Witness

 

If I didn’t have my camera to remind me constantly, I am here to do this, I would eventually have slipped away, I think. I would have forgotten my reason to exist.

Annie Leibovitz

 

Submit Your Art and Writing to WAVES

 

 

 

“HOME/Violet” by Marianne Murdock

 

This work is about: Watercolor of a woman done a long time ago. I now know that I was painting my grandmother, whose home I was in at the time, long after she died.

 

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Nothing had stopped [my mother] from creating, I realized. Nothing. Not raising ten children, poverty, not even the death of my father some thirty years before. I saw it clearly; her faith-filled, creative life had been her greatest masterpiece.

 

“Creative Legacy” by Mary Potter Kenyon

 

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“Women at the Center” by Dorit Netzer

 

This work is about: In 1995-1996 I was an art therapy intern and researcher at a women’s center, where I dedicated my time to facilitating self-reflective creative expression with groups of women, who struggled with challenging life transitions. This collection of portraits, taken from my journal, is brought together 20 years later to acknowledge the courage it takes to be authentic, as windows into intimate moments of vulnerable selves, unmasked.

 

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The Q: How does witness play a role in your art?

 

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As a child, I watched as he slithered into the Atlantic, his crawl accentuated by the high fly of his arms, an easy draw of the sea in his wake. The farther out he went, the quicker my heart beat. He would switch to a float, his body bobbing on his salted bed. I squinted into the Brooklyn sun and fixed my sights on the crown of his head, that tiny, bald spot, as he pushed out past the amateurs until he was all by himself in the silent waters.

“Do you see him?”

“Yeah, Mommy, I see him.”

 

“Seahorse (excerpt)” by Myrna Greenfield

 

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My art is to write what I witness. What I feel in my body. What I feel in my emotions. What I experience in my world. What I celebrate and what I mourn.

 

Therese Tappouni

 

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We pause our work,

Lift our heads,

scent the storm on the wind.

The time is now.

 

“Where Did the Wild Girls Go” by B Story

 

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“Text Painting of The Wild Geese, Mary Oliver’s Poem” by Nancy Cassell

 

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Author: A Room of Her Own

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