Art Therapy: Found Object Mosaic

Posted on by hilthethrill

   
 
Art therapy day at the homeless shelter! Yay! The supervisor called me and asked me if I could come the very next day, and do an exercise with leaves! Hmm…challenge accepted.

We talked about dependence, independence and interdependence. Everyone, even those without money, can help another person by giving their time. And everyone, even a person without time, can help another person using money. The shelter workers depend on the homeless and the homeless depend on the shelter workers for their survival. No one does it alone. 

The shelter is in an industrial area, and I took the small group out for a walk and asked everyone to pick up five beautiful or remarkable things that they discovered. We found a homeless person’s camp, bottles of piss and an abandoned bicycle that we left alone, but we also found flowers, stones, leaves and seeds that were useful to our project.

We laid out what we found, and the class started to make speeches on the symbolism of each object they collected…”this marigold represents death, this rock means stability, this cigarette represents the destructiveness of man”, without me prompting them at all. 

The class was surprised that I knew the names of some of the leaves. 

“Are you a tree scientist?”

“No, but I really, really love nature.”

“Have you ever literally hugged a tree?”

“Yeah. Many times.”

Another person in the class piped in,”have you ever thought about how much a tree sees? How many people fall in love under trees?”

Instead of individual artwork, we worked together, interdependently. I instructed the class to pick any object from all we collected, and glue it anywhere on the paper. 

“Even a cigarette butt?” 

“You glue what you choose. It is your artwork.”

Above you can see our collaborative mosaic made of local found objects. The class was not super-stoked about this project. For one reason, it didn’t involve paper and drawing pencils as they expected, and for another reason, the gluing was rather slow. I think the slower pace could be relaxing, depending on the mood of the group. The exercise reflects the energy you put into it, and I also think it raised some really worthwhile discussion.

-why is there a homeless camp outside the shelter?

-can a cigarette butt be art?

– what do different people perceive as remarkable in an old, dirty industrial lot?

-do people really hug trees?

– can a rock or a stick hold meaning?

-can you make something out of junk?

-are homeless people takers and rich people givers?

-what do homeless people give?

Love and light,

Your friend,

Hil

Drink To Frida!

Posted on by hilthethrill

Like Frida Kahlo, when I’m sick, I can still draw. Although, fuck that, who am I to compare? Is my fucking spine severed?! No! No! Just a little invisible auto-immune thingie. Frida Kahlo would have killed to be me, because I sometimes have good days. Frida, I only mean to say that you are a source of inspiration and comfort, like a saint. 

My mother brought me a stunning piece of heirloom furniture that used to be in my grandmother’s house. I decided to move it from the dining room to the living room. Then, of course, all the other furniture has to be futzed with to make room for the heirloom thing. Pretty soon, it looks like a tornado hit because I’ve torn everything apart in an effort to create the perfect artist’s installation called,”Living Room of Lovingly Donated and Craigslist Stuff”. 

 I move the same chair fifteen times. I’m dusting, I’m mopping, my body works for ME! I am the MASTER! If I want to go out the stairs, I will JUST GO! I can’t believe my good luck and I become almost afraid to stop, afraid the feeling of energy might be lost.
  
On a day such as that, why not do laundry? Fold it and put it away! Carpet sweep, wipe the molding, move all the pictures around. 

The next day, I ache, but I figure it will be “the good ache” from a satisfactory workout. It is not a good ache. I sleep. My face is swollen. My ear, jaw, teeth, neck and eye socket on the right side  are excruciatingly swollen and painful, as if I had been in a prize fight from the inside of my head, not the outside. How many weeks ago, was it that my ear drum actually ruptured and water came dripping down my neck? It was Parents’ Weekend. Random parts of my skin feel like bruises. You might catch me poking my own arm, trying to find the perimeter of invisible but painful spots. On the right side of my back is a weird spot that feels like I’ve been shot with an arrow. It wasn’t there yesterday, but it is there today. I walk around with my hand on my right side, like an heiress with a long cigarette from the Great Gadsby. I have Bob mark the spot with a marker. It is there and I want it to be KNOWN. He marks it without comment. 

I start yelling that I don’t want to lie down. I don’t want to go to sleep! I don’t want to rest while the rest of the world is going to Halloween parties, trick or treating, laughing and crunching in leaves. 

“Fuck you, disease! Fuck you for leaving me in this god damned artist’s installation of a living room, watching the shadows cross the wall. God damn you! I am only thirty five! I’ve got shit to do!” 

