I saw lady apples today in the market. You know, those miniature yellow and red apples, about the size of a ping-pong ball. Every time I see them I am reminded of my grandmother. She loved those lady apples. I never buy them, but I always linger for a moment and remember her. My grandmother had a great influence on my life and I like to think that I resemble her - if not physically then in terms of certain traits and characteristics. I named my first daughter for her and I cherish the times when I daydream about her presence in my life.
My grandmother had one of those amazing life stories. Born in Russia (now it is Moldova) she was poor, persecuted and suffered a great deal of loss early in her life. When she was young her father owned a bookstore where famous philosophers and writers were known to hang out. But at an early age her mother died. When she was not yet a teenager her father and older brother came to America to make money and later send for them leaving his three daughters with their elderly grandmother. And as so many stories like this go, the grandmother died, World War I broke out and for many years my grandmother never heard from her father and brother. She and her younger sisters survived purely by their resourcefulness and will.
My grandmother had a striking sense of style and was a talented dressmaker. When she came to the US, she never worked in a sweat shop like many of her generation of immigrants to NYC. She worked on fine dresses, deftly able to hand roll a silk hem, or hand bead a dress bodice. She had amazing talent and an incredible sense of style. My grandmother lived with us when I was growing up from my tween years until I left for college. I spent many hours sitting with her and watching her work, talking, answering her inquiries about my day, my friends, my adventures.
Later in her life she started making exquisite life-like beaded flowers from tiny seed beads. She made orange and black poppies and fresh white daisies. Her hands were never idle - even when she sat and talked with you she was always folding her skirt fabric or apron or purse handle into different fan patterns. She could make something out of nothing. A gown from a piece of cloth. Fabulous embroidered table clothes from ordinary fabric and thread. And flowers from beads and wire.
My grandmother lived to be 96 years old. She was vibrant and with-it until her very last year. Even in her early 90s she had a great wardrobe - pant suits, dresses, blouses that she always “tweaked” in some way to express herself “just so”. Some days when I am working at my workbench, especially beading, I think of her. I think that maybe, just maybe, my work creating jewelry, stringing beads and working in patterns ties me back to her. I only hope that I possess some degree of her talent and style. I am grateful for her influence on my life and for the warm, well-worn memories that I have of her.
We spent most of the trip in Vietnam. First let me dispell any notions that you may have about the Vietnamese having bad feelings toward Americans. While the older Vietnamese don't want to talk about the war (they call it the American war), the Vietnamese in general have a particular affinity for Americans. They love Americans. In his wonderful book titled "Vietnam Now", author David Lamb says about the relationship between Vietnam and America: "...Americans and Vietnamese share an almost inexplicable bond. It is not the bond of natural friendship that Americans might feel for, say, Australians...rather it is something deeper and more mysterious. It is a liaison woven in tragedy and common suffering...perhaps as much as anything, the bond is rooted in the realization that the war changed the United States as much as it did Vietnam"
By comparison our time in Laos was calm and quiet. Vietnam has a population of 85 million, Laos on the other hand, 5.5 million. Overall I called this trip "The Journey to a Million Buddhas", because I think I may have seen that many while visiting the multitude of Buddhist temples. 
This trip was enormously rewarding, challenging and curious. I enjoyed time with my family, and met interesting people along the way. 
Vietnam is a country full of promise, filled with people who are hard working and industrious. Unfortunately there is still grinding poverty, disease and many undeveloped ways. But since the Doi Moi (the government's free market reforms) everyone is an entrepreneur of sorts and with this the standard of living is rising, albeit slowly. I was happy to see that so many artisans are relying on their skills to make a living. While there are factories going up, and most Vietnamese are farmers, there is still a great pride among these artisans that they are able to use their craft to support themselves and their families. I will close with pictures of various artisans - weavers, potters, silversmith, wood carver. They were truly inspiring.
Thought I’d share some with you about my studio. First, it is a private space. I am not an artist that works publicly. My friend Anita (who is with me at shows and many of you know her) always wants me to do demonstrations, saying that customers would love to see me in action. But being on display crimps my creative processes so I have never done this. In fact, I don’t open my studio to the public. For me, the creative process…getting into the “zone”…is something that requires a certain focus and degree of solitude.
It is November in North Carolina. A really beautiful time of year, the foliage is turning amazing shades of orange, yellow, red and purple (carnelian, citrine, coral and amethyst). This is always very inspiring for me. It started with the skylight over my desk in the office this morning. Yesterday’s rain brought down a lot of leaves and some were plastered to the window. In the background, blue sky and tall trees. That caused me to go to each window and photograph the view. So here are some views out the skylight and windows of my studio. Enjoy!
