“Let everything happen to you.” — Rilke
Dear Readers,
I am back from my month long European adventure. Thank you, and welcome, to all of you who signed up for A Silver Fraction while I was away.
In these weeks across the sea I fell into a wonder-filled world of time, history, collaboration and surprise. I am returning with a sense of renewal, and something more — a kind of recognition that can only happen when you become a stranger. Others see you as if you are new, and the world holds up a different mirror. The reflection I was offered was both familiar and strangely new. The remembrance comes with the blossoming of what has been lying in wait within. It occurs to me now as I write, that the feeling of belonging, this recognition, perhaps only comes after the willingness to be lost, not knowing who I am, being a receiver, a stranger.
I am bursting with creative ideas for the time to come. There are so many stories to tell from Switzerland, Germany, Belgium and Italy. In the middle of this adventure I had the pleasure of teaching with my German and Italian friends Mari Bohley, Birgit Nass and Massimo Polello. We stayed in a villa tucked away in the hills of Tuscany. We arrived for the sunset and the full moon rising.
The four teachers concentrated on different aspects of the process:
Book Design & Binding | Mari Emily Bohley; Color & Composition | Birgit Nass; Concrete to Abstract Handwriting | Massimo Polello; Line, Landscape and an Etruscan alphabet | Laurie Doctor
On the last day of our class in Tuscany, we decided to do a spontaneous collaboration for the students. The four of us, each with a different tool, stood behind a long strip of paper, and all began at once making marks and words on paper.
At the end we cut it into sections so that each student received one signed piece:
When the class ended, my fellow teachers embarked on their plan for us to go to the sea. This was all that I knew, that we were heading out — and the not knowing my destination, simply piling into the car and heading west with our bags, supplies and suitcases, accompanied by my feeling of being carried — was pure joy. We crossed the Alps, saw snow and treeless mountainsides, and arrived a couple hours later on the Beratti coast of Italy. We stayed for five days. We made time for meals together, conversation, and exploring the coast; and also for talking about our week of working together. This sparked new ideas and enthusiasm for what we want to do next. We are already planning for our class in Tuscany in 2024.
This experience has deepened my feeling of the bounty that comes when I take the risk and make the effort to leave my comfortable home. It has renewed my conviction of the gifts that come with the morning rituals of meditation, the time away from screens, and reading something that sets my compass for the day. Then comes the in-body experience of beginning all my writing like I am now: with ink on paper, by hand, using my favorite pen, sitting in my favorite chair. Sometimes using paint, sometimes closing my eyes. Finding the discoveries that come with touching pen written words to paper, –“aha’s”– that otherwise get lost in the spin, like a fragment of a dream. I want to awaken and keep alive the other selves inside me that only emerge when the space is open, when I make the effort, and there is a long enough pause…..
Even if you are not in the position to travel, you can explore something or somewhere new. What are you doing to adventure out? I’d love to hear from you.
PS: The students that come, touch my heart and ask me questions I don’t know the answer to. I feel so lucky. This time I had over 50 students in my classes in Belgium, Italy and Switzerland — so I can only give you a glimpse of what I have been given in their presence and their work. So many of you ask about seeing the work from the students that my plan is to post more images in my Resource Library. For now, here are some from my class in Basel:
Welcome to Andy Schenk’s studio. I had no idea what a treat it would be to teach in his studio/museum. For example, when I asked him what those little books were, on the shelf, tied up in string he said: Oh, that is a first edition set of Goethe’s writing. Each drawer that you open is filled with collections of tools of every kind, going all the way back to cuneiform.
I could have spent days just investigating Andy’s incredible collection, and then there were the dinners he fixed for us in the evening — with real genuine Swiss fondue, fresh baked bread and white wine.
More to come…..