens kind of time. You know, that line from  The Tale of Two Cities:

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way…”

These words, written by Dickens in 1859, 153 years ago, speak worlds about today. When I juxtapose the lights of Chanukah and Christmas against the carnage in Connecticut, I wonder how we can comprehend this paradox of light and dark. I don’t know.

I took heart as I listened to President Obama speak at the memorial service for the 20 souls of the children and souls of the 6 adults.

“This is our first task — caring for our children. It’s our first job. If we don’t get that right, we don’t get anything right. That’s how, as a society, we will be judged.

And by that measure, can we truly say, as a nation, that we are meeting our obligations?…I’ve been reflecting on this the last few days, and if we’re honest with ourselves, the answer is no. We’re not doing enough. And we will have to change.

That is a call to action if I ever heard one and it makes me take a closer look at my immediate world.

It’s easy to become desensitized working as an art therapist in a hospital–every day–a census filled with names, ages, diagnoses.

Lately that census has included more than one child who wasn’t adequately cared for; whose parents didn’t meet their obligation and left them untended, unfed, or even worse, dropped or shaken.

My mind cannot contain the range of extreme thoughts which arise, watching a toddler careen around the playroom sporting an NFL-size helmet for self-protection.

Often, due to brain injuries, these children have little or no impulse control, so put away those crayons and markers art therapist, it’s time to get moving.

The task becomes following them, holding them, talking to them, playing with them, getting down on the ground and dancing with them and in every way that I can, loving them.

In this new year to come, I challenge us all to take one small step toward the goal of caring for all of our children. What might that be? Taking time to listen, really listen when a child speaks, (put down the cell phone already!), donating time or money to an organization that brings aid to children, reading to a child, mentoring one, teaching a class at a local art center or finding a school that needs your aid.

There’s only one thing we can be sure of, and that is the love that we hold — for our children, for our families, for each other. The warmth of a little one’s embrace – the best cure for the worst of times.

*President Obama in his address to Newtown CT, 12/17/12.

Winter Wisdom

Mindfulness at Play

Vision Board 2012, ©2011, Hannah Hunter, Matte board and magazine images

“Art expression itself is a way of creating something new from what you already have, but may not have fully recognized within yourself.” Cathy Malchiodi

The other day I received a newsletter from my art therapist friend Lisa Mitchell.

She’s constructed a new series of workshops, including a vision board* workshop–and not just any old vision board workshop. Her descriptions note that, by using ordinary materials in unusual ways and learning new techniques, our intentions are solidified. In the process, our brain gets a workout using all our senses. The point is to bring our abstract ideas and dreams into the realm of the concrete and plausible, by incorporating them into the board.

That got me thinking about my own vision board, which I wrote about in a post, “Mindfulness at Play,” at the beginning of the year. I decided to go back to the board and see what has come to pass.

As I look at the board, I see a large, peaceful Buddha’s head framed by conifers and plants that remind me of our winter foliage here in California. Underneath the Buddha, from left to right, children hold a board filled with artist trading cards. To the right of the children a yoga class takes place. A teacher is helping a student with a pose.

In my post, I said that I wanted to deepen my art therapy practice; to become more present with the children, even as my own are grown. And I wanted, although I didn’t write it, to have a steady yoga practice.

What’s odd is that both of these desires have come to pass, but not by deliberate intention. The vision board hung on my studio wall, where it watched over me and I looked at it, day after day, while a year passed.

It has not been a straight path back to yoga–(is it ever?) Like Goldilocks, first I sampled the “big bowl,” a class at our University gym. I was the oldest participant and the class, a Viniyasa practice, and I felt like I’d just had an aerobic  workout, not a yoga class.

Next, for my “middle size bowl,” I tried a class offered through our hospital. The instructor offered peacefulness with a pale green scented candle. I ended up with a migraine.

Finally, for a bowl that is just right. The solution came in an unexpected fashion. Both my daughter and my sister have recently been diagnosed with auto-immune diseases that make certain movements difficult.

I remembered yet another yoga class I’d taken the previous year for people 55 and over. Led by the fearless and inimitable, Hana Raftery, majoring in exercise physiology, she had every one of us, from me to the oldest 80- something moving with ease.

I e-mailed her and set up a private lesson for my daughter and me. I invited my sister, who suggested we have it in her new house, which has a wooden floor, but would be empty for another month. Shazaam! A yoga studio!

Downward dog pose

Downward dog pose

We began by meeting once a week and now have increased it to 2 times. We’ve been meeting since before Thanksgiving and even though the two of them are still waiting for their respective rheumatology consults, their movements are coming more easily.

I am in hog heaven, if you can say that about a yoga class. I feel like I really have found the bowl that is “just right.” And it all started with a small 8.5 x 11 vision board.

I’m looking forward to making my 2013 vision board soon and I invite you to join me and make your own. Who knows, those dreams might just be waiting for an invitation to come out and play!

*A vision board is usually a piece of matte board on which you paste or collage images that you’ve torn out from various magazines. The intention behind the vision boards is the notion that when you surround your self with images of what you want to develop or change, your life changes to fit the images.