Twelve writers and twelve artists were paired to create…
The stars aligned, serendipity struck, the universe conspired, and I found a new, 2024 penny, heads up, when I left the grocery store. I was back in Manzanita, Oregon, for the weekend, where I had spent the month of April and didn’t think I’d be returning until next spring.
When I said my goodbyes a short month ago, to the sea, the charming town, and the moody coastline, I made a point of slowing down to absorb as much as I could before I left. I wanted to remember the sounds, the smells, the slow melt of the sun into the horizon, each day more beautiful than the last, and the feeling of soft mist on my face as I walked out of a gentle rain and into sunshine. Those feelings were still front and center in my memories when I drove into Manzanita a few weekends ago, feeling conspicuous in my rental car, a 2024 Mustang, which was not my first or second choice. Still, I did choose it over the Camaro. The guy at the car rental counter in Portland thought he was doing me a favor with the upgrade, and I liked his spirit, but didn’t care for the car.
As for the alignment of the stars, they weren’t just aligning; they were in a conga line dancing around me. The timing was that good. There was another labyrinth walk on the beach, by the same artist who created the walk the day before I left, this time the day after I arrived. The rental house I had in April was available, and friends of mine from Boulder happened to be traveling in the area, and we were able to connect and swap travel stories on my deck. And the weather just happened to be perfect – sunny and warm in the afternoon and cool in the evening.
I returned because three written pieces I submitted in a competition were selected. I only submitted them after being encouraged, prodded, and not-so-gently pushed by my sisters to go for it, and so I did. Had they not been visiting me during my first week there, I might not have wandered into the arts center that they discovered, and I doubt I would have written three pieces to submit. Thanks, sisters. I returned to be present for the random pairing with a visual artist, who also had three submitted pieces that won. We will be part of an ekphrasis, the Greek literary form of art inspiring art, using both visual art and written words. I will choose one of the artist’s three pieces to use as a visual prompt for an essay, and he will choose one of my essays to inspire his art, a drawing in his case. The reveal of the art with words will be presented at the Hoffman Center for the Arts, which represents the northern Oregon Coast, in early October. I’m thrilled, honored, and challenged with this project and have looked deeply into the three drawings I have digital copies of, while searching for my inspiration. They have become etched into my brain. I have until July 31st to turn in my words. Along with feeling honored to be chosen, I also feel vulnerable and exposed when I think about another person going deep into my work, word by word and sentence by sentence, to find inspiration for his drawing, and wonder if he is feeling similar emotions as he thinks about doing the same when I study his drawings.
If I had the actual drawings, not just digital copies, I’d probably carry them around all day, arranging them on the table next to me. At the same time, I eat, then move them to the coffee table where I continually glance down at them throughout the evening. Digital copies are not the same as the originals, and I wish I could touch them for some reason. While waiting in line at the airport on my return flight back to Boulder, and other times I’ve found myself waiting, instead of scrolling, as most around me appear to be doing, I’m staring deeply into three drawings, looking for clues, words, and my story. The drawings are beautiful, evocative, well-executed, and oddly familiar to me in their content, which confirms that although the pairings were random, the artist with whom I’m working is exactly who I am supposed to be with. I’m glad I was able to make the trip to Manzanita and was able meet the artist face to face, rather than the Zoom option I was told I could use, given I don’t live on the Oregon Coast. I felt like I owed the artist a face-to-face meeting, and, of course, I wasn’t sad to return to the house on the beach with the beautiful view. The co-facilitators each drew a name from a hat, one for the writers and one for the artist, to form the pairs. There were twelve pairings. My artist happened to be sitting in the chair next to where I had left my jacket, while I socialized with the group before taking my seat. We were the last two names called. The first thing he said to me was that he was honored to be working with a good writer. I told him I appreciated the compliment, but given that he hadn’t read my work, his words seemed a bit premature. “It’s become more and more competitive every other year when it’s offered. Your pieces were selected because they were well-written,” he told me. His words humbled me and made me nervous because it felt like he had just raised the bar on expectations considerably. I only hope my words will stand up to his perceived words of praise.
I have no idea where I’m going with this, but I’m challenged, intrigued, completely absorbed, and scared enough that adrenaline has begun to weave its way into the process. And that feels productive, even though no words have hit the page…yet…