Letting Go

Behind the Artwork

Close-up of hand written Let Go statements

A Daughter’s Story

More than one hundred participants submitted “Let Go” sentences to be collaged onto my ArtPrize Nine painting. But one woman caught my attention when she wrote this statement: “Mom, I’m letting go of my expectations of what our relationship should look like. I forgive you for the pain you caused, and I release you from any responsibility to heal me.”

Her profound statement, “I release you from any responsibility to heal me,” compelled me to contact her to see if she would share more of her story. She agreed. The following vignette shows her progression from heartache to healing. The Let Go journey is always difficult but never impossible.

Mom,

You said I shouldn’t be affected by your decision to divorce my dad. What you didn’t realize was that you not only closed yourself off from Dad, but from me as well. When you shut yourself away in your room and told me not to bother you, I learned that I no longer had a mother to depend on; I had to fend for myself.

When I left for work one day, you changed the locks to prevent my dad from coming in. But you didn’t realize—you locked me out too. Over and over, you chose your “freedom” and your “own” path over me. Your choices cut a deep wound in my heart.

One day, I realized you would probably never apologize; I needed to forgive you, or my bitterness would end up consuming me. I had to accept you for being you, instead of wishing you were some other mom.

Mom, I’m letting go of my expectations of what our relationship should look like. I forgive you for the pain you caused, and I release you from any responsibility to heal me.

Love,
Your daughter

This is one of the stories that inspired the Let Go exhibit.

Note: Some details have been changed to protect identities.

Coloring with Kindness

Behind the Artwork

Teenagers tying ribbons on Color Me Orange—Color Me Kind at ArtPrize 2016

Nathan’s Story

Color Me Orange—Color Me Kind shines a spotlight on bullying. The installation is specifically tailored toward middle school students—often the most vulnerable. Sadly, some of these students suffer so intensely from bullying that they believe suicide is the only way to end it all.

Our intentional kindness has the potential to brighten someone’s world. Maybe kindness, love, and understanding could have helped those who committed suicide because of bullying. Here’s how Nathan used his limited resources to color someone’s life with kindness and inspire hope:

D’Mario used the f-word and flipped me off a few times; he was the only kid in our sixth-grade class I tried to avoid. D’Mario was angry at everyone, but I was his target.

During basketball season, D’Mario and I ended up on the same team. He threatened, “You better quit, or I’ll hurt you.” D’Mario used sports to get his anger out; he used sports to control.

One day, the holes in D’Mario’s old Nike shoes gave me an idea. I made $2.50 a day walking a dog, so I started saving up. After two months, I bought a decent pair of Adidas shoes for 60 bucks. When I gave D’Mario the basketball shoes, his eyes got big.

That moment sparked something; D’Mario realized that I wasn’t out to get him. I showed him that I cared.

Once I got the courage to reach out to D’Mario, he realized that we weren’t competitors. I felt relieved. He started giving me compliments on the court; I gave him compliments back. By taking a risk and choosing kindness, my actions brought out D’Mario’s nice side.

Nathan, age 12

Nathan’s story inspired the Color Me Orange—Color Me Kind exhibit.

Living with Autism

Behind the Artwork

Excerpts from Walker’s Story

Wings of LoveParticipatory art has a subtle power to serve as a healing catalyst. Visitors often experience new insight through connecting with the work. As the artwork begins to unlock the soul, it becomes a place of hope and healing. Walker’s autism story inspired an avalanche of hope, with more than twenty thousand ArtPrize visitors writing prayers for other children, like Walker, at Wing and a Prayer.

I have autism! I’m afraid that others will look at me differently. But, if they could see what is in my heart, they would see a real human being. Not an outcast or a kid to dislike.

One of my teachers said I would never learn how to read or do math, but she didn’t understand my determination. In high school and college, I played hockey, got good grades, and achieved pretty well socially, too.

I can’t get my autism to go away no matter how hard I try. But I’m living proof that people can’t tell me how far I can go. That is up to me!

Walker, age 19

Walker’s story inspired the Wing and a Prayer exhibit.

Grandmother Was an Artist

From the Heart2 Comments

Example of grandmother's knitting

My elegant grandmother, the middle of ten children, was born in 1903. Her father had to clear the land in northern Michigan before he could farm. So, like others from her generation, she needed to quit school after the ninth grade to work the farm. Her favorite subject was math.

As a young adult known for her mouthwatering pies, she moved to Grand Rapids, Michigan to work as a cook for a doctor. At 30, she moved back home and married my grandfather, a small businessman, who owned a confectionery shop, ran a creamery delivery service, and worked as a barber. My grandmother skillfully sewed her clothes by hand and also worked on the side as a seamstress.

Years later after returning back to Grand Rapids, she started knitting mittens to sell at bazaars. These mittens were for a special purpose. Grandma sold them to help children needing mental health services. As a child, I remember seeing a kaleidoscope of colorful balls of yarn in her basket—while delicious smells wafted from her oven. Sometimes she had several knitting and crocheting projects in process. I loved running my fingers over her colorful floral afghans or delicate crochet stitches that swirled into amazing patterns.

While quietly creating these beautiful works, my grandmother often prayed for me. Her faithful prayers carried me through my tumultuous childhood and my parents’ subsequent divorce. Somehow my grandmother’s art and prayers bolstered my creative spirit. And like my grandmother, I later discovered my own artistic spark coupled with the desire to help others.

