Category Archives: drawing

Shedding Skin 3

We talk of history repeating itself, and I think it’s meant as a negative statement. As in, “when will you learn” NOT to do something. Mistakes happen again and again; heads hit the same wall to no avail. Nations go to war at one end of the spectrum and children rebel against parents at the other end.

When I did or said certain things growing up, I was “just like Heather,” my adventurous, independent 1960s auntie who never married. She told me once, “You can be lonely in a relationship too.” Oddly, I let everyone down when I married and had a child. Now who would they live through vicariously?

History is history.

When the stars realign and the situation seems pretty familiar, it’s actually the present offering new opportunities. Shedding the past to receive a new present. To accept and digest the present–not throw it all over the place in bloody pieces to create more harm. It’s been a privilege to participate in relearning the history of the land that I have always called home.

Shout out to Kaleidoscope Theatre! https://kaleidoscope.bc.ca/shows/frozen-river/

Recently I read the play Frozen River [Nikwatin Sipiy] by Michaela Washburn, Joelle Peters and Carrie Costello … I hope to see it performed locally and won’t spoil the brilliant end. But the character in that play who really caught my attention was Moon. Always there in the background, above the actors, watching, commenting. Cycling through seasons and decades–different each time, but given time, similar. Our shared past no matter how we try to deny it.

It feels like we are at so many intersections that require choices. Frozen River gives hope in so many ways.

My family found a new refrain to replace “Just like Heather.” “Why are you so sensitive?” I always shrugged: It’s what an artist is. It’s what the moon brings to the world–the mystery of seeing into the dark, illuminating it, and coming out with a story.

Will we shed old skin and emerge new and perhaps more vulnerable? That’s how it feels to publish writing. Putting artwork out. Staging plays. Sometimes courage is needed to just to voice compassion in a room where thick skins and sarcasm dampen conservsation.

Home: 10 Short Stories is a collection of stories covering a cycle of seasons. Threads of toughness shimmer through difficult times. It’s a book for the settlers here, that we let our hearts be brave.

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Two Inch Square Book

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Still Life, Pen and ink, 2″ x 2″ Laura Wythe

It was a gift from another student in a drawing class. A tiny hand made book with blank pages of handmade paper, and the cover a Guatemalan weave. What a joy! I knew I’d fill this book from the first page to the last, and I did.

For years, I took the bus. That’s a study in waiting, taking busses in my city. The two inch square book was a perfect fit for any sized purse or pocket. I carried a Staedtler pigment liner, 0.3 which never bled on the rough porous paper, or ran out. While waiting for the bus, a friend, at the doctor’s, or on a lunch break, I’d sketch.

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Waiting at the Market, Pen and ink, 2″ x 2″ Laura Wythe

It took a year to fill the book. I found that the ink bled through the pages, so I used every second page as an opportunity to the connect the dots and get abstract.

And the scenes or objects I sketched quickly took on a stylized look, inspired by wood block prints.

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Deck chairs on Bruce Street, Pen and ink on handmade paper, 2″ x 2″ Laura Wythe

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Sketch diary made in Guatemala, 2 inches square, 2011-2012, Laura Wythe

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