About two dozen women received special personalized valentines from movie and pop singer legends and heartthrobs, e.g., Humphrey Bogart, Marlon Brando, Bing Crosby, Tony Curtis, Kirk Douglas, Clark Gable, Cary Grant, Burt Lancaster, Dean Martin, Gregory Peck, Frank Sinatra, James Stewart, etc., etc.

Presented with a cast like this, it didn’t matter that their individual conquests took place while blindfolded, with only instinct and the prompting of other residents and aides as guides. Choose badly and you might end up with a real dog (or monkey or cow) but in that case, you were given a second chance.

In between assignations, we shared background and stories about each actor, along with lines from the signature songs of those who were crooners. One resident reported that she and other students in her Catholic school saw “The Alamo” four or five times Why? Because the nuns were in love with John Wayne.

It should also be noted that of all the actors, George Clooney got the most oohs and aahs by far — a result that only confirms this blogger’s belief that no one should be that handsome!

I started out by showing him samples I had made several months ago. (Click on images to enlarge):

He liked the palette of the middle piece — which is not a weaving but an abstract illustration broken into partial strips — and decided to work with other b&w pages from a paper collection based on animal hides. After tearing them into strips, I assisted him in threading the fragments through slits in a blank sheet of paper. Another layer was formed by colored vellum that remained from the holiday wish holder project,  and charcoal gray metallic paper scraps provided a third. At every step, I raised the question that confronts all artists working in this manner: “Do you want to stop here or continue?” J~ declared the piece complete once gray and gold dots were put in place. It is now hanging in his room next to a Phillies baseball poster:

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S~ awakened around the time that J~ was leaving for lunch. In addition to showing her what we’d been doing, I found another sheet whose strips were close together. (It reminded me of one of those old-fashioned, wiry, hard-boiled-egg slicers.) As S~ looked on with rapt attention, I demonstrated various techniques that could be used to turn it into a paper sculpture: folding, bending, curling, crunching, drawing lines, and adding bits of paper. The resulting abstract piece was put together in a quick two-minute improv that S~ completely understood and appreciated “This is extremely interesting,” she said in her labored voice, “I love it.”

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Later, when I brought her to lunch, she thanked me for “[my] ideas, [my] help, and [my] sharing.” Next week, I hope it will be she who shares her ideas and creativity.

This was a collaboration between van Gogh and J~, a stroke-impaired former food journalist. Working outward from the center portion of Bedroom at Arles, and without seeing the rest of the composition, J~ used oil pastels to complete the painting. A family caregiver who was joining us for the first time assisted. The end result is a hybrid piece that takes off in a new direction and works beautifully on its own. I was so impressed with it, I made a copy for myself.

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This portrait of a stunningly handsome adult male, (i.e., yours truly :), was done by J~, a woman with a life-long passion for art she was in danger of losing due to her deteriorating cognition. Clearly, though, her artistic gifts are intact. At our session, I was particularly struck by her understanding and concentration: she asked that her aide leave the room so there’d be no distraction, positioned the two of us to take advantage of the light, and took breaks so I wouldn’t become uncomfortable while posing. She also offered some helpful drawing tips I can use with my less advanced clients. When I suggested she consider doing portraits of other residents in her care facility, she politely informed me she doesn’t draw any old face — just those that appeal to her sensibility.

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S~ created this free-form quilt, inspired by fiber-artist Rayna Gillman who graciously donated bags full of raw material. I knew that S~ had been a quilter in the past but her younger sister recently filled me in on some details:

“S~ has always been outstanding in the creative arts field. She, like our mom, was able to create and sew just about anything. One day, I will show you the vest she made for me out of old ties: she cut them into interesting geometric shapes and hand-stitched them together to make a vest which is lined and has velvet backing.

“S~ was unable to go to college when she graduated from high school because our family was poor and it was depression time. But she finally got her degree at Goddard College in VT at the ripe old age of 67!

“She then went on to teach classes at a senior center — quilting (her class made gorgeous quilts, one of which is still hanging there) and creative writing, and led a weekly current events discussion. 

“S~ also started a group at a Philadelphia synagogue that made a magnificent quilt entitled ‘Women of the Bible’ which still hangs in the temple today.”

For this piece, S~, who is wheelchair bound with limited manual dexterity, chose the swatches and strips and directed their placement on a 20” x 30” piece of foamboard covered with quilting batting. Its final form will be a photographic print since sewing is not an option given the available resources.

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A ripe pineapple served as a still life for L~, the former art teacher, her aide A~, and myself. It was an interesting experience. A~ and I tried to reproduce the detailed surface texture of the fruit itself and got hopelessly lost in its complexity. L~ resorted to basic diamond shapes which she claimed was the pattern she saw (and which are, of course, the way pineapples are traditionally depicted.) Her pineapple came out looking a lot more appealing than ours did.

In between sessions, A~ continued to develop her newfound talent by drawing from her imagination and memories of Ghana, and taking inspiration from works by the masters:

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Kandinsky’s Blue Horse as completed by A~.

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 La Marguerite de Matisse as drawn by A~.

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Picasso’s Le Visage De La Plaix as drawn by A~.

