"Quilted Icon"

Seth Godin's business blog post, "I Quilt", reminds me of my grandmother, Cora Bess Campbell, and the patchwork quilts she made for all her grandchildren.

The youngest of twelve, born and raised on an Arkansas farm, Cora Bess Yingst (age 16) married LeRoy Campbell (age 19) shortly before they hopped a train to California. Roaming like gypsies, picking crops with migrant workers up and down the West Coast, they fished, camped and made life-long friends along the way.

They settled in San Bernardino, California. Nightly, he used Lava soap and a brush to scrub the auto-shop grease from off his hands and under his fingernails. Even before he'd spent a chunk of his weekly pay at the bar, it was hardly enough to feed, cloth and house a family of five. Cora Bess chose to rise to the creative challenge of turning scraps into things of beauty, form and function.

Grandma Bess, a meticulous seamstress, made my large, colorful quilt out of little scraps of material left over from the perfectly-fashioned cotton dresses she'd made for me from flour sacks. I'd sit on the floor next to her, cutting fascinating buttons from old clothes I'd never seen, and add them to the glass jar of her enormous collection. I'd sort and stack various sizes of empty wood thread spools while her fingers expertly guided the flowered fabric under the bobbing needle of her foot-powered shiny, black Singer sewing machine. I was enthralled by her talents. I can still conjure up the aroma of pinto beans, cornbread and greens cooking while she taught me how to take remnants of seemingly worthless material, and come up with a creative, beautiful and functional design.

Seth's, "I Quilt", helped me view circumstances and/or relationships like precious scraps of unique materials with the potential of special uses and re-uses. Cora Bess's gift to me is now a "Quilted Icon" - symbolic of my perpetual option to create beauty with whatever, as little or as much, is at hand. Like scraps of varying weights, textures, weaves and sources of materials are sometimes difficult to stitch together; so, too, are some jobs, people, and circumstances. I'm grateful for the compatible remnants with which I've been able to design, handle and stitch a life together. I want to make the most of what I've been given - and I'm remembering how to do that by visualizing my grandmother creating my very own "Quilted Icon".

Santa Fe Plaza Serendipity/Ronald Chee

We are celebrating my mother's, Cora Lee Phillips, 81st birthday in Santa Fe, New Mexico.  She and I had a grand adventure here over forty years ago when we attended an "Up With People" conference.  All I remember is that it was Christmas time, there was a foot of snow on the ground, the luminaria bags lining the streets, the heatless motel room we stayed in, sleeping in the same bed with my freezing feet under her legs - and peeling what seemed like thousands of shrimp in the basement of one of the stucco churches to feed the attendees.  Santa Fe was a quaint, tiny village at the time.  So much has changed, yet so much remains the same.  She remembered the Plaza where the people from various Indian Nations lined the sidewalk, huddled with their silver, turquoise, pots and blankets.  After a delicious champagne breakfast of huevos rancheros with green chile, we explored those same sidewalks.

At first approach, the image was similar to our past experiences, of old and young people from various tribes.  However,  much of the jewelry looked as though it may have been mass-produced in a factory somewhere far off and shipped in to be sold on the street at a percentage of sales to the vendor.

Regardless, we were thrilled to meet a wonderful painter named Ronald Chee.  His work honors his heritage and yet is original and modern.  I love his colors and approach.  I've included a link to his web-site for further exploration.

The Nuts and Bolts of Brother Mel

                               Brother Mel








I was on lunch break when I took a "quick" detour into The Arts Company in downtown Nashville.  I felt nurtured as I viewed the beautiful paintings, sculptures and mixed media.   I took the elevator to the second floor and entered a room containing six "bowls" of various sizes made of welded metal items like nuts, bolts, wrenches, hammer heads, meat hooks, spoons, forks, knives and tractor chains.   I stopped in my tracks and my pulse quickened when I saw "my" Brother Mel bowl.   I had to touch it.  I had to walk around it and watch the way the eastern light spilling in bounced off it's irregular surfaces.  I visualized how it would look with a round piece of glass on top of it sitting in front of my fireplace and saffron color sofa.   Now, I'm not a girl who spends lots of money on stuff.  But I knew this piece belonged with me.   And then when I found out that the artist was a Marianist monk and that all of his portion of the sale went to supporting his community,  I was further inspired.

I have since met Brother Mel numerous times, and am as inspired by his story and his spirit as much as I am by his work.  You can see more of his work at  www.theartscompany.com/brothermel

(c) copyright 2009 Pam Mark Hall

I'll Have Nun of That!

I did a triple take! I spied a luminous vision while I waited for the light to change. Sitting there in front of Maggie Moo's enjoying ice cream on a gorgeous fall afternoon, were four elegant, laughing nuns with their white robes and white/black lined habits flapping in a gentle breeze. Pleasure, it was pure pleasure I tell you! That is what I saw vaporizing from this joyous party! They were taking pleasure in each other's company, pleasure in the glorious day, pleasure in their rich decadent ice cream cones, and pleasure in feeling the pleasure (ok I'm projecting) of their creator taking pleasure in them taking pleasure! Kinda like that rain - ocean - evaporation - rain - ocean continuum.

It looked like pure pleasure to me, and I'll have nun of that!

Copyright (c) 2009 Pam Mark Hall