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Dear Sister Artist, Writer, Reader,
Please accept our invitation to a buoyant celebration of the completed publication of Waves: A Confluence of Women’s Voices, A Room of Her Own’s digital anthology.
Savor the ways in which we have each been a voice answering a voice standing on the shoulders of other female voices across time.
Cross the threshold, shoulder to shoulder. Paint a new world where our room is the waves.
Our call is open and our invitation is free.
April 20, 2024
11am – 1pm ET
ticket info to come | zoom-enabled
If you believe in the impact of women artists’ and writers’ interior lives and experience, please join our campaign to ensure the longevity of this voluminous project.
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Waves: A Confluence of Women’s Voices cover art by Kristi Sheffield Sanford
As a girl, I was neither expected nor permitted to study numbers. Not arithmetic. Not the War of 1812. Not the Wars of the Spanish or Austrian Succession. Not the American Independence. Domestic conflict was as intriguing as international relations. All objects proper nouns. I was gifted fifteen years of folding linens and laundry before graduating to a live-in governess position. With two years of passive language study, I learned the difference between consonants (not continents or continental divisions) and vowels (doweries distinct from destinies, I think). I actively consumed all portions of literary instruction (seized synonymous to sensibility for some). Each letter a layer of (y)earning with hidden earning possibilities – (l)earning skills, knowledge, and tools to do and become. I’d wrap my knobby fingers around my pen and dip its feathers in heavy blue ink, like the leaning tower of porcelain bowls in the metal basin, I’d think — if the history of a woman’s way to words isn’t something about which to write (and right), then how could things ever change?
“On Wells and Wellness: A Tribute to Amelia Jenks Bloomer” by Jennifer Schneider
The limit of the endless beauty that colours spoke of is infinite.
“Air in the Waves” by Anonymous