Collage of the Girl Living in Boxes Begins

I am starting....thought I'd share the process. The girl living in boxes in Morocco with shoes that need to be trimmed. Collage has been wonderfully freeing. I'll add more layers tomorrow.

Whoops! I decided to change the little girl completely after a visit from the daughters of Pastor and Pastora. They just came by with my wash. They are so nice! I love being with them.

I am really happy to have clean sheets on my bed tonight! The last 2 nights, I have been sleeping on some clothes because I

was waiting for the sheets to dry. Drying clothes here is quite like Morocco in that way! I am happier with the brightly colored girl. I think she is more readable.

Extreme Poverty by Tennis Club

Occasionally, after a long day at work, several of us would have a little dinner, a bit of pizza, at a tennis club close to the school. It was all so neat and tidy; the clay courts were pristine. However, just beyond the beautifully blue and inviting swimming pool at the same club, was a ghetto of sorts. The ghetto jarred us into the reality of the extreme poverty that exists in Morocco.

I can see a little girl heading into the box-like shapes of a house. The mad jumble of materials somehow make a home for a family. As I sit in relative ease in this really hot and humid house in Nicaragua, I am once again struck by the contrast of my living situation and those of others. I have a nice tile floor and wonderful electricity. I have running water and a flush toilet. But, I don't think this little one has these amenities. I'd like to honor her in a piece of art.....I'm thinking.

“. . . art lost its basic creative drive the moment it was separated from worship. It severed an umbilical cord and now lives its own sterile life, generating and degenerating itself.” (Ingmar Bergman)

I found this interesting quote early this morning. It is a favorite quote of a woman who wrote a book on forgiveness. I have to try to get her book when I am back in the states, but it seems, from the reviews, that she has written a good, balanced, first-hand account of her journey forgiving someone who killed her son. However, that is another story.

Two things strike me about this quote. One, when I am telling my students that God made them and loves them, that God made them with creative arts capacity as a reflection of Himself, then I am connecting them with their creator in a worshipful way. This is a good way to connect them with Him and honor Him for what He has done and who He is.

Two, the visual artist should not be excluded from the worship arts in our churches. Visual artists got kicked out, so to speak, and haven't really been invited back, save for a few churches worldwide who understand the connection between art and worship. Of course, each local body will have its' own expressions of visual arts, but churches should not be devoid of visual art in their corridors, sanctuaries and places of fellowship. So many just do not understand this.

I ask musicians if they'd like to be removed from making music in church, and they eagerly engage in that discussion. So, why the disconnect for visual art? I am praying my place of worship becomes more inviting toward visual artists, so my church family is a part of restoration for the visual artist and worship.

This sterile separation of art and worship can be seen in Moroccan mosaic art as well. The mosaic tiles seen at most mosques, in my opinion, are for the benefit of the worshipper to numb up, so to speak, and not really be cut to one's soul and make connection with our creator God. However, the art there does work in concert with tenants of the Islamic faith.

Just my musings today....

Coming Home

I was chatting via Facebook today with two dear friends, Jill (lower right), my former roommate in Morocco and Judy(left), my friend who understood my sense of humor, who are vacationing in Malaga, Spain. We have all taught in Morocco, and our escapes to Europe have made the time in Morocco extra special. I know friends who are in Portugal or Rome right now, as well, on Spring vacation. Those special weekends or even week away made the unusualness, the differentness of Morocco more manageable to our western sensibilities.

Funny how we are happiest with our normal, whatever that might be.

I'm thinking of immigrants fleeing North Africa at this time. It has to be really hard for them, understanding they'd rather be where their home is as well. Maybe they want a better life, and they are fleeing death. I imagine, however, they are lonely and longing for home. I hope they can come home, in their hearts

at the very least, to the one that made them, no matter where they wander. I am thinking and understanding a little as I travel from place to place, their journey is not an easy one.

I am currently making a series of collages, forming a puzzle, based on the parable about coming home- the parable of the prodigal son. The home-coming in the story is really about coming home to the Father's heart. One son does, one son doesn't.

