Hospitality Of Art

44 posts
Tea and Toast: Why We Love to Read About Food

Some of my favorite memories of life around the table involve foods I’ve never eaten and gatherings I’ve never attended. Only murmur the words sardines on toast, and I will sigh with pleasure. I have never tasted that precise combination, but many times I have sat by the fire with Lucy and Mr. Tumnus, warming my hands with a teacup and listening to the sleepy singing of his flute. I...

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This Ain’t a Science, So Quit Making Rules

We were friends before we ever lived in the same town. Pinterest led me to her blog a week before we traveled to Alabama, and then I chanced to meet her at a park. We knew pretty quickly that we were best friend material. That summer we decided to move to her area, but first we had to go home and pack up life in NY. She kept our friendship...

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A Seat At My Table

I was going into 11th grade outside of Chicago as our family started over again in a new city, new schools, new house. We’d moved to the DC suburbs just two years prior and moved houses between my freshman and sophomore years, as well. When I overheard my parents say the move to Illinois was definite, I excused myself from a dinner banquet to throw up in the bathroom. I...

9 1
Embracing the Art of Considering

The lunch hour begins at 1pm in the UK. My inner clock, born in the US, is adjusting to pushing lunchtime back an hour. I’m learning to ignore a growling stomach and embrace a culture of stopping midday for a respite. After decades of living hurried up on the inside, measuring time by productivity and eating lunch while standing up at the kitchen counter, Europeans are teaching me about the...

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Invitation To Dance

Before sunrise on 125th Street, before the vendors and employees arrive at the buildings along the boulevard, two men greet each other with a hug. They begin to unload vans and unfold tables, arrange incense and small colored bottles and soaps, accessories for small electronics and hand crafted beanies. While doing this music plays. The men stop when they recognize a communal favorite and finish their morning routine stepping together,...

6 3
Saying Yes, An Invitation From Poetry

Often I look back on my personal history with poetry, rather short though it is, and wonder if poetry came to me or if I came to poetry. It seems important for me to recall the arrival of poetry into my life. To define the relationship. To identify the nuances of its arrival. To mark and acknowledge life before, since and after it. Saying yes to life as an artist,...

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Bringing All Of Your Story To The Table

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine as children do. It's not just in some of us; it...

6 1
The beautiful and the broken

I stood three feet from the wall in the quiet gallery, the painting in front of me gritty with raw emotion. I wanted to step even closer, and I would have if I thought it was acceptable. I couldn't pull my eyes away until I had taken in the whole scene. The woman in the painting sat close enough to me that I could reach out and touch her. She...

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The Messy In Me Honors The Messy In You

In my little art studio, a mess is the evidence of creativity. It tells the story of lessons learned in exploration, experience earned, and emotions healthily expressed.(It also tells the story of me not being the neatest artist in the world. But that’s, well, another story.) I’ve made a habit of sharing those messes, my art in progress. I share them on social media and my website. My family, when...

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Learning To Sit In The Midst Of Ordinary Time

"It's in the small moments that life is truly lived." Marion Roach Smith, The Memoir Project Two years ago my husband decided to quit his job before we knew what job would be next. It wasn't sudden or flippant or careless, but it was risky and all arrows pointed to fear. You would think, then, that this major life change would have kept me up at night wringing my hands and...

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