Paint a New World Where Our Room is the Waves
. . . We release the assumption that there is only one destination for distinguished arts and letters to paint a new world where our room is the waves Our Anthem _________________________________________________________ Dear Sister Artist, Writer, Reader, Our December edition of WAVES presents the final section of Waves: A Confluence of Women’s Voices anthology. This transcribed Q&A between the luminous...
Journey Inward by Rebecca Scheckman
“Journey Inward” by Rebecca Scheckman In sum this work is about: Spiritual understanding of the self in the world and connected to everything. Finding a connection to the light within the body that is in everything, that is all things. ____________________ Share your response to this work, in any form, here Rebecca Scheckman Artist Statement: My creative identity starts with curiosity...
Newton’s First Law of Gravity by Elizabeth Cohen
“Newton’s First Law of Gravity” by Elizabeth Cohen The gravitational force between two objects is directly proportional to the pull of the earth. So put away that dream of an adopted daughter leaping into the sky of you. Put away your dream of swallows pulling you both into a night sky blinking with stars. Put away the dreams that she might fly back someday to the earth of you. Those swallows were just...
Olive Branch by Rosalina Scarfuto
“Olive Branch” by Rosalinda Ruiz Scarfuto The image depicted here is a fusion of contrasts; the softness of lace juxtaposed with the roughness of an olive branch … Together these elements form a bridge across the canvas unbroken in strength and elegance, much like women who have worked side by side in the olive groves over time … I offer here my olive branch … to rub out the roughness...
Waves Returning: A Q&A With Maxine Hong Kingston
WAVES RETURNING: A Q&A WITH MAXINE HONG KINGSTON Tuesday, August 11, 2019 (audio file 150811a – 25 m 51s) Transcribed by Tobi Harper Introduction, Kate Gale, Ph.D.: Maxine has been looking at all of your questions and talking to God and [laughter] she is back to talk with us about some of those questions and some other things she has on her mind. Could we all please have a big round of applause for Maxine Hong...
Our Hands Are Water Wings
Women make waves when . . . We release the safety of a select, bounded circle around our creative lives to open what is precious and valuable to us for engagement and expansion We release the injustice of a woman’s “duty” to claim the agency which sustains our creative wellbeing What will you release and reclaim? Download Our Anthem Join Us for Sisterhood Camp _______________________________ Our...
Clouds and Reflection by Kathleen Schlarb
“Clouds and Reflection” by Kathleen Schlarb “How seeing pebbles on a lily pad can be a metaphor for life.” ____________________ Share your response to this work, in any form, here Kathleen Schlarb Artist Statement: Kathleen Mannix Schlarb is an artist, poet, and writer. In the late nineties after raising her children, Kathleen began writing again and published her workas a...
Dragging Virginia Woolf’s Body Out of the Ouse detail by Christy Sanford
“Dragging Virginia Woolf’s Body Out of the Ouse (detail),” by Christy Sanford ____________________ Share your response to this work, in any form, here Christy Sheffield Sanford Artist Statement: Christy Sheffield Sanford, born in Atlanta, now lives in Northeast Florida. She has won a National Endowment for the Arts Fellowship in Poetry. She holds a masters degree in Creative Writing and Interarts...
Elegy to a Woman Writer, A Friend by Barbara Rockman
“Elegy to a Woman Writer, A Friend” by Barbara Rockman Walking, I think about luck, death and spring . . . Do two black cats crossing in front of a black clad walker cancel bad luck? Does the crimson yarrow delete the blue egg’s gluey smear? Does one daughter’s peace shadow or highlight her sister’s grief? My friend died this...
Writing the Dress by Barbara Rockman
“Writing the Dress” by Barbara Rockman “I have written up and down my sleeves,” she cried. “It begins at my wrist, saddens at the elbow, but the upper arm is where rain lifts and,” she sang out from the far end of the hall, “At the shoulder, birds flock from the island, the lighthouse lit to make wings whiten and silver. Across the collar, she and the birds and the drove of bleating...