I hope I can portray it well in the collages I make. To show I have come home to the Father's heart. To be continued.

Moroccan Archway Accordion Book

I finished up the book late yesterday, and I have taken a couple of photos of it this morning in the bright sunlight. I am happy the paint seems to have cured well, and I hope to share this book at home and in different parts of the world.

I am hoping to see if I can share it at lunch today with Pastor and Pastora. This has been a growing time for me in the collage art form. I am still learning about telling the essence of something through art. I believe you can click on the photo to see it in a larger size.

The Single Heart Tile

My next archway represents one of the many non-working fountains I saw around the area of Morocco where I was living. One really large fountain/archway is by the grande mosque in Casablanca. It is so large-scale that it is jaw-dropping at first. Many of us took photos there. The fountain is enormous, yet non-functioning. No water. Maybe it is turned on during a special day?

I have a photo of myself sitting on the ledge of this grande mosque fountain because the mosaic tiles make an enormous whole. The repetition of the tiles without subject matter are an artistic device. The Islamic faith does not want artists to promote any idolatry by using subject matter in artwork.

I look at the giant mosaic once again, and I think of the men I met chipping those tiny shapes into tiles with simple tools while sitting on the dusty floor of a ceramic studio in Fes. One man I met, chipping away, quietly handed me a heart shaped tile he had made. One single tile. He seemed to be turning away so as not to make eye-contact. To me, that lone tile heart is the very best of art.

I want to honor his act of kindness in this archway. Thank you for the single tile heart.

The Bakery and Beggars

I have made one of my arches in honor of the beggar ladies outside the bakery across from where I lived in Morocco. I also want to honor the bakery guys who were always so welcoming to Jill and me when we would pick out our pastries for the night. Jill and I had fun going to the bakery many afternoons after a hard day at work. It was a bit of solace. We loved trying to connect with the bakery guys and our beggars in broken French, Arabic and English. It was especially sweet when we would put our hands to our hearts and the ladies would as well. We were becoming friends.

Grand Archway

There are many, many archways in Morocco. Some are a part of large areas of Islamic worship. There, the archways are also decorated with mosaic tiles. They remind me of puzzle pieces in a way. They interlocked perfectly. But, I almost wish they would be random here and there to express some new found creativity.

Also, there is much that I have been thinking about for this piece. A student once shared that one has to cross a hair thin bridge to go to heaven. One's good deeds and bad deeds have an effect on how fast one goes across this hair thin bridge. The bridge is razor sharp. The student firmly believes she'll have to go across this bridge one day.

A Little More on the Medieval Door

I had very little time for my own art today because I was really trying hard to finish the mural in Los Cedros. However, I did add some brads or studs on the door I made yesterday. I wanted to suggest that medieval aspect. Good night! That's all for now....except....

I do want to also post a lovely Valentine I just received from a student in Morocco. It made my day extra special!

The Old Medina

The old medinas I was able to visit in Morocco were usually painted in white and a bright blue. In the old medina in Rabat, Morocco, there were many unusual doorways with the blue and white painted combination on the walls. I felt I had stepped back in time to the 6th or 7th century. The walls were irregular, the doors were medieval. There were many alleyways to walk down. Often one found dead ends, and beautifully tucked away gardens. What fun to visit this medina!

Primary Colors Archway

The photograph is not working out today, but I am putting this up as a place holder of sorts until I have better lighting. I did work on my third archway toward my archways book or set of collages. I might just frame them individually. I love the primary colors of this one. I am working from a picture my colleague, Gail, took while we were in Morocco.

I'll try to get a picture up tomorrow of all the archways so far.

Archway to the Beach

One day, when my friends and I were driving back from a trip to Aljedida and beyond, or something to that effect, we spotted a building that seemed to be ruins. What I noticed was a beautiful archway leading to nowhere save for a beautiful beach. Since buildings seem to rarely be completed in order for the owners to pay less in taxes, this was standard fare.

