Thank You Universe

I've mentioned in past blogs that I've been working on a book, but haven't shared too many details.  In those in between stages I've been reluctant to say too much, perhaps out of superstition as much as anything else.

The book is the final stage of a project that began six years ago called The Jewish Identity and Legacy Project.  It began quite by chance when I contacted Sholom, an organization that provides a continuum of care to elders across the Twin Cities. My purpose was to explore showing artwork in their facility. As we spoke, I found myself considering that Sholom was filled with stories and in an impulsive moment I blurted out how interesting it would be to interview elders and develop artwork on their stories.  They took me seriously and soon I did as well.  

I wrote and received grants for Sholom to fund the interview project and did a series of seventeen interviews. I videoed them, transcribed them and edited video. Then I did paintings on the stories and began to exhibit them and give talks, playing short video clips from the interviews. The theme was identity and legacy, but it also was an immigration story, encapsulating the stories of the three groups of Jewish immigrants who came to the US in the 20th century. The topic was well received and I enjoyed talking about it, weaving together history and story to bring it to life. 

 

Eventually I was ready to move on to new work and considered setting this series aside.  Over half of my interviewees had passed away and I had gone to a lot of funerals.  Something in me balked at ending this work.  It felt like yet another death. The interviews were in the Jewish archives at the university, where they were most likely to be seen by historians and archivists.  After talking widely about these stories, I realized that they were meaningful to the broader public. I decided a book was the final step in this project, one that shared history through the personal, the way I have often wished I learned it in school.

The process has been quite fascinating and I've learned a lot about myself along the way.  What I've learned is that there are many books one can write on a given topic, so first I had to decide which one this would be. It is not unlike paintings where you must choose a direction and let go of other paths, at least for the moment. They are small deaths of opportunity that we must accept in order to move forward.
 The path I chose was to combine oral history and artwork, each telling the story in complementary ways. 

In the process, I've learned a lot about my personal style, the kind of writing that reflects me. I read my work aloud and realize that I love the rhythm of words, that certain words feel natural to me and others don't. As I work with my editor, I am surprised at my clarity about what works for me and what doesn't. Things come out of my mouth like "that word is too foufou for me." I'm not even sure what foufou is, but it somehow describes something I'm not.  I like clean language, direct and uncluttered. When I met with the designer, I realized that I have visual preferences as well. Yeah, I know, duh, I'm an artist, of course I do. "I'm not a pastel person," I told them.  I seemed to be clear about what I was and what I wasn't.

I'm relieved to be through the final edit stage. I went through the video interviews again to make sure I transcribed them correctly and suddenly wanted to add things back in that I had let go of previously. It is a bit like when I clean out my closet and then dig back into the rejects, unwilling to let go.
 Now that I can no longer edit, I literally have dreams of errors that need correction.  Because the book also includes artwork, I reworked several paintings. It is not just words that consume me.

It occurs to me that everything we do builds on what came before.  Had I not been writing a blog and exhibiting artwork over the past ten years, I would probably not be doing this. Learning to put myself out there has been my biggest life lesson. Virtually every time that I hit publish, I had a moment of hesitation. Will anyone care? Is it too me focused? There is a moment before every art exhibition where I decide that several paintings aren't quite done, even as they are framed and hanging on the wall. There is risk in being public and it isn't always comfortable for those of us who are more inward in our nature.  It is much easier to stay in our private bubble, but we pass on so many opportunities if we do that.  My most rewarding experiences have come from taking that risk, as well as my most sleepless nights.

Writing is an in-your-head experience, unveiled upon completion, as is exhibiting artwork, another  experience where you take a risk in putting yourself out there. Public speaking is easier in some ways because you get immediate feedback. You can have a real-time dialogue and adjust as necessary. Of course the real-time nature of it allows for public fiascos also.


A big part of writing a book is marketing, something I think I will enjoy. I've already done lots of public speaking on this topic so I've had a chance to test market. I know I can share this passion of mine in a way that reaches others.  Just bringing this to print has required some marketing. I am publishing through the Jewish Historical Society of the Upper Midwest, an organization that works in this subject area and was an early partner in the project along with Sholom. It is an appropriate home that shares my objectives.

Along the way I wrote a successful grant to the Minnesota Historical Society to publish. As part of that process I had to have historians write critical reviews of my work and I was encouraged by their responses. It is easy to get so close to your own work that you no longer have the perspective of fresh eyes and thus quite affirming to have others find it of value.

There have been times in my life where I felt as if I was in sync with the Universe, doing what I am supposed to be doing, the right things for the right reasons. The Universe has a tell. Maybe that's on purpose so it can clue us in when we are on the right path. What happens is that lots of good things start to happen unbidden at just the right time. Lately I've been invited to speak at conferences, teach a series of classes, do exhibits of the work.    Opportunities to talk on related subjects are presenting themselves everywhere. Manna doesn't just rain down from heaven. You have to do a lot of work first to make it happen, but sometimes that work gets recognized with new opportunities and the timing does feel suspect. My pal, the Universe, is lending a helping hand. Thank you Universe.