Leisa A. Hammett

Grayton Beach Artist Brings Her Pearls to Music City + Blog Giveaway!

Nashville? It's a city with soul. Grayton Beach, Florida? A lil' beach town with heart. And the two often find themselves in rhythm with one another. Not sure why exactly. There seem to be a lot of Nashville expats down on this sweet spot along 30A. And, Nashvillians who appreciate laid back, friendly vibe, slower pace, low-development, gravitate to Grayton for vacay. So that means there's an all around artsy-ness down there, which extends beyond the good music going down. And down in this sea side spot is where I met Artist Allison Johnston Craft a year-and-a-half ago.

Details below on how you can increase your chances of sporting an Allison Craft Designs leather and pearl-style necklace. (Not necessarily one of the exact designs pictured above.)

Keeping with the theme of the bigger city and her little sister, Craft lives in Grayton but sells her beautiful pearl-and-leather necklace designs in Nashville's upscale Ibiza, among other venues. This Thursday, March 1, you can meet the artist and attend her trunk show at Ibiza from 10-5. I was amazed when I vacationed fall break this year to see how the collection of South Walton County's artist of the year had blossomed. Her designs continue to sparkle in their originality, color and boldness. Her trunk is sure to be over-stuffed for this Nashville show.

Allison is donating a necklace to one "Journey with Grace" reader! Here's how you can increase your chances of winning an  Allison Craft Designs necklace: 1) Leave a comment below. 2) Social sharing is grand and so is a Pin. 3) Just come back and tell me in one comment per share site where you passed along this great giveaway. Do this before next Tuesday, March 6, to become eligible to win one of these cool necklaces. The winner will be chosen at random and announced here on Friday, March 9. Good luck!

'JWG' Peeking Back & Forth at Oscar

Film is art. Moving pictures have the power to transport us away from our daily lives. They can illuminate our spirit. Tickle our funny bone and even inspire us. And since "The Journey with Grace" is in part a blog about art--and isn't all of Life art? I think so--movies deemed worth your watching are reviewed here, which also means there's often a disAbility angle, too....So, I jus' have ta cluck and gloat a wee bit that at least three of my choices are up for Oscar grabs at Sunday night's Academy Awards hoo-la. (And, no, I won't be watching the stars preen.) But, Monday morning, I'll listen to NPR and read about it and maybe spread a few more feathers here.) Below are links to past posts, which correspond to the nominations. So! The nominees, covered on "The Journey with Grace," are (drum roll, please):

Best Picture:

Midnight in Paris, ("Midnight in Paris: a Movie for Artists, Writers, Travelers")

Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close, ("Two Current Movies Feature Asperger's")

The Help, ("Hurry to the Theater and Don't Forget Your Hankie!")

Best Actress:

Viola Davis, The Help, ("Hurry to the Theater and Don't Forget Your Hankie") Davis also had a very different, endearing role in Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close, ("Two Current Movies Feature Asperger's.") To the critics chastising Davis for her role in The Help ("'Role of Maids Dusts Up Trouble for The Help",) respectfully, I submit: it's acting. It's period. It's history. Leave the actress alone to perform her exquisite art. I understand--best I can--the pain. But there's some sad, humbling lessons to be learned and reminded of among the white viewership and we can learn that in part through her brilliant and apparently daring performance. Peace fingers!

Glenn Close, (my double, wink-wink...so I'm told,) Iron Lady. Okay, I didn't review it here, but I did see it and it was brilliant.

Best Directing:

Midnight in Paris, ("Midnight in Paris: a Movie for Artists, Writers, Travelers") Gotta love him, that whacky-whacked-out Woody Allen!

So, who do YOU predict will tote home the golden statue?   

Hardscrabble Rural Vet Turned Novelist, William Gay, Passes On

He was one of the most hard-scrabble-looking writers upon whom I've ever laid eyes. Numerous times over the years, I saw acclaimed rural carpenter turned novelist William Gay sit on author's panels at the Southern Festival of Books and not say a whole lot that I can remember. I *think* he may have mentioned once that literary notoriety had not changed his life much and that he still lived in a trailor.  His presence was most humble, as if he felt he didn't belong there. But belong he did. More so than most anyone else there. My friend, author-philospher Bill Peach, whom I hold in most high esteem, wrote the following about Gay who died Thursday:

"William Gay, the Hohenwald, Tenn., native who late in life earned a following as one of the most acclaimed Southern writers of recent years, was reportedly found dead last night from heart failure at his Lewis County home. He was 68.