I scream and cry a little bit, then I go out. I WILL go out. At the end of the night, a decent hour for coming home, 11:00, a grown up time, blinded by the pain on the right side, I hobble into a hot shower, and lay wet on the bed, curled into a fetal position. As Frida would have done. She would have gone out, I know she would. Bob covers me up.

Love and light,

Your friend,

Hil

Who’s house? Hil’s house! In the kitchen…

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Welcome to my little, country kitchen! It is raining determinedly outside, blowing down the last of our autumn leaves. The news of the day is a great big blimp became untethered and reeked havoc on the county, taking out the electricity where it pulled down power lines! It had to crash before it could be recovered! Of course, the news has all the rednecks being quoted,”Well, there was a runaway blimp in the yard. Not something you see every day.”

 

  Bob is back on first shift, totally exhausted and pale as a fish’s belly from working in the pack house. Here he is enjoying his first dinner at home-tacos! One thing that everyone in the house can agree on-Tacos Rule. Sequoia is at home, too, taking a break from practice for marching band. She has gone vegetarian and her tacos are made with black beans.

In the spirit of vegetarianism, I tried my hand at chili bulked up with carrot, onion, sweet red peppers and sweet potatoes, lovingly served over rice.

  
That picture is too steamy! Let me try again!

  
There you go!

If chili is not your thing, how about some flounder sprinkled with herbs?  I tried to hide the kale in the salad, but no one was tricked.

  
The marking period is coming to a close and it is time to pull out the magic with some extra credit projects. Sequoia and her beautiful assistant, Ashley, constructed this cell cake for science class. 

 Can you find the ribosomes?

Sequoia and Ashley may appear to be a dinosaur and a panda, but they are actually sophisticated eighth graders and accomplished bakers, as well as frickin’ adorable marching banders of doom.

   
 
Fall makes me want to eat! And clean and nest in preparation for my long winter’s sleep. Fall is the only time of year when I actually have thoughts like,”We have a linen closet? Shit! I’m gonna organize that mother TODAY!”

 What?! There will be no hibernation this year? Budget cuts?! Damn.

Love and light,

Your friend,

Hil

Frost

Posted on by hilthethrill

   
    
    
    

Hello, Thrillerati-Cool-Kids! This morning was the first killing frost, and that means the pear harvest will soon be put to bed, and Bob will be back on first shift- yay! The hours have seemed so long this year.  I was out walking early enough to catch some photos of the season’s first ice.

I have been working on shoes, to my great delight.  Today I painted, promoted, packed and shipped. Just now, I have been working on hand painted business cards. I believe in the concept of “energy in/energy out”, so I try to put a little magic in all that I do so that it will come back to me with that extra zip!

    
     

I took Sequoia out for a sundae tonight just so I could get a look at her face. I feel like both girls may as well have gone away to school, I see so little of them! Sequoia’s school, marching band, library volunteer work and friends take up so much of her time that I only see her in the car unless I make an appointment. 

Here is the intel that I have gathered on Project Hot Fudge:

1. School, band and friends are great and totally exhausting.

2. I can’t tell if she is talking about a member of an emo band or a YouTube star, or a John Green character 93% of the time, which is a disappointing number. It seems that once your kids become teenagers, it IS true, you really DON’T know what they are talking about. Somehow, I thought I was going to be an exception to that rule…nope. Dan and Phil…Cara Delevigne…Tyler Joseph…Super Woman…Patrick Stump…Chris Colfer…Gerard Way? Do you know these people? Um, wait…? No. I thought I had it, but it is gone now. 

 I  have been up to Mercersburg three times since the end of August to see Nevie, and Bob is sucked up into the harvest season. I have become the old lady, sitting with a TV tray in front of “The Price Is Right”, ranting about how her family never visits, sitting next to her rotary dial phone with a pack of menthols and a cat. 

I am abandoned!!!!

It is alright. Art still loves me. Not you, Art Coffee, I mean ART,  like drawings and painting and creative expression and chopping off your ear and stuff. Art is always there, and never asks for a ride to the mall.

Love and light,

Your friend,

Hil

Art Therapy, Or “She Made Me Draw Buttons”

Posted on by hilthethrill
Some of the guys from my art therapy class today.
Some of the guys from my art therapy class today.