]]> http://eldersparks.wordpress.com/2012/01/19/an-eldersparks-gallery/feed/ 1 ag J_Sml_852 Portrait_of_AG_800 Quilt_158 L_Pineapple_536 Corn_Grinding_984 Tree_w_Birds_983 A_Kandinsky_406 A_Matisse A_Picasso_414 http://eldersparks.wordpress.com/2012/01/08/whats-the-point/ http://eldersparks.wordpress.com/2012/01/08/whats-the-point/#comments Sun, 08 Jan 2012 08:23:24 +0000 ag http://eldersparks.wordpress.com/?p=1042 ]]> I recently started working with a number of private clients. One is a woman in her nineties, a former art teacher diagnosed with early-stage Alzheimer’s and no longer in touch with her artist self. L~ and I work at her kitchen table, joined by A~, a young woman from Ghana who serves as her full-time aide. A~ has plans to become a radiologist, but it wouldn’t surprise me if she ends up going to art school — that’s how enthralled she is about being introduced to the world of art.

At each of our first few sessions, I began with a simple, collaborative, warm-up exercise that requires neither talent nor expertise and is easy for a caregiver to do with a client or loved one. I like the nonverbal nature of the interaction, and the fact that it involves a certain degree of concentration, responsiveness, and connection. Some exercises are very quiet and focused while others are high energy and fun; quite often, a wonderful, serendipitous surprise awaits at the end.

In this first variation, each of us started drawing with pastels and/or markers on a sheet of paper. When 45 seconds were up, we passed our sheet to the person on our left, who continued drawing on this new page for a few seconds more. We went around the table like this for three rounds, interrupted only by L~ exclaiming, “What’s the point?” or “I don’t get it,” and me urging patience. Midway through however, I could see her old artist self peeking out: it was in the way she paused to consider the drawing, or held her pen above the page, before making her next move. The shift was subtle but striking nevertheless.

Below are some of the collaborative results from our first session. A few days later, I did the same thing with other students in a gerontology class I was taking and was struck by the difference. Comparing the efforts of both groups made me very proud of my girls.

(Click on images to enlarge.)

 Collaborative drawings, ElderSparks session.

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Sample drawings, gerontology certificate class.

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 A still life L~ did at the end of our first lesson. As I packed up to leave, she said, “That was fun.

I enjoyed it.”

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A mirroring exercise in which one of us followed the line being drawn by our partner.

Week 2 began with the mirror drawings above, followed by a new challenge: completing one of three celebrated twentieth-century paintings by working from the center section outward, without seeing what the full painting looked like. The choices were Lady in Blue by Matisse, Blue Horse by Kandinsky, or Bedroom in Arles by van Gogh.

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I proposed they begin by continuing the colors and lines that stopped at the edge of the frame.

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L~ chose the Matisse but remained perplexed about why we were doing this. To help her begin, I drew an outline of the dress for her and suggested she fill it in with the same blue seen in the painting. She worked hard at mixing the right color before applying it with her brush. After a minute or two, she became more comfortable and assured. A~, on the other hand jumped right in as if she was one of Kandinsky’s apprentices. The homework assignment for both women was to extend the paintings on either side in whatever way they might imagine it being finished.

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When I returned the next time, Matisse’s Lady in Blue was taped to the kitchen wall along with the still life but nothing more had been done with it. A~, who was away on a short break, had left behind her excellent start on the Kandinsky.

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Our third collaboration was something I call “visual chess,” even though there’s nothing competitive about it. Two people play it by sitting on opposite sides of a letter-size sheet of paper that’s been divided into a grid of 2”x2” squares (approximately). (If there are more than two players, each person starts with their own sheet of paper which then gets passed around the table as in the earlier exercise.)

The idea is to take turns filling in one square at a time with either solid colors, lines, shapes, designs, words, numbers, etc. until all 20 squares are colored in. Like any good comic or musical improvisation, the whole thing holds together when each person is sensitive to what the others are doing — and falls apart when everyone goes in their own direction. The end results are usually very vibrant and alive.

I had expected to hear, “What’s the point?” once again, but this time, L~ pondered the empty squares before her and said, “Well, well, well!” She started tentatively by drawing diagonal lines in several boxes until she noticed their rigidity and switched to wavy lines. As we progressed, she became freer and freer with what she drew:

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Later, we turned to the Lady in Blue painting. L~ explained that she hadn’t worked on it because she felt so lost. I suggested she try adding details to the background behind the woman but it was a difficult concept for her to grasp. I showed her the door behind J~ (A~’s temporary replacement), and the wall behind me, but she couldn’t connect those features with the analagous elements in the painting.

Borrowing a page from Meet Me, the Museum of Modern Art’s program for people with dementia, I asked her to describe what she saw in the painting. She pointed out how difficult it was to tell if the woman was seated or standing. I found that pretty perceptive and together we looked for clues: the hint of a curvilinear sofa behind her, the position of the subject’s left arm — which L~ was unconsciously mirroring — and agreed that the only way she’d be upright and holding her arm like that was if she was about to shoot herself! Asked what the woman held in her right hand, L~ had no idea — even the colors and shapes were as if invisible to her.

She did considerably better with objects in the van Gogh painting. I was surprised though when she told me she found it disturbing. I thought perhaps it might be due to the floor which slants so abruptly. She said, no, it’s because the paintings beside the bed tilt forward even though the wall is straight, and the window points inward rather than out. I never would have given either a second thought if she hadn’t mentioned them. It was yet another example of her visual sophistication.

(To be continued.)

Taking a cue from the holiday season, we brought a golden wish holder to two eldercare facilities this week and last. (Some drew parallels to the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem; others saw two inverted tomato cages attached to one another.)  Markers and metallic card stock and paper strips were provided for decoration, along with suggestions for what to write on them: a caring thought or wish directed to someone else, a gift to either give or receive, one’s name or that of a loved one, or simply something decorative. The options offered different entry points to accommodate residents whose cognitive abilities vary widely. Here is a sampling of their responses, and those of staff and visiting family members:

I would like