Message in a Bottle
Some art is drenched in serendipity, emerges specifically from it, and is altogether informed by it. Such is the backstory of my mixed media series, Message in A Bottle. It begins with my father, a lifelong letter writer, who passed away at a time I was exploring new art mediums. In going through his possessions, I discovered that his father had also been a letter writer, and that an entire box of my grandfather’s wartime correspondence was suddenly available to me. I began to incorporate bits and pieces of both their letters into my work, carrying their words, feelings, and passions forward in time. On one such piece, a bottle shape emerged with my father’s writing located right where a label might be. A bolt of inspiration passed through me: this is a message in a bottle! And so this series began.
My discovery of an entire box of wartime correspondence written by my grandfather spurred this magical journey of personal and artistic discovery further. I never met my father’s father, so the nearly 100 letters penned to my grandmother during World War I, more than a century ago, inspired me to visually express some of the feelings, stories, and moments in his life as a soldier, while also reflecting universal themes of isolation, connection, and healing. The artwork is infused with tears of sadness and comfort. It draws from poignant turns of phrase, the materiality of ink and paper, and a certain transcendence of time. The visual metaphor of a Message in a Bottle seemed a perfect way to help tell his stories. I hope to capture the enchantment of this “message in a bottle” which has washed up upon my shores, and which transmits more than mere words on paper.
The SUB-SERIES
Take Me Out of the Blue: At the center of war is the human being, striving to survive against the bombarding threats and a harrowing sense of isolation. The truths of one antidote to war’s cruelties—real human connection—radiate out from my grandfather’s words, including when he wrote to his beloved “Goldie”: I need to hear from you more to take “the blue” out of me. Feeling isolated and yearning to reconnect are hardly unique to war—they can occur during a global pandemic or simply everyday life. try to reflect both the joyous dream of reuniting with a loved one as well as the “blue” of the longing that befalls all of us now and then.
Threads of Connection: My grandfather was a tailor and I, too, work creatively with fabrics and thread. This lineage of hands gave rise to the idea that his letters could dance with my fabrics, as if we are in conversation in the current moment. I am curious about this personal connection of hands, hearts and DNA, but also about the larger themes of belonging and love in one’s ancestral chain, perhaps even as a way to “heal backwards in time.”
Remedy: As a student of Eastern wisdom traditions, with an interest in the power of the mind, I was awestruck by one of my grandfather’s letters in which he “gave” my grandmother a “mental remedy” for coping with the intense emotional pain of war. In that letter he instructed my grandmother to fortify herself against her longing and anxiety by imagining the day they would be together again, envisioning them in eachothers’ arms, and then filling her heart with joy. He told her this was how he was coping. He found it, as he said, to be the best “remedy”for himself.
With the Colors: It has been eye-opening to see how strongly my grandfather, an immigrant who had fled persecution in his homeland of (what is today) Belarus, held his commitment and obligation as a soldier in the U.S. Armed Forces. To be an American was — and still is — such a privilege. The phrase “with the colors”, which was printed onto some of the US Expeditionary Forces stationary, is a solemn and heartfelt term used by American soldiers when speaking of the American flag.
