I have a visual language inside me. It is older than time. My language embodies my past, my future, the dark and the light. There is the window silhouette, the martini in the sunset, the starlit swim. My dream images are pieces of each moment which makes all of my time seem endless and open to interpretation.
“Because we don’t know when we will die, we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. Yet everything happens only a certain number of times, and a very small number really. How many times will you remember a certain afternoon that’s so deeply a part of your being that you can’t even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four or five times, perhaps not even that. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems so limitless.”
-The Narrator (Paul Bowles), from the film, The Sheltering Sky
Now my love, I know there is no leaving that rock. It is the voice in my bones, my blood, my foundation. Those dark waters surrounding me in sleep hold clues each and every night. When it gets too hard I smell the lilacs. When it gets too hard I remember the stars. When it gets too hard, I think of you.
This blog is dedicated to my Mother.
The entire piece is called:
Dear Lucilla Day,
It was performed at St. Marks Church in NYC on January 17, 2003 with The Alchemy Brooklyn Blues Ensemble. It was one of the coldest nights of that Winter and the house was packed. In the front row was my entire family.
In the end my radical new ideas are old and time tested! If you can help to create a community of inspired learners with inspired patience you have a shot at something innovative and lasting.
My unexpected lessons at this point? You just never know who is going to be touched and respond to certain things. The Ace In The Pocket story has brought out such a response from all sorts of people in all sorts of roles in this Art Ed field. Both on this blog and off…I plan to make a visual response for my Summer Seminar Community.
Thank you for this opportunity Phil and Stephanie and David.
Hawley Hussey
Coney Island
Winter 2008
4 responses so far ↓
1 amy chase // Feb 1, 2008 at 11:38 am
This blog (gosh, isn’t there a more beautiful word we could use?) has been such a treasure to look into during this cold dark month of january. It is a stately marching of poignant stories and words of wisdom and inspiration…and as our leaders hawley and david move forward, more and more smiling souls are adding their words! You guys are more like lights –moonlight, floodlights…than “bloggers”!
I was thinking the other day on the “ace in my pocket” — and tho the bad dreams of my younger years were often populated with a particularly evil dance teacher and an art teacher who wrote grades (B-) ON my artwork… I did have a brilliant drama teacher in middle school who unlocked in us all the ability to improvise and find our own comic personalities.
I remember performing as Mammy Yokum in L’il Abner. I had a fever of 102 and it was a big deal that I was even on the stage. The guy playing Marryin’ Sam had sworn at a teacher the day before the performance, and had been expelled, so Mr. Higgins the drama teacher had to play his part. The gym teacher/ choreographer was just chomping at the bit to play mine, should I succumb to my fever. My mother was in a pickle about what the right thing to do was here, but thank goodness, she let me go on. The rule was you had to BE in school at least half the day of a performance, so three teachers had kindly let me put my head down in the back of their classes til the clock struck noon and I could go home and rest til curtain time. As the curtains parted, I remember noting that the “mean girls” of the school were all seated in the front row. I was dimly aware at a few points during the play that they were incapacitated with laughter.
To my surprise, the next day the whole gaggle of those cold mean girls came up and told me how hilarious I was — and were still laughing, remembering my character. It was as if the performance skated above all the baloney between us, that somehow it and I was to be respected. It really changed right then, for the rest of middle school, what had been a distracting and troubling dynamic. Art reigns supreme… and the best thing was witnessing what could be accomplished in that huge group effort. It was inconceivable that I’d let a mere fever get in the way of doing my part. I carry that respect for the power of a community, and the desire to always work within one, with me always.
2 Elizabeth Stephenson // Feb 10, 2008 at 12:20 pm
Hawley Hussey IS a fever—of the VERY BEST kind! She lights our fire to go beyond “normal” limitations to co-create limitless possibilities, fertile new theatres where we can offer our unique gifts & talents–gifts & talents which surprise even ourselves when they blossom!!! Hawley’s pockets are filled to overflowing with “Aces” which she more than generously gives away to anyone willing to see & use their value!
3 Geneve // Feb 10, 2008 at 5:10 pm
The Ace in my Pocket. I love how both ‘Ace’ and ‘Pocket’ are capitalized. I have found that the Ace is renewable and changeable. So is the Pocket for that matter. As an art teacher with Hawley as my mentor ( how lucky can I be?), the ability to find an Ace anywhere at anytime is often the key to connecting with a student, a whole class, another teacher, or even my own intentions and goals. The best thing is when I can help a student find their own Ace and to see it as a treasure. I am also learning that recognizing our own value is the ultimate Ace, whether it is through the eyes of a great teacher, or by expressing ourselves through movement or music or sculpture. We each possess infinite, sparkling Aces and Pockets!
4 Jean-Marie (Flack) // May 27, 2008 at 9:46 pm
I have vivid memories of this woman that go way back…and am filled with joy that she is who she was all those many years ago.
An amazing woman in so many ways.
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