REVERB10: THE MEME STUDIO—A COMMITMENT TO THE EVOLUTION OF OUR MARRIAGE

Hallelujah for moments that are meaningful to one’s life and that serve as “MARKERS” to SIGNIFY CHANGE! In September 2010, my husband Chiboogamoo and I rented an art studio space TOGETHER at Sycamore Place Gallery in Decatur, Georgia, with a sincere desire to COLLABORATE using our distinctively different creativities. Length of Leaseà12 months!

We christened our studio space, “THE MEME STUDIO” as an experiment in our marriage. Because we forgot to have children and will not be passing on our “genes,” we are remembering ourselves in MEMES! That is, we are PROPAGATING OURSELVES by making art TOGETHER—the paleontologist and visionary artist! Here we ARE two strong bold individuals (HALLEUJAHTRUTH and CHIBOOGAMOO) in the equation: ME + ME = MEMEà to perpetuate units of cultural information in drawings, paintings and words!

Four months have already passed since the “defining moment” of signing the lease and moving in our lights, tables, and art supplies. In the EVOLUTION of our MARRIAGE in the MEME STUDIO we are still in the Precambrian! We are gleefully anticipating evolving in 2011!

Thank you REVERB10 for today’s prompt! Hallelujah for MEMEs and GOOD COMPANIONSHIP on the PILGRIMAGE! Dear Pilgrims SOUL BLOG with me by responding to the REVERB10 PROMPT for December 29^th: Defining moment. Describe a defining moment or series of events that has affected your life this year.

(This yellow trilobite with its trail is an example of one of our first collaborations! To make ourselves more comfy in our studio, we made a stencil of both a body fossil and trace fossil and spray painted numerous images in blue and yellow!)

THAT SOMETHING OTHER: THE MYSTERY OF THE HIJAB

Hallelujah to each and every one of us! Hallelujah for our differences! In recent years, as a teacher of international students, I have found myself intrigued when I’m in the presence of Muslim women whose faith suggests they wear hijabs. For me, a United States citizen, these head scarves seem exotic and their wearers from Saudi Arabia, Libya, U.A.E., Ethiopia, Iraq, Afghanistan, and Turkey appear mysterious.  Hijab fashion fills me with delight because each scarf expresses the personality of the woman wearing it.

 How is it that a yard or more of fabric intended to cover each woman’s hair, ears, neck and chest, can be expressed in so many different kinds of fabrics and patterns? The silks, cottons, polyesters and denims dazzle the eye in a complex of florals, solids, checks, and stripes.

In addition to choosing the fabric and pattern, each wearer of the hijab determines how the swath of material is negotiated at the forehead, around the ears and pinned at the neck. Some hijabs, which are worn loosely, come undone erratically and require constant supervision. With great periodicity, the wearer must flip the errant scarf back over her shoulder and tug at it unceremoniously under her chin.  Other hijabs are secured firmly in a no-nonsense way, the fabric agrees not to budge. This certainty of placement gives their wearers an aura of serenity and calm control.

 Each day my work culture becomes more entwined with these young women’s cultures.  I know that as women they are like me, but as hijab observing Muslims, they are different. The hijab they wear has become a metaphor for me, representing that which I can’t fathom—that which remains hidden. I do a lot of pausing around these women, leaning into the unknown, wanting to discover what IS there. I greet them. I sit down with them. I ask questions. I wait to see what topics they might nominate. In addition to the cultural and religious differences, the age difference—I am 52, and they are some 20 to 35 years younger—also stalls the conversation.  Instead of understanding the sublime, I am left with the material world and the small things I can observe looming at what feels to me to be the gates of mystery.

 

Occasionally, in the restroom at GT’s Language Institute, I catch a little glimpse, a small part of the woman under the scarf. She removes her hijab and adjusts her hair before pinning the scarf back on. How surprised I have been to see blond, light brown, or brunette hair instead of the black hair I expected to find. Would they be amused at my small curious observations?

 Needless to say, the prospect of what IS IN THE MYSTERY lingers with me. In my morning creations, often a girl in a hijab finds her way into my drawing, speaking to me of what I already know. I stay present to making the image, honoring its desire to emerge before me. This process makes me Hallelujah!

I HONOR MYSELF and EVERY ONE. Hallelujah for our differences. Hallelujah for the MYSTERY and to ART which allows me a way to contemplate the MYSTERY.

 That’s COFFEE WITH HALLELUAJH! Soul blog with me and tell me what is your understanding of the hijab, the mystery of differences and similarities. How will you honor yourself today? Hallelujah loves you!