"A Vietnam veteran who served in the Navy, Gay had been writing since he was 15 years old, supporting himself with carpentry and drywall-hanging jobs as well as a stint on a television-tube assembly line. It wasn't until 1998, however, that he published his first short stories, followed by his prize-winning first novel, The Long Home, in 1999.

"Its celebrated follow-up, Provinces of Night, made Gay's literary name as an heir to the tradition of Faulkner and Flannery O'Connor. Of his three published novels and collected short stories — with a fourth novel, The Lost Country (excerpted here at Chapter16.org), as yet unpublished — Gay's works were twice filmed.

"Gay's hard-living reputation only enhanced his literary mystique. He traveled often, however, and was scheduled to do a reading Monday at Lincoln Memorial University with fellow writer Sonny Brewer."

 

Wow.

Read Serenity Gerbman's remembrance at Chapter16.org.

Provocateurs, Entrepreneurs @ Vanderbilt Kennedy Center, Part II

Artist Jerry Adams's dreamy watercolors first grabbed and held onto my heart in 2008 at a very special  exhibit. "The Artist's Voice: A Tennessee Exhibition Featuring Artists with Disabilities" bubbled up from a dream turned vision to a committee (of which I was a member) to the Conte Community Arts Gallery at Nashville's Frist Center for the Visual Arts where it hung in glory and then faced a sad, unfortunate death, failing to ever tour nationally as it was once envisioned.

 

Jerry Adams was but one artist whose work was discovered in the juried show of adult artists from major cities to Tennessee's rural nooks and crannies. Artists Yvette Renee Parrish-Cowden and Massood Taj, then both of Full Circle Art, took their magic artistry of love and encouragement on the road, statewide, teaching the workshop-attending artists with disAbilities how to compile a portfolio and market their work. Even four years later, I am struck at the oddity and the sadness, as I judge it, of that sentence. Like the rest of life that so many take for granted, artists with disAbilities are often disadvantaged, lacking supports and services to help them integrate fully into our society and do many of the things that others take for granted. For the duration of the project, "The Artist's Voice" helped spotlight the deserving Tennessee artists' talent.

Fortunately, Vanderbilt Kennedy Center, a national University Center for Excellence (UCED) and the first Intellectual and DD (developmental Disabiltiy) Research Center, established in a network of centers by President John F. Kennedy, continuously focuses on the work by and about artists and individuals with disAbilities in their lobby area gallery. Last week "The Journey with Grace" profiled currently featured exhibition artist, photographer Matthew Drumright. Painter Jerry Adams shares the current show's gallery space with Drumright.

 

Adams is driven by his passion to create art, but has little motivation, according to his website, for public accolades. Still, like all artists, he wishes to make his artistic endeavors a viable enterprise. Yet, with the hurdle of cerebral palsy, his challenges in this task are magnified as the disAbility impairs his motor skills.

His works of deep color and fluid motion are a kind of personal salvation for Adams, who has spent most of his adult life in segregated communal living environments where personal career gain is often out of reach. (Take note, special needs parents, please, about what you really wish for your children's future living).

Persistently painting since 1980, Adams has gained respect and recognition by private collectors and has been featured in exhibitions at Nashville International Airport's Arts in the Airport program, Vanderbilt University, The Tennessee Performing Arts Center and First American Bank. He received the 1993 Metro Davidson County Disabled Artist of the Year award, among other various honors. 

Go, Jerry, go. Paint, Jerry, paint....Your gift is an inspiration and a gift to eyes, heart and soul. Beautiful. Beautiful. Thank you, Vanderbilt Kennedy Center. More about Adams and Drumright's work, including photographs of the Vanderbilt show, here.

Above credits: photo, Farris Poole; painting by Adams, entitled "Subterranean Divide, Part One."

DisAbility Dialogues, Part I: Things People Say

So call me "Cougar." He was pretty easy on the eyes. He wore tall, caramel-colored boots. Skinny-legged jeans tucked in. By his side was a high-end, sleek model motorcycle helmet. His lap-top shouted his renegade politics: bumper stickers brandishing "Ron Paul" "REVOLUTION" (with the fourth through sixth letters spelled backwards--LOVE,) and "Legalize the Constitution."

