Source: Britain Street
The sculptures and this e-mail, led me to see her work.
Graag stel ik u ervan op de hoogte dat de beeldenserie „The Hour of the Wolf” opnieuw te zien zal zijn. In Museum Jan Cunen worden de beelden geëxposeerd op een etage van een gigantisch herenhuis, in de voormalige slaapvertrekken. Ieder beeld krijgt een kamer, en het licht zal verduisterd zijn om de sfeer te versterken. Het is een ideale plek om dit project te tonen, zoals ik het altijd in gedachte had. Je mag door de slaapkamers van de slapelozen dwalen en ze bekijken tijdens een heel intiem moment. Wat een troostende gedachte dat je tijdens een slapeloze nacht, niet de enige bent die wakker ligt..
Wilt u de opening bijwonen? Reageer dan snel, er is een beperkt aantal plekken: email@example.com
“The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls and tenement halls,” Paul Simon in the Sound of Silence, February 1964.
The yurt became the symbol of the Occupy movement, the “Q,” carrying with it the dreams and aspirations for an alternative to the greed that is imposed as the mainstream.
In February 2015 I saw Doris Salcedo’s Plegaria Muda, an installation at the Museum of Contemporary Art Chicago. Each sculpture was composed of two tables inverted upon the other with a layer of earth in between where live grass was shooting out from the inverted table on top.
The artist said that her research into gang violence in Los Angeles showed that victims and perpetrators share socioeconomic circumstances that lead to conditions of increased violence. Viewed as lesser in the eyes of society, these lives matter only to those who grieve for them, as for the grieving mothers of those in mass graves in Colombia.
Revitalization efforts transformed Washington Park into a park much like any other city parks as found in Toronto. In 2001, Cincinnati had one of the largest urban disorders in the United States.
It was warm. Before we entered the door to the place where we were to stay in Haarlem, a ladybug flew by to welcome us.
She came at summer’s end and needed a place to stay for a few days. She stayed for almost a year. And in my heart, forever.
She was quiet, mostly kept to herself, made sure to be helpful
with household chores and when she took her turn in the kitchen, it was often a memorable meal.
She was my mother’s aunt. She called her Tia Maria. All elder women are grandmothers. So we called her “Lola.” Lola Tia Maria.
We were told to be kind to her and to be specially quiet when she was quiet.
Sometimes, in the late afternoon when the sun begins to cast shadows that taller versions of ourselves call us to play from the ground, we could hear her sighing and singing a tune, and sometimes she would be dancing, as though waltzing with someone from the shadows, or somebody we could not see. Then she would start crying.
She was tall, with long hair she drew to a bun at the nape of her neck. She did not wear make up and she did not have any teeth. She was beautiful. Other women in the house thought she would be more beautiful if she had teeth or wore make up.
In one of those times when she cried so quietly, I held on to her and she held on to me also that we cried together until she laughed. Then she wiped her tears, went to the kitchen and taught me how she made popped rice.
About 20 years before she lived with us, she was one of the women who was taken to the “rape camps” during the Japanese occupation when she was just seventeen. As many as ten men a day would rape her. “Comfort women.”
The ‘Peace Monument,’ representing the ‘comfort women’ forced to become sex slaves for the Japanese Forces during the Second World War, sits at Toronto’s Korean Community Centre, the Korean Canadian Cultural Association (1133 Leslie St.).
A film called “The Apology,”by Tiffany Hsiun that told the story of three former “comfort women” who were among the 200,000 girls and young women kidnapped and forced into military sexual slavery by the Imperial Japanese Army during World War II is currently showing at Hot Docs until Thursday December 8.
I need to see this film. I also need to sit at the “Peace Monument” at the Toronto Korean Community Centre. I want to remember the warmth of Lola Tia Maria’s tears. Perhaps, I will also make popped rice.