Just as people have different ideas in politics, they possess various opinions of what makes good art.
Just as people in the United States will have to learn the meaning of “moving forward” together, art possesses the ability to take down barriers. It unleashes a power to release something within us—an emotion, a hope, or a memory.
Sometimes I do not want to move forward without her, or the reminder of what she has created. I can tell you, no matter what you feel about this election, none of it compares to the loss of a child. To turn away from the art that sits on her desk is to ignore the beauty she brought to this Earth.
Both of my children were—are—artists.
Together, Hayes and Corrie were a sibling match made just for our family.
Corrie was practical, but creative. She helped Hayes with real situations. He helped her expand her imagination.
But they were—are—always artists.
I believe Hayes could be a good writer once he becomes more comfortable with writing. He tells stories through play, but through his drawings from the time he was a toddler.
I am an author whose writing has turned from a variety of experiences to Corrie and Hayes. I never considered myself an artist. As a small town journalist, I took picture after picture published in newspapers for which I worked. Yet, I never considered myself a “photographer.”
At the end of the day, the title does not matter. I am grateful to be an author, but I am more proud of the fact that both children adore art. They loved—love—to create.
When we say artist, I think it is someone who attempts to make sense of the world when logic fails, and creation is all that’s left.
When the shut down happened in March 2020, Corrie knew how much I missed my students. She knew how much I worried about them. Being old-fashioned, my children do not have video games. They have limited time with an iPad or device.
Corrie kept her art supplies next to my school items. Often purple markers mingled with a book I read to students online. She took her old birthday cards, and starting cutting them up.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Mommy, I have to cut them up.”
“Why? You’re messing up your card.”
“I have to cut them,” she said as she cut around roses on her card. “I’m making a new card for your birthday, Mommy.”
Hayes has drawn images to express stories of knights going to war because it is the impact Corrie’s absence has made on him.
But he has also made art expressing his love.
When my pink dress rose art was accepted in the online November Exhibition by Fusion Art for its Leaves & Petals, as I shared on Thursday, I was surprised. I never considered myself an artist.
Just a mother trying to make sense of why her daughter is gone. It inspires me to keep writing and keep creating at her Earthly place.
By Rebecca T. Dickinson
Corrie's Season 