Art Speaks Louder Than Words
Leslie Lewis Spigler &...
Dear Grandmothers,
I am writing to you from the coast of California, and I am watching a goldfinch drink water from a fountain. I see a lot of goldfinches here.
There is so much inside of us that many people don’t know. Writers write because we need to express—it is a way of life. It could be called a religion, but I think it is even deeper than religion. It is just how we be, who we are. Our craft is working with words so we can form beginnings, endings, and in-betweens.
Today is July 4th, and that means that people are celebrating Independence Day in the United States. The holiday is about putting words on a page and declaring something big. The holiday is about a group of people stepping up for themselves. The holiday is about separation, and how separation from one thing can assist in uniting with something else.
All across the country, people will be hosting barbecues and playing outdoor games, and wearing the colors of the American flag—red, white, and blue. How many of those people have read the United States Constitution, or the Bill of Rights, and know it well?
There is so much about fathers and forefathers in those documents. There were mothers and grandmothers, too. How much do you think they influenced what words went on those pages?
What mothers may have been doing instead—and grandmothers, like you—were cooking meals and trying to raise children to be good people. Many mothers were also working hard, with their hands, their legs. Many mothers had no breaks, and earned no money for their labor.
Yesterday, I saw an exhibit in Santa Barbara that touched me in my heart in one of the deepest places. It is an exhibit called Kindred, by the oil painter Leslie Lewis Sigler. I always go to the Sullivan Goss art gallery when I visit Santa Barbara. It is perhaps my favorite thing about that city. And when I walked into the gallery, it seemed I was a magnet, drawn to the paintings of dishes and dining, of doilies and silverware that had twinkling light of blue and pink and purple dancing over it. The titles that went with each painting were also astounding, and it felt clear that these dishes, and this silverware, was alive. Each image vibrated with a pulse, because dining is about joining together. Dining is about coming home.
When I researched a little bit about the artist, Leslie Lewis Sigler, afterward, I learned that her grandmother gifted her the old china, and she used that gift to create these majestic paintings that in my opinion, are unparalleled. My body weeps and rejoices when I look at this work. It is beyond politics, and beyond differences between us all—even though having nice dishes, for many people, is a luxury. (So seldom are they used.) What this artist does is imagine the stories around the dishes, around the silver. What conversations are being had? Who is touching the forks? Who is preparing the meals? What would happen if the plates and forks, spoons and knives we use, took on the energy of our hands and our very beings—and those objects sang with the truth of these little flecks of light that we all are, inside?
Growing up, my mother—and my grandmother—always made time for dinner. Regardless of what was going on, we sat down around a table at a certain time. We shared a meal. We talked. Dining is, for me, a sacred, sacred thing.
These paintings by Leslie Lewis Sigler, for me, are also sacred.
I am sharing this video with you—a small storytelling documentary about the paintings by Derek Dockenhoft—so you can participate in the magic. In these scenes, there is an embodiment, a slowness, a savoring of each moment and experience. I think it shows us why artists matter so much—what they have the capability to do for our souls. The moments of this brief documentary, and its focus on story, savor objects the way many of us might savor the flavors of our food, the sound of forks clinking against porcelain when someone speaks at the table, or does not. We enter a world where we actually hear the sound of liquid pouring out of a container. We enter a world where we actually see the way light catches on a knife or spoon when the sun is setting through the window.
I hope you enjoy it. I hope you savor it, along with your own breath.
With love,
Ms. Wonderful
Today I republished my book, Letters to My Son, from Philadelphia about a way to address the intersection of religion and politics in the United States. The Kindle version is available now, and the paperback is available to order within the next few days.
Our boys and young men need our love, and the truth, not our division.
A lot of religion has been over-politicized and used to harm rather than help. I wrote these letters to offer a different side of the story.
