London Dairies

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London on a rainy day

Art speaks a universal language. Right? So, here’s a question to think about: How does art create community? I thought about this question as I waited in huge lines with people from all over the world. Or as I tried to squish up close to a Van Gogh work.

Although I couldn’t speak the same language as my fellow art enthusiasts, we connected. (Because everyone speaks “iPhone.”) So, we crossed language barriers to snap each other’s photos in front of famous paintings or landmarks. Then, suddenly, we all became multi-lingual when it came time to say “Thank you.”

Thank you. Thank you.

Merci. Merci.
Grazie. Grazie.
Arigato. Arigato.

Art united us. Art brought us into community. How has art helped you to cross divides and experience community with your global neighbors? Or maybe just connecting with the guy next door?

A Paint Brush That Speaks

Behind the Artwork

Courage Ablaze

My definition of being a human who cares about her world began to change in 2011, when I collided with Josephine and other Congolese refugees living in Grand Rapids, Michigan. At the time, my knowledge of Congo didn’t extend beyond a country located on the map.

For the next year, I began to research Congo’s horrific story—eight million people slaughtered in Congo’s holocaust and two million women raped. Why? Because of Congo’s vast natural resources, such as gold, coltan—used in our cell phones and laptops, and diamonds.

After learning about Josephine’s suffering and the millions of other Congolese people like her, this question burned: “Pamela, do you care enough about the women and children of Congo to do something?” I responded with my paintbrush to give viewers a glimpse into the fierce determination of these remarkable individuals by creating a healing space called Courage Ablaze. After viewing the work, several American visitors confided their own rape stories; Josephine’s pain ignited courage.

Does Josephine’s story also kindle your compassion? When others are in need, like our sisters from Congo, what can the rest of us do to help them? When one woman supports another, our lives interconnect—setting hope and healing ablaze.

Josephine’s story is a composite story that has been shared in the news or reports. Her real name and some of the details have been changed.

Instagram @ Pamela Alderman

#paint4healing
#artistcitizenwork

Let it Go!

From the Heart

Let it go!

“You hate your father,” he suddenly blurted out. I sat there stunned.

While having lunch with Larry Crab, a well-known counselor and author, I shared some of the deep hurt I had experienced when my father divorced my mother after 24 years of marriage, stripping me of my family.

After crying over those difficult words for the next several hours, I struggled through a sleepless night. Traumatic childhood memories resurfaced and plagued me. I longed to be freed.

Over the next several days, I wrote a letter to my father that I never intended to mail. I tried to list every single hurt, disappointment, and broken promise I could remember. After completing the letter, I crumpled it up and threw it into a blazing fire. As flames consumed it, I inched closer to freedom.

Several years later on one memorable day, my father phoned me. We laughed and chatted. When it came time to say “good-bye,” I struggled for a moment whether or not to say “I love you.”

In my mind, a battle ensued. But I said a quick prayer. Then I added, “Dad, I love you.” He responded, “Yeah, here too.” Four days later while I was cooking dinner, my brother called and simply said, ‘Pamela, Dad died.” I dropped to the floor in anguish. At 33, I had lost my dad.

Years later, I no longer remained the same woman that the author in the restaurant said I was; I had taken great strides towards healing. As I learned to let go of the resentment—whether I ever heard an apology or not—the wounds healed. Love had replaced the former hate.

At my father’s funeral, I shared my last four words to my father: “Dad, I love you.”

Let Go Inspirational Sentences

Behind the Artwork

Close-up of Let Go statements

Let Go statements from the ArtPrize participants:

I’m letting go of lost friendships.

I’m letting go of my body shame.

I’m letting go of changes that I think you should make.

I’m letting go of the past—everything that I cannot change.

I am letting go of caring about what other people think of me.

I need to remind myself not to look back and pick up what I had let go.

I’m letting go of unforgiveness for people who have betrayed me and hurt me deeply.

Let Go and Forgive

It’s hard to imagine what the loss of a child may feel like; let alone a situation where a child’s life has been taken by another. Yet Peter, the father, beautifully expresses his difficult journey—from hate to freedom—in dealing with his son’s death.

After my son’s death, I had to let go of the anger, and I had to let go of the hate. In time, I had to forgive.
Signed, Peter

Note: One hundred twenty-six participants pre-submitted Let Go letters and sentences to be collaged into the painting. The names and some details have been changed to protect identities.

Soul Care

From the Heart

Impressionism Gallery at the Art Institute of Chicago

After reading Makoto Fujimura’s book called Culture Care, I have been more intentional about planning adventures for personal renewal and enjoyment. Last week’s trip led me to Chicago. When I stepped into the Impressionism Gallery at the Art Institute of Chicago, my soul found a resting place.

Tears welled up from the immense beauty of the artwork. Later after wandering through more galleries, I felt pulled back toward the Impressionism artwork. So I returned. Renoir. Monet. Morisot. Their colors, brush strokes, and compositions lifted my heart. Their enduring works inspired me.

In his book, Makoto talks about the importance of cultivating our own souls, so we can flourish and help nurture others. He states that “Soul Care will require nurturing spaces.” The Impressionism Gallery at the Art Institute is a nurturing space for me. A place to experience beauty and healing.

Culture Care by Makoto Fujimura

Photo from the Impressionism Gallery at the Art Institute of Chicago