You know where my favorite place is to hang out lately? The homeless shelter! What? That’s not your favorite place to be? Weird. I get so excited to volunteer to teach my art therapy class. I really like the people, getting a chance to be a listener, and encouraging others to be creative. I have been going long enough now that I am really getting to know some of the residents. I really like designing a concept and seeing how the people in the class run with it. Best of all, I like that I’m a volunteer, so pretty much no one tells me what to do! Today was a jewel of a fall day, and I took the class outside to draw with sidewalk chalk. We talked about the inner child, we talked about the healing power of the sun, and we talked about expressing one’s self with pictures when the words fail. We talked about what it felt like to be in a shelter for the first time, and we decided together to decorate the front door with a fall theme to be welcoming to new residents.

She made me draw buttons...
She made me draw buttons…

“Some People” spend seven seconds drawing a cat, and then say,”I can’t draw. I’m done. Do we have to stay?’ I sat down next to “Some People” and drew a scarecrow, and asked her to put the buttons on his shirt. She did. Then I asked if she wanted to help me draw the vertical stripes on the plaid shirt, while I did the horizontal? She did. Then I asked her to make the scarecrow’s hand, but she told me that I was making her do TOO MUCH WORK! That’s me, pushing people to their personal best, like the coach in Rocky, right?

Other people were totally enthusiastic, remembering the last time they used sidewalk chalk, and even singing little songs from their childhood. When the others knew the words, they chimed in. When was the last time you saw a bunch of adults coloring with chalk, singing “John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt”, while laughing and having a good time? An otherwise reserved lady from the West Indies gave a solo rendition of “John Brown’s Baby Has A Cold Upon His Chest,” with all of the hand motions!

John Brown’s baby had a cold upon his chest
John Brown’s baby had a cold upon his chest
John Brown’s baby had a cold upon his chest
And they rubbed it with camphorated oil.

2. Omit word “baby” throughout and do motion
3. Omit “baby” and “cold” and do motions
4. Omit “baby”, “cold” and “chest” and do motions
5. Omit “baby”, “cold”, “chest” and “rubbed” and do motions
6. Omit “baby”, “cold”, “chest”, “rubbed” and “camphorated oil” and do motions

Motions: (not done on Verse 1)

(bold print from lyricsondemand.com)

baby – rock baby in arms
cold – sneeze
chest – slap chest
rubbed – rub chest
camphorated oil – hold nose and make a face

How was YOUR day? Thank you for all of the nice “likes” and comments in the previous entry. October seems to be Homeless Month here at HilTheThrill! 50% off with coupon! Homelessness void where prohibited.

Love and Light,

Your Friend,

Hil

Peace Rock

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This morning, on impulse, I turned down the road I drive past almost every day, and went to look at Peace Rock. It was 9 am, cool and drizzling. There were deer tracks in the mud of the riverbank. The glare of the white sky forced me to squint as I wandered down a trail covered with the glass of broken beer bottles. As in many places in Schuylkill County, my instincts told me to stay alert. People come down here to kayak, picnic and swim, but they also come down there to be away from the eye of general masses. This is the wilderness version of Coney Island, not Disney. 

I took a few pictures, and sat down to enjoy my coffee, listening. Kayaks came up the river. A train car passed on the tracks. A backpacker appeared on the beach, appearing from nowhere. Damn it, I could feel he was there, I was listening, but where did he come from? Good equipment, strong boots, mid grade but none of it the expensive stuff of a Through Hiker, I assessed. No poles. Relaxed body language, friendly expression, rotten teeth, long, curled fingernails…I began to understand that he lived there. 

“Good morning!” I called out to him.

“Good morning!” he said back pleasantly.

“Sorry to cramp your space, I didn’t know you were hanging out here.”

“Not at all. You think you are in the wilderness, but you listen to the cars from the highway all night.”

“Yeah, you aren’t too far back in. There are people all around. It is a beautiful place, though. In the summer people jump off of that rock and it is just packed. One died last year.”

“I don’t like risks like that.”

“Some people would say sleeping out here is a risk.”

“I guess that’s true, but I have been backpacking for 21 years straight.”

“And you are still here. Some people die in their living rooms, never having taken a risk at all. ”

“Yup, ain’t that the truth! I was handicapped when I started and could just hobble along.”

“I come out here to get strong, too. Nature is an incredible healer.”

“Sure is. Nature is good if man would just leave it alone.”

“You know it. Have a good day!”

“You have a good day!”

“That’s my plan!”

“Me, too!”

Love and light,

Your friend,

Hil

The Farmer’s Wife

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What does a modern farmer’s wife do, if not mending, beating rugs and feeding chickens?

Here you go…what I do while Bob is working six days a week, 10 hours a day, bringing in the harvest.

