"This work is unlike any other, in its range of rich, conjuring imagery and its dexterity, its smart voice. Carroll-Hackett doesn’t spare us—but doesn’t save us—she draws a blueprint of power and class with her unflinching pivot: matter-of-fact and tender." —Jan Beatty

Posts tagged ‘travel’

Daily Prompt Love <3 Natural Elegance

1 August 2017

el·e·gance

  (ĕl′ĭ-gəns)

n.

Refinement, grace, and beauty in movement, appearance, or manners.

Tasteful opulence in form, decoration, or presentation.

Restraint and grace of style.

 

Make art about the elegance of the natural world.

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Daily Prompt Catch-Up! 11 Days Worth of Prompt Love! <3

Prompt Love Catch-Up!

6 July 2017

Make art about packing for a trip, what to leave in, what to leave out.

packing

7 July 2017

Make art about arrivals, about arriving.

arriving.jpg

8 July 2017

Make art about reunion of souls.

reunion of souls

9 July 2017

Liminal: occupying a position at, or on both sides of, a boundary or threshold.

Make art about liminal space.

liminal space

10 July 2017

Make art about light and dark, about the juxtaposition of light to dark, about how we need one to know the other. (with love to Mesha Maren ❤ )

light-and-dark

11 July 2017

Make art about moving past obstacles (with love to Rahul Mehta ❤ )

obstacles

12 July 2017

Make art about a whisper, or a howl (with love to Kim Dana Kupperman ❤ )

howl_artwork_full

13 July 2017

Make art about relocating in our own bodies (with love to Jon Corcoran ❤ )

body

14 July 2017

Make art about the amalgamous nature of memory, of how sometimes the amalgam is more true. (With love to Eric Waggoner ❤ )

Memory

15 July 2017

Make art about point of view, about deliberately shifting point of view (with love to Rodney Jones ❤ )

point of view

16 July 2017

Make art about departures.

departure

17 July 2017

Make art about driving alone, about that silence in the cocoon of the car.

driving alone

 

Daily Prompt Love Catch-Up <3 Healing, Exits, & Wisdom From Reverend Barber

2 July 2017

Make art about natural healing.

natural healing

3 July 2017

Make art about your exit strategy.

exit plan

4 July 2017

Make art inspired by this quote from the Reverend Dr. William Barber, II

rev barber

 

Daily Prompt Love <3 Traffic

1 July 2017

Make art about something unexpected, something magical, happening in heavy, holiday traffic. 

holiday traffic

Daily Prompt Love <3 Learning While Traveling, and What Has to Go

27 June 2017

Manchild’s headed off for a trip to Hawaii with his girlfriend 🙂 

Make art about learning something on a long flight. 

airplane

 

28 June 2017

I’m reorganizing and rearranging and reshaping my tiny little house in the trees, moving furniture, getting rid of stuff. 

Make art about discoveries made while spring cleaning or reorganizing. Or make art about the feeling of newness that comes after a big clean or reorganization, after ‘cleaning house.’

reorganizing

 

Daily Prompt Love Catch-Up <3 Carnivals, Weeds, and a Fistful of Stars

10 June 2017

Accompanied my daughter and son-in-law today for that GrandPerson’s first trip to a fair.

Make art inspired by a fair, or carnival.

Max Merry Go Round 2

11 June 2017

Traveling on back roads today, my favorite way to get anywhere.

Make art about back roads, country lanes, two-lane blacktops cutting through nothing but countryside.

12 June 2017

Grading and gardening day.

Make art about pulling weeds, about weeding things out.

pulling weeds

13 June 2017

Dreamt someone I love brought me a gift.

Make art about a fistful of stars.

hand filled with light

Daily Prompt Love <3 Another Chance: A Very Special Birthday Prompt

19 May 2017

Seven years ago today, my oldest son J was in a terrible car accident, his little plastic Saturn sedan t-boned by a brand new Dodge Charger with its all-steel construction.

J, my laughing, charismatic, kind, smart son, only 22 then, was critically injured, with a compression skull fracture, subdural hematoma, subarachnoid hemorrhaging, and four feather bleeds into his beautiful brain. They airlifted him by helicopter from our small town to the major medical facility, MCV, in Richmond, admitting him directly into the neurological ICU. He was conscious the whole time, talking, joking, charming the nurses, complaining that he couldn’t look out the window on his first-ever helicopter ride, even saying things meant to reassure me, his sister, his brother, the friends who stood by us at the hospital. We bedded down in the ICU waiting room, while behind those heavy doors, monitors clicked and hummed, documenting my son’s traumatic brain injury. That was Wednesday. 

Early Thursday afternoon, as I stood as J’s bedside, a doctor we hadn’t seen before strode in, his crisp white lab coat flowing behind him. He introduced himself as the head of neurological research, and after a moment, he asked us if we had seen J’s latest CT scan. We hadn’t, so he hurried from the room, telling us he’d be right back. J and I looked at each other, confused, and my son must have seen worry in my eyes, as he patted my hand. 

The doctor returned, wheeling in a large piece of equipment, a medical imaging viewer, and positioned it at the end of J’s ICU bed. He turned it on and the image of my son’s skull appeared,  stark in the black and whiteness of it all. For a second, we were completely silent. Then the doctor, smiling, began to explain what we were seeing.

What we were seeing was nothing: no bleeding, no bruising, no swelling. The only sign that remained of my son’s injury just 24 hours before was the spiderweb of fractures in the bone, as if a pencil eraser had been pushed into the fragile shell of an egg, a network of bone break just beneath the C-shaped wound on the side of his head.  J’s brain looked completely normal, showing not a single other sign of the blow he’d taken the day before in the wreck that had left his little car mangled, left nothing but the driver’s seat intact. 

The doctor grinned, saying, “We want to study you, study why and how you healed so quickly.”

That was Thursday. We brought J home midday on Friday. Six weeks later, he was back at work, then back to his last year of college that fall. We talked time and again about his miraculous healing, about why it might have happened. 

J, my wise son, said, “Mom, I don’t know why it happened. I just know I got another chance.” 

He now calls May 19 his birthday. His Facebook status this morning read, “Today, I am alive.” 

Make art about being given another chance. 

 

J and Max

 

 

 

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