I noticed the young man glancing over at Grace and I but I assumed it was to see if we registered the volume of his  visual-political messages....Shoulda known. Of course. Can't go out in public with my teen daughter with autism without getting noticed. But, that's okay....

 

This is what happens to me, on purpose, when I get my haircut every six weeks. I don't try this at home. Both do's by Lunatic Fringe, Franklin, Matt Fine, owner and photographer. More here, at some point, about our disAbility mother-daughter day there. The purple hair is temporary. The disAbility, not. Purple hair or not, we get looks.

 

I was surprised when he approached me later and commented about the large bling-y bee-shaped broach I wear pinned to my puffy black down vest. His belated and beloved grandmother always wore broaches, he said, adding he'd not seen anyone wear one since she'd passed on. And then the subject turned to Grace. Really, I don't mind inquiries about her differences. I am not ashamed of my daughter's disAbility and I seize most any opportunity to educate. Too often, however, the questions turn to unasked-for-suggestions. And most often, the suggestions are not even buffered by inquiry first. And though the convo about the broach with the young man had chipped the ice, this suggestion was the most "out there" I'd heard in 15 years on the journey.

First question: Did Grace had Multiple Sclerosis? "No. She has autism." Then he proceeded to say autism and MS were similar. [Not.] He proceeded, stating that he wanted to share something that worked with his friend recently diagnosed with MS. Drum roll, please:

Marijuana....

OMG. Really? Give pot to my 18-year-old because she has autism? That's the most bizarre thing I've heard yet, I said.

"Really?" He responded back.

Actually, I realized later that I had heard of medicinal marijuana for MS. I support medical usage. I've had my share of friends who used the drug recreationally, too. I don't judge that. Honestly, I have never touched the stuff. (It's illegal and my old Southern Baptist goody-two shoes of yore apparently still fit.)

Once upon a time I might have walked away from this exchange pissed. (And, underneath anger is almost always hurt.) But, I maintained a calm inner space in his presence and spoke my truth: "Actually," I replied, "I don't consider disAbility a bad thing." He cocked his head slightly, appearing a bit curious. "My daughter and others like her can teach us many things: tolerance, servitude, joy, diversity. And," I added, "we can choose to look upon people of differences as broken or see the gifts that they bring us. I believe part of the Divine plan in my having been gifted a child not only with autism, but autism on the severe end, was so that I could use my gifts to help her realize and demonstrate the beauty of her own, one of which is her artistic ability."

I don't think that was the response he expected. And instead of anger/hurt, I chose to view his suggestion as well meaning. (And quite entertaining.)

So, pot and autism, huh? Come back next Wednesday for the weekly autism/disAbility feature on "The Journey with Grace," for "DisAbility Dialogues: Things People Say, Part II." I'll share some other things I've been offered up by well-meaning passersby, plus some from a community of mothers who also have special needs kids. It gets pretty interesting. And downright incredulous. And sometimes it's received as greatly insulting.

My. The things people say....

*I've since learned, which really doesn't surprise me after all these years, that pot is being used by some in the autism community. Again, it's not for me to judge another person's choices. Here's two "Journey with Grace" blog posts that skim such issues: "Jaded: Vantage Point from 15 Years on the Journey," and "Take Your Cure and Shove It" And upon further reflection, I recall our beloved former pyschiatrist, who no longer resides in the mainland U.S., and who is a renegade himself, told me about cannabis as a promising autism treatment. The autism "bio-medical docs" don't know what to make of me. Fact is, I've used integrative medicine for 25 years, more that many of them have been studying it--largely on their own post medical school. And, yet, I am slow to embrace a good chunk of it as applied to autism because of my philosophy on the disorder, et cetera....As they say in Facebook land: "It's complicated."

The rest of the series:

The Things People Say, Part II

The Things People Say In Church, Part III

Whitney Houston's Death A Reminder of Our Humanity

 

Saturday, much of America apparently perched on their couches and watched Whitney Houston's funeral via television or live-stream internet. The Facebook community was stacked with commentary. Though I'm not a fan of celebrity, I believe in the importance of knowing the pulse of popular culture. And, I admired Houston's flawless beauty and incredible voice.