My Completed Tasks (a bureaucratic day spent largely on the phone):

1. Comparison shopped for, and purchased, dental insurance

2. Comparison shopped for repair estimates of a broken antique door

3. Picked up Sequoia at school, sick

4.Free coffee run for Free Coffee Day with Bob

5. Comparison shopped for heating oil

6. Called insurance company about prescription

7. Woke, dressed, fed and put a neighbor’s children on the school bus

8. Paid electric bill

9.Talked to mom about ear
10. Called grandma

11. Brought Sequoia to and from the library to volunteer (feeling better)

12.Kitten photo shoot and respond to adoption inquiries

13. Cooked dinner

14. Called credit card company

15. Put money in “envelope system”

16. Filled the car with gas, cleaned windows

17. Texted Nevie about financial aid deadline for trips abroad at school

A very productive day! 

Love and light,

Your friend,

Hil 

I’m Back From Hogwarts

Posted on by hilthethrill

  
Hey Hey Hey! I’m back from Parents’ Weekend! Did you miss me? I feel like I have been to a strange and foreign land, even though I only went to boarding school to see Nevie. Bob and Sequoia couldn’t make it, so my Mom was my “plus one”. We took in Molecular Biology, Ancient Mediterranean Civ., and Honors English, make-yer-own waffles,  physical therapy, harvest festival dinner, James Buchanan’s birthplace, a play, an art show, crab cakes at a street festival, a meeting with Nevie’s advisor, a campus tour, broke a shot glass at a yard sale, the school store, tailgate lunch, church and a Walmart trip, dizzying enough to make my head spin! 

 

Or maybe I was just dizzy. My ear drum painlessly ruptured this weekend, another gift from the hashimotos fairy, I suppose. For most people that is excruciating, but I have nerve damage in my ear after so many years of ear issues, so it no longer hurts me. I’m grateful for that! I do feel pressure, warmth, headache, exhaustion, and the fluid leak, so I still get the idea what is going on. It has happened before. It heals, and I can still hear. 

  
Mom and I brought a case of Asian pears, Nevie’s bike, and took Nevie for a little Walmart run, but by the time we got to Walmart we were all so exhausted we just kind of walked around in a stupor like zombies…”Things! Things! We were going to buy things but we don’t remember what we wanted…arrrghhh!” 

Nevie is doing well, I am happy to report. It is just like college, I would say, only with more supervision and better food. Everything is so spread out, Nevie’s pedometer says she walks 5 miles a day, up the stairs and down the stairs and up the stairs again. Everyone, the parents, the kids, and the faculty, is trying SO HARD to do a good job. It is a universe of type A personalities, all hearty handshakes and eye contact everywhere you go. I needed a button to wear that says,”it’s cool, it’s cool…you don’t have to impress me.”

  
Nevie joined chorale and sang in church on Sunday. Of course, I cried. Whenever I hear children singing, I cry. It is a reflex. Can you see microscopic Nevie in the picture above? Can you see my little badass in a choir robe? Look what prep school is doing to her already! Undoing all of the negative traits I so carefully cultivated!

Huge thanks to my mom for coming along with me! Love you!

  
Love and light,

Your friend,

Hil

PS. Like, comment, follow or share, if you would like! Xoxox

Netflix Streamteam: Dust Off Your Shelfies!

Posted on by hilthethrill

   

 

Hey, Thrillerati! What are ya watching? Autumn is here, and it is time for snuggling, with warm beverages,  the least-sad-looking gluten-free treat, and Netflix! Time to get to work on your shelfies! A shelfie is a movie or series that you have been meaning to watch, really, but haven’t gotten around to yet. 

I’ve been watching for you. It is my job. I won’t let you watch anything that sucks, Thrillers. Here’s what’s on at our house…

You know Bob, sure he is The Heavy Metal Cowboy, but generally he is understated about things. Annoyingly so. I think he does it on purpose. Whenever I’m like,”This is awesome!”, he’ll say,”eh,” and harsh my buzz. That being said, Bob has decided that “Daredevil” is The Best Series of All Time. He thinks “Daredevil” is even better than Sons of Anarchy, even better than his previous best, The Sopranos. 

  
“Daredevil” is about a blind lawyer who is a superhero. I think the characters are so beautifully interesting. I love the sidekick, Foggy. He reminds me of myself…smart, quirky, compassionate, awkward and short! I don’t get as excited about superheroes as Bob does, and to me, the show is too violent. I have a super low tolerance of violence. To most it might be no big deal, and I will qualify that the violence is not gratuitous or gross, but violence is just not TV-time-relaxing to me personally.

