Sunday, January 23, 2011

Pennsylvania Dutch Art: A Tribute




Sometimes I totally shock myself and that's putting it nicely.  Sometimes I feel like a total dummkopf (excuse my French) and that's closer to the point.

Once before, as I recall, I talked about the Dutch Masters and mentioned how embarrassing it was when late in life I discovered they were 'connected' to a country called Holland...The Netherlands…where I now live!

The same thing happened with the 'Pennsylvania Dutch' term I grew up with my entire life in America.  They lived in Pennsylvania...DUH...but the Dutch part never meant a thing to me.  Once I figured out the Dutch Masters, the Dutch part of Pennsylvania started to make sense.  Bingo, right?  Wrong.  And this is when language is so crazy-making.  The Dutch this time has nothing to do, technically, with Holland/The Netherlands...where I now live.  Instead, it's about Germany, whose language is Deutsch...becoming the folk-rendered 'Dutch' when Pennsylvania is added, especially when talking about their folk-art, tole painting.

Kath recently said "Obviously the obvious eludes me."

Now that we've got that settled, I present you with Pennsylvania Dutch
tole painting that has surrounded me the last year here in our Dutch apartment...not in Germany but in Holland.  And by a Dutch artist, not German or Pennsylvanian.  Every piece in the above collage has seeped into my blood as though it were my own heritage...painted by a woman I've never met but whose lineage feels like mine.  Remember all those times I've said I feel like I've come Home!

In fact, last week I found out
sister Ruth (in America) "just started tole painting, cultivating [her] dormant Swedish roots from Grandma Olive."  Tole painting comes not only from Germany but from Scandinavia as well.  My Grandma Olive passed on her artistic flare to our mom who in turn passed it on to us 8 kids.

Now, watch this:  my Dutch wife Astrid's grandmother was from Germany before she moved to Holland, here where Astrid's mother was then born in 1924.  Astrid is an artist in her own right, straight from her mother's line.  Suddenly our lineages have criss-crossed in more ways than one.  When you marry into this art and come from it yourself, it's...(are you ready?)...Double Dutch!  In a Germanic sort of way.

I write more about Astrid's mom (with a photo of her) at my
In Soul blog, in case you're interested.  I wish I had met her.  At least I have a sense of who she was, which I honor this month, 7 years since her death.  In this I honor all our moms who have helped shape who we are...even those we've married into.

Helena Jacoba Therese Wijdekop van Leeuwen
1 Aug 1924 - 17 Jan 2004

May you rest in peace.




Sunday, January 9, 2011

The Dancing Queens




You know how one thing leads to another, or in this case, one thought within six degrees from enough others till they all somehow connect.  Someone else watching the process might wonder, "Say what!"  But it all ends up making sense.

Start with this image of sheep from the Dutch countryside on Christmas Day.  The One Who Would be Dog is so sheepish.  Actually, so nonchalant.  She surely thinks no one knows what she's been up to.  HAHAHA.  Every time I look at her I laugh.  She seems the epitome of tomfoolery, monkey businees, mischieviousness, fun and daring-do all wrapped up in one.  I'm guessing she's the one who gets everyone else in trouble.  The ring-leader.

Then...on January 2 this new year, we just happened to turn on the TV in time to catch a delightful program about
ABBA, the Swedish singing group from the 70s.  As the songs played, Astrid and I both relived Mamma Mia, the first movie we saw together and one of my absolute favorites of all time.  How can you not watch Meryl Streep, Julie Walters and Christine Baranski and just be intoxicated over being "a woman of a certain age" with them! When they sing The Dancing Queen (from ABBA), who cares they're not seventeen anymore!

When I connected the myriad thoughts, I said, "That's who we are here at Vision and Verb.  We're the dancing queens!"

Remember, you're talking to a preacher's kid from a conservative background that didn't allow dancing or going to movies.  A preacher's kid who now watches 3-5 movies a week and dances every night after supper with her spouse.  Making up for lost time, I guess?  I love the irony.

You know me enough by now to know I'm not being careless or insensitive to the difficult situations many of us may still experience.  In fact, I've been writing this post simultaneously while feeling estranged from my family on the other side of the Pond.  I've needed connection to them and have reached out, especially during the holidays, but have felt it to be a one-way street.  In the gay community we often say "Silence = Death."  So I've been dying many deaths of late, even if I can come up with valid reasons for the void.

But here's where choice comes in and with this post I'm saying this is what I choose for 2011:  to be a dancing queen who's having the time of my life.  And why not!  As with photography, it's a POV... a point of view, a perspective, a way of looking at life.  Why not believe we all deserve the time of our lives.  Why not believe a good laugh will break the ice with enough silliness to bring the house down.  That house of brick and stone and in spite of our circumstances.  In spite of what the other sheep in the flock may think?!  Do I dare wish it for us all?  Why not!

You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life
See that girl, watch that scene, diggin' the dancing queen.