I was fortunate this year to be invited to participate in the 2022 Voice & Vision Collaboration (VVC) in Airdrie, Alberta. This is an art and writing pairing project with fourteen writers and fourteen visual artists, each exchanging their work. Writers presented a story or poem, no longer than 250 words, and were randomly partnered with an artist. Artists took inspiration from the writing and created their response artwork. The artist also provided one additional artwork to the writer, who in turn, created their response piece.
The process took place between May and early July. Partners met in August to share their creative work. Everything was sent to graphic artists for reproduction into a Voice & Vision 2022 book, published in September (copies available at the Airdrie Public Library).
I was paired with Anita Schill, an Airdrie artist. She was also new to VVC. Her response art, Remnant paid tribute to my writing piece, Reflection. I was delighted with the results. I too found inspiration from her work, Entanglement, and I wrote, Tangled.
Below are my fictional entries, and Anita’s art (printed here with permission).
Reflection
©2022 Patricia L. Atchison. All rights reserved.
I climb up into the attic, stuffy with a billowing fog of dust. It rises and tickles my nose, making me sneeze. A circa 1800s setting greets me, sepia-toned, with huge cedar chests carelessly placed.
I trace the etchings on one of the wooden trunks before tugging the latch. It creaks open with argument. A mohair teddy bear and antique doll lie on top of colourful checkered tablecloths and quilted bedding.
A beam of sunlight shines through the attic window when I place my hand on the teddy bear. A memory plays in my mind of a young woman sitting in a rocking chair, holding a little girl on her lap. The light reflects against the soft blond curls framing the woman’s round face. She reads a dog-eared book to the child whose pudgy fingers fidget with the edge of the stained apron her mother wears.
I shift my gaze toward an antique dresser where a mirror sits crusted with dust. It invites me over for a closer look. I swipe across the glass to remove some of the grime.
My reflection of grey hair, and a face wearing wrinkles from frowning too much, stares solemnly at me. Beside me stands the little girl, her image one of innocence and youth. I slide an arm around her shoulder and pull her close to my side.
While sunlight plays across our features, we both stare into the mirror, mourning each other.
Patricia’s Response:
Tangled
©2022 Patricia L. Atchison. All rights reserved.
Dirt washes over my hands as I dig a hole with the trowel. “Are you ready?”
Lacey’s short legs teeter when she squats and picks a lily bulb out of a bag, her smile wide, infectious. Joy shines in her almond-shaped blue eyes.
I swallow my emotion, accepting the bulb presented as a precious gift. She watches me plant it, tamping the soil.
“Agin, Gama.”
“Again?” My cheeks spread with a grin at her pronunciation of Grandma. I reach under her arms and pull her onto my lap. The trowel fits into her palm, but she drops it.
“Let’s use our hands instead.” I show her how to make a hole with her fingertips.
Lacey’s smile evaporates, replaced by an angry frown. She wiggles off my lap and scoots toward the bag. Her mood changes, like a light breeze turns into a brisk wind. She lobs a bulb at me.
“No, Lacey.” I hide my disappointment.
She lifts the bag, shaking it up and down. Bulbs fly everywhere.
“Gama, agin.” Her cry startles a bird off a branch.
“Not now, my Sweet.” I’ll finish it later.
My heart and mind are a tangled mess. At five, Lacey challenges me more than my other grandchildren. It will be a blossoming adventure to take care of her special needs. I’ll watch her bloom as she strives to find light growing through the tough soils of life. My little Lacey will reach for the sunshine spreading beauty in her own unique way.
Thank you for reading…