  
Sequoia is hooked on “Once Upon A Time” a show about a town in Maine full of fairytale characters who are always fighting, fleeing or falling in love. I love anything having to do with fairytales, the drama is g-rated, and the show moves really fast. It is fun to see which new fairytale character will pop up. This show is not deep, but it is fun (and, I feel, appropriate for my 13 year old sophisticate).

Now, me. ME. I am really enjoying watching “This Is Life with Lisa Ling”. Andrea Marabito of The New York Post calls describes the show,”Ling travels America introducing viewers to sub-cultures and communities that are unusual, extraordinary and sometimes dangerous.” Subcultures?! I love subcultures!  

 This show reminds me a little bit of the Barbara Walters Specials that I used to watch with my mom. You know somebody is going to cry! I like Lisa Ling and I want to hang out with her, and the places she goes are really interesting. I keep waiting for Lisa to say,”Ew…” but she seems to roll with the challenges of diverse subcultures with grace. 

The first episode is about Williston, N.D., the only town in America that is booming right now due to oil drilling. That sounds boring, but believe me,  it is not! There are 100 men to 1 woman, and they are so overcrowded that the oil companies built “man camps” to house their workers. My favorite part was abouta lady who runs a drive thru coffee shop, and hires workers who look like strippers. Genius! They don’t do anything but hand coffee through a drive through window, but they are making a killing with the men in the freezing dark of North Dakota!

So, what are your shelfies?

Like, comment, follow, or share, if you would like!

Love and light,

Your friend,

Hil

Gluten-Free Art Therapy With Kittens

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The poor dogs’ dishes have become the kittens’ favorite playpen. That’s alright, the dogs don’t mind their dinner being served in Tupperware, just for today.

  
Here in Rednecktopia, it is another perfect September day and a lot is going on! Sequoia is playing the synthesizer in the marching band, Bob is bringing in the biggest harvest ever of very small fruit, and Nevie is taking a Bible class at prep school (about time, you filthy heathens!).

 I went to the lady-parts doctor to see why my period is now an exclamation point (Why do you ever even bother? They aren’t doctors, they are drug dealers!), and I was honored to teach a new art class at the homeless shelter. My theme was “Storytelling”this time. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Class 3:Storytelling 

Time: 1.5 hours

Students: 15 people, homeless adults in a shelter, many new each week but some returning

1. I introduce myself. We discuss what Art Therapy is (and I disclose that I am not a certified therapist).

2. We played a funny story telling game called Fortunately/Unfortunately, and everyone enjoyed an Asian pear snack. 

3.The class introduces themselves and rates how they are feeling on a scale of one-ten.

3. We discussed the positive and negative stereotypes of homelessness, and the assumptions people make about them.

4. Everyone made a piece of art about their own story-a poem, a monologue, a comic strip, or an illustration.

5. Those who chose to, shared, and a bunch of people cried. We all helped support each other. 

6. We rated how we felt after the exercise, to see if the exercise held any value. If the class found it useful, I reminded them that they could use art to tell their story any time, and raise themselves up the emotional scale a little bit. And, if it wasn’t useful, completely forget it and come to another one of my classes to try something new!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After class, one  guy thanked me profusely and told me that the class helped him so much that he felt like a “ten!” Others agreed, and thanked me so much for being there. It is good to have a safe place to release the emotional pressure valve a little, especially in a shelter where privacy is so limited.

I love coming to the shelter. I love the people, the projects, and being of service. Love it, love it, love it!

In other news, my Hashimoto’s thyroiditis is flared up, and I know my monthly exclamation point issues are connected. My joints are swollen, my head aches and I am best friends with my couch, but I am still HAPPY! Take that, Steve*, you miserable bastard! But, the symptoms are a reminder to get more focused in my diet and get back on my anti-inflammatory foods. Ah well, it was fun while it lasted. NO! MORE! GLUTEN! NOT ON SUNDAYS! NOT BECAUSE I HAD A BAD DAY! NOT BECAUSE I HAD A GOOD DAY! NOT BECAUSE I’M OUT TO EAT! NONE! AT ALL! BUSTER! 

 *Steve is the name I gave my Depression

  I’m the second one from the left⤵️


   

 
  
  
It’s cool. 

I’m fine about it.

Totally.

Is that a doughnut?

Here is what we were doing a year ago-The Back Of A Hammer

Love and light,

Your friend,

Hil

PS-Please like, comment and/or share for good karma!❤️💕