Writing Memory by Abbey Starling Nobles, Fourth Friday June 24, 2016

Walking into Art in Bloom Gallery on Thursday, my spirit was full of expectations: joy, light heartedness, and excitement. When I walked in, splashes of light entered in my eyes; my heart was full, free, and reminiscent.

After my grandfather passed away and my grandmother had to leave her home, I would practice the art of remembering. My young philosophy was that if I could remember each step in my grandparents home, they would live; memories never dying.

Elizabeth Darrow: “Adventureland,” “Flower Waltz,” “Growing Wild,” “Nocturne.” Somewhere around the gold flowered couch and the wobbly piano bench in the memory of my grandparents home is where I found myself in Art in Bloom. Above the gold couch was this painting of a man at the ocean in a storm looking for something. This dark and saddened scene paradoxically reminded me of Elizabeth’s works. It was not the subject matter in the pieces, but the representation of what I carried with me when walking into the gallery. The surface level notions that titillated my memory and experience; the physical size and colors used in Elizabeth’s works. My memory could almost take the old seafaring man off the wall above the well-sat gold flowered sofa and replace it with “Nocturne.”

Dumay Gorham: Walking up to the piano, the one my grandmother’s father bought for her sat a plastic seagull figurine. About one foot tall, the seagulls stood flying stationary on thin black rod one right after another flying up to the heavens overlooking a brown plastic cliff below them. Walking to the front of the gallery, there it was. I could have run to this metal work, picked it up in my arms, and cradled it like my memories.

Have expectations and let those expectations take ahold of you, waltzing you into a place where you are free to remember. Do not be afraid to remember the people, pain, uncaring joy, but also do not forget the art in things, the art of objects, the art of paradox, the art of falling victim to how memories survive.

Art in Bloom, thank you for filling me with ineffable joy. Thank you for reminding me to hold on tight to my memories: to go to sleep with them, rise with them, walk into life with them, ever on the lookout for how they continue to live.


Read more from Abbey Starling Nobles at http://thenoblestarling.blogspot.com

Contact Abbey at abbey.starling@gmail.com.


Nocturne“, Oil and Collage in Canvas, 24″ x 36”  by Elizabeth Darrow