After being widowed for twenty years, my grandmother finally succumbed to breast cancer, but I still hold her memory dear. Her intricate textiles, artfully displayed in my home, remind me of an industrious woman who served others through the works of her hands. My grandmother was an artist, and her art brought warmth, love, and comfort to many in need.

Artist Journal: Time for Creative Rest

From the Heart8 Comments

Snow covered mountain cabin retreat

Over the last decade after creating large healing art installations for ArtPrize in Grand Rapids, Michigan, serving tens of thousands of visitors, managing around fifty volunteers a year, figuring out how to financially sustain my art business, struggling to secure a venue to host my work, and buying over 335,000 interactive supplies for the ArtPrize audience, I needed time for solitude and creative rest.

The whole idea started while meeting a new friend for coffee at Union Station in Denver. While discussing all my exciting adventures in helping tons of people experience healing art over the last ten years, my friend, Laurie, simply said, “Pamela, I think you need to take time for rest and recharging.”

I admit I was tired. In fact, I was worn thin. I had worked really hard for a decade. For an artist, the creative journey is often uphill. I’m not whining here; I’m just making a statement about the typical artist’s way.

Laurie proceeded to offer me a week of solitude at her guest cabin on her ranch in the mountains. Wow! How could I turn down such an unusual and generous gift?!

So, this January with great anticipation, I packed my heavy snow clothes, boots with Yaktrax, journal, pens, and a few carefully selected books—and headed west. Before reaching Denver, I had arranged rides to my mountain retreat and back. Of course, my week of solitude was carless. I mean Ernest Shackleton didn’t have a car on his arctic expedition, right?

After driving into the mountains, a quaint, snow-covered cabin, my home for the next several days, came into view. Then a new and unexpected feeling prickled through me: anxiety. A week…alone and carless? I almost started crying as I watched my ride disappear back down the slope. But the discomfort passed within a few moments when I sat down to plan my schedule—and unplugged from social media.

Here’s a quick glimpse at my week: Life becomes very simple with no car and no Internet.

Day One: Put away my paintbrushes for a bit and fell back into the deep snow to stare at the big blue sky.

Day Two: Made a gratitude list.

Day Three: Watched a herd of elk disappear over the ridge and went snowshoeing later in the day—following the elk tracks.

Day Four: Read and reflected.

Day Five: Set goals and evaluated my art direction.

Day Six: Packed my suitcase and headed back to Denver with a renewed spirit—ready to create new art!

Elk, snowshoes, and tracks

My friend had given me a valuable spiritual retreat. Although art had opened the door for many exciting adventures and many special new friends, I had needed something else. I had needed rest. As I headed back down to routine and busyness, I whispered a prayer of thanksgiving.

More from an American in Paris

From the Heart

Omaha Beach in France

Of all the places to visit in France, Omaha Beach was on our Top 3 list. Seeing thousands of white crosses, a few crumbling bunkers, and the uneven terrain from World War II bombers pelting the shoreline left an indelible mark on our hearts.

Over nine thousand American military members are buried above the beach. The loss of life for the allied troops and enemy forces was enormous. Looking down at the beach from the bunkers, you could almost hear the Saving Private Ryan battle cries. Conflict is costly.

Vet writing hero message on Hometown HeroWhile on Omaha Beach, I thought of the veteran soldiers who visited my ArtPrize 2015 Hometown Hero installation. These veterans soldiers, who honored the World War II, Vietnam, Iraq, and Afghanistan fallen, made a deep impression on us—the ArtPrize visitors, my volunteers, and me, the artist. Their story of sacrifice and loss, even decades later, was profoundly visible. We all felt their grief.

Many tears fell. Both the soldiers’ tears. And the onlookers’ tears. Our tears gathered and fell as the soldiers recorded the names of their fallen heroes on the painting and, then, silently saluted their comrades. One soldier even crawled up to the painting on his abdomen in the Amway Grand Plaza Hotel, Marine style, to write the name of his fallen “brother.”

Heroes written in beach sand

As a military wife, grandmother, and artist, it is my mission to seek hope and healing wherever my work leads. A work that focuses on viewers and their story. A work that offers a healing space.

Decades from now, what will be your story? Or my story? Will we be the ones who laid down our lives for freedom? Or will we be the survivors, passing on a hope-filled story to our grandchildren?

An American in Paris

General

Love Lock Bridge in Paris

While walking 6.3 miles to the Eiffel Tower, we accidentally discovered the Love Lock Bridge in Paris. I almost missed this Pinterest destination because I was admiring all the French architecture as we crossed this famous footbridge.

Yes, I left my husband of 35 years a padlock declaring my love. But after reading about the bridge days later, I discovered that the Parisians consider this tradition of leaving padlocks on the bridge to be graffiti. So, without knowing it, I have now become a graffiti artist.

While visiting the Orsay Museum, I happened upon another discovery. A new Van Gogh painting that I had never seen before. Van Gogh is one of my favorite artists. I admire his determination and vulnerability against enormous odds.

Van Gogh painting

Selling only one painting during his lifetime, he couldn’t afford to purchase his own paints. Instead, his brother bought his art supplies. Although Van Gogh was poor, his paintings are loaded with heavy paint strokes. He didn’t create out of scarcity. His generosity with paint on the canvas still touches our souls and sparks our imaginations decades later.

Van Gogh’s generous work challenges me to rethink my own attitude as an artist. Do I create out of scarcity or abundance? Admittedly, I often allow my creative challenges to affect my work, my attitude, and my goals. How about you? Do you let a lack of resources diminish your dreams or squelch your possibilities?