The archway and azule, blue colors captured my imagination. There was a bright beach in the distance with the hot, Moroccan sun overhead. The wind guided the surf and sand and grasses.

This collage is only painted papers.

Moroccan Archways

I am a tiny bit busy in Nicaragua (see my Creative Call Nicaragua blog posted on the right hand column of this blog), but I have decided I need to make a little of my own personal art along the way. So, I am pulling out the painted paper archways I made at Marge's house merely a week ago. I have very few supplies here, but I will see what I can come up with in another country far from home.

I remember seeing a man on a horse as we entered the Fes medina. Even though the archways are broad, it always seems a little claustrophobic in most areas of the medina. I tried to portray that in this piece. The medinas in Morocco are often fascinating with brilliant colored items for sale. The colors will not fade quickly from my memory!

There is also a mix of old world beauty and cheap knock-off Chinese goods. My Guess watch that I bought at one medina is an example of those wonderful Chinese goods. Where do they get so many name brand sports bags to sell?

Once outside the medina, I drink in the fresh air with friends, and we think we've done something epic by wandering through a Moroccan medina. And just maybe we have.

Calle Nueva

I am going to have to temporarily spin off from this blog for my trip to Nicaragua. I hope to establish a blog central to host all the trips I may be headed toward. For now, I am off to Nicaragua!  To be continued.....

Painted Turtles

While sleeping on the airplane from Connecticut to Minneapolis, I was suddenly, abruptly awakened by the burning thought that I needed to make turtles out of the painted papers I did with Marge, to bring to Nicaragua. I was literally awakened with such fervor that I almost got up to go make turtles. Yikes. Now, where would I go on this plane? If I was designing an airplane, it would have studio space.


Why was I wide awake? 
(Still small voice?) I looked over at my sleeping neighbor. Nope, wasn't him. OK, turtles. I'm on it. Soon.


Fast forward. Today, I do have to PACK in order to go to Nicaragua, but I am also pacing myself with some art-making and shopping with Lori. She has offered to help me get a little coffee maker for the home where I am going to be staying in Nicaragua. It should be a help to other teams who come down there to hang with folks in the village.


I'm trying to not be worried about tarantulas, scorpions and biting ants. I think there should be some sort of traps for these pests. I'm going to look for a "tarantula hotel" to trap those babies! Or at least google it.


I remember that lavender is distasteful to scorpions, I mention it to Bill and Lori upstairs, and Lori hands me an upside-down, drying clump of lavender from her closet. Another gift to bless all who enter the home where I am going. And ward off scorpions. Please. (Do I suck the blood out if I get bit?) I'll google that, too.

My painted turtles.

OK, back to the turtles!

Take-off for an Airport 5K

I have an hour and a half delay right at the start of my return to Seattle. Before take-off, there is no take-off, for at least an hour an a half. I try to get comfortable with this sudden change. I feel a slump, of sorts, in my heart. The next leg of the trip may be stressful with very close time frames to run/walk a 5K at the next airport. An airport that now seems even larger than the last time I was there. Maybe it'll be a marathon. I'll miss the flight, then what? You know how the mind works. I'll be sleeping on a series of chairs with stiff armrests that mess up my real ability to lie down. Buying odd magazines and nuts.

Then I settle my soul down a bit. I turn to God and pray, handing things over to Him. The One who knows me best. I plop into one of the white rockers they amazingly have at this airport, and I turn, in my mind, to my Master Craftsman, my Maker, who designed me in His mind and brought me, His artwork, into existence. 
Lord, I'm having a little stress here. Can you please see me through this one safely, so I get home? I pass the stress over to Him as well. My frame can't handle it. I rock a little, thinking of my grandson, Calvin, and comforting myself. I rest a little. OK, I can do this.

I guess I'll go check the boards and see what's next. To be continued.....


The photos are for all to see, in case you want to come to an airport that has some relaxing chairs. I have successfully refrained from buying a UConn T-shirt, a Yale T-shirt and lots of large candy bars.