But, many of the comments emanating from the ethers of Facebook seared my spirit. Our culture is so quick to elevate. So quick to tear down. We deify our celebrities, causing us to forget the reality of their humanity. Blinded by the spotlights and sparkle of fame, we choose to hold them higher than our own selves and also from our media tethered perches, we impose upon them impossible standards. And, then, we crucify them when they fail, all the while forgetting that they are just like ourselves. Human. Vulnerable. Fallible.

I love my alma mater--a small Baptist, East Tennessee college, which, when I attended, had a student body less than 2,000. A former campus minister from those days posted on his Facebook wall a tribute from a D.C.-based Baptist Pastor, Elizabeth Evans Hagan, who pens a blog entitled Preacher on the Plaza. This exceptional young woman, who was born two years before I graduated, wrote in a post published Saturday, "Whitney Houston Took Us to Church." She noted that the televised experience demonstrated how (my words) real church, loving church, can hold space for, among many things:

"Those who have made some bad decisions in their life (i.e. Whitney) being celebrated for the good within them, not the bad because hey, we have all messed up in one way or another! (Who are we to throw stones?)"

I take it a few notches further and choose not to even label her choices "bad" or "messed up." Stay with me here a moment....In the recent events in my own life, culture would clearly entitle me to brandish labels of "messing up" and "bad." Instead, I tongue-in-cheek classify my experiences as "less than optimal choices." For, all our "bad," "the messy," the "less than optimal choices" hold great power to help us  WAKE UP! And CHANGE! To do differently whatever is not working in our lives. Houston had that choice and I do not condemn her for not going there. It appears she had great remorse and that she tried and her decisions were branches in her journey....

In our cultural iconization of celebrity, we forget that like us, they, too, are on a Journey. The. Same. One. As. Us. AKA: Life. And what we all need for ourselves and for our lives is...The "C" word. The biggie. The one of which we have in such short supply in our current culture: COMPASSION.

The loving tributes that resonated with me throughout the week were those that bestowed this compassion. As Spirit Coach and friend Gregory Fisher noted about Houston's interview with Oprah approximately three years back, she got a glimpse of her power if maybe only for a brief while. That power that, again, all of us, as creations of God, have in common--personal, God-given power. Also like myself and so many of us, she also forgot that she had that power within. And you know the rest of her story, which ended in her tragic, premature death. What would the rest of her life had been like if she'd lived on like the greats of her sisterhood, such as Aretha Franklin who graced Houston's funeral? We'll never know.

But...what we can take away are the lessons that in her/our shared frailty, we have a connection to a divine, strengthening source within us. And that, again, compassion--what the world needs--starts from within our own human hearts. Those human hearts that beat together in our global world....Furrowing her brow, leaning over and lowering her voice--meaning serious business--Mother would say to me when I was growing up, "When you point your finger at another there are four pointing right back at 'cha." So, in our rush to judge--which means me, too, here--we forget that we have and that others also have thumping, human, life-blood-coursing hearts that desperately need the resicutation of love, kindess, understanding and compassion.

Thump-thump....

I believe NOTHING. Nothing is ever in vain. Houston left her earthly life of pain for someplace better. Her death, however, holds lessons for those of us who remain behind....

Holiday Weekend Bonus: Movie Therapy

Add: Three whales trapped in ice + Drew Barrymore + a sprinkle of romance + a douse of suspense = A movie that can't go wrong. The previews for "Big Miracle" proved it would be a good family movie for February. And, it delivered all this plus more. My friends, Grace and I laughed, we held our breath, we cheered. This is a feel-good movie, based on a true story. It is also a story of Hope. The time was 1988, the iron curtain was beginning to fall, the Soviet Union was disolving. The effort to rescue three gray whales trapped in ice coalesced formerly opposing forces--tree hugging Green Peace activists, oil companies, Alaskan Inuits, village insiders, outsiders, and two enemy nations, plus more.

 

 

 

For weekend movie therapy, check it out. But note that true to Hollywood's turn-em-over quick philosophy, it's going fast as it'd already left Nashville's main theaters and was showing only deep in the burbs. It's also one that can wait on the Netflix que or a future Red Box trip. Either way, it's worth viewing. You'll leave with a happy heart.

Lastly: Pay attention to a vintage news clip at the end for a cameo appearance of the woman who made famous the line "I can see Russia from my house." (Wink.)

Enjoy.

Provocateurs, Entrepreneurs @ Vanderbilt Kennedy Center, Part I

 

This beautiful image:

 

...was taken by this young man ~

 

Matthew Drumright, above, has been taking pictures since he was age 10. His talent was nurtured by a teacher who "gets it." Marti Proffit-Strueli is also my daughter's art teacher and one of the main reasons I transferred Grace out of her cluster to attend Hillsboro High School. It is a story of the difference a teacher can make in encouraging a students' dream. It is also the story of parents who listened and nurtured their son's talent, who believed, dreamed big and believed in their special son's big dreams.

Drumright not only believed in his dream, he followed it and works as an intern for Michael Gomez Photography in Nashville. Like many artists, Drumright also holds a second job to help support himself and his craft. His photograph, “Night Snowfall,” was on display in the S. Dillion Ripley Center at the Smithsonian Institute in Washington , D.C., as part of the VSA arts ”Driving Force” art exhibit. In 2005, VSA arts of Tennessee awarded him the Professional Artist Award. Matthew enjoys photographing nature, people, sports and special events but mostly capturing his nephews in those treasured moments.

A Special Olympics athlete since 1991, Matthew trains and competes in multiple sports. He has been fortunate to have been selected to compete in three Special Olympics World Games and Two Special Olympics National Golf Tournaments. He served as the official Healthy Athletes photographer for the 2009 Special Olympics World Winter Games in Boise, Idaho. As a Global Messenger, Matthew speaks to civic, corporate, school and church organizations about Special Olympics and how it has enhanced his life.

Provocateurs, Entrepreneurs is the current exhibit at the Vanderbilt Kennedy Center, in Nashville. The Center hosts four exhibits annually featuring work by or about people with disAbilities.

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To Matthew's parents and other similar special needs parents, I say thank you for lighting the way, blazing a trail that I and other parents of special needs artists can follow. You have gifted your sons and daughters, me, my daughter, and all who come in contact with your children's art. Bless you for thinking outside the box. The world is a more beautiful place because of the vision you held and encouraged.

Photo of Drumright: Michael Gomez, Gomez Photography, (who receives kudos for also thinking outside the box. We need more open hearts like Gomez).

I'm Not Sorry, Part II

In well-meaning moments of empathy, friends and acquaintances often offer up an "I'm sorry" for another's (sometimes assumed) pain. I wrote about that here, in regards to recent events in my Life. A Facebook comment about my daughter reminded me that, again, well-meaning strangers, even, offer up sympathies when our children's lives don't fit the model that society identifies as perfect or "normal."

Walking Radnor Lake recently, my daughter and a friend and I encountered a group of young adults with developmental disAbilities. We knew the group. Most were also members of a social organization to which my daughter belongs. Each young person in the way that they were capable, greeted my daughter, who in turn, expressed her happiness about encountering her friends with intermittent signs of a bashful ducked head and covered eyes; a big, bright smile; sweet, happy sounds and flapping her hands and rocking. As an observer, I wondered what others seeing the group might think. That may sound like I'm projecting, but as any parent of a child with a noticeable disAbility will tell you, seeing other people notice or stare at your differently abled child is just a given. It happens. Often. (See my 2008 "Journey with Grace" "Every Autism Parent Has A Wal-Mart Story" post.) Plus, there were passersby that day at the park.

But, sorry? No, seeing these young people was the height of unadulterated Joy. Oh, to be so free.

When "sorry" is offered up to our differently abled children, the point is missed. These children, these special individuals with perhaps "souls too large for their bodies" (an aboringinal belief), bring a purity, an innocence, an opportunity to serve, a tremendous chance to learn tolerance and abundant lessons to be taught.

Sorry? No, again. Yes, it's difficult. Again, hell, yeah! But, these lives different from our own cannot and should not be reduced to pity. No parties for pity here. I'm RSVP-ing: "No." Permanently. Instead: I'm hosting celebrations that I am so blessed to be so challenged and so stretched and so gifted with something so wonderfully different. In humility, I offer up: Thank. You. Thank you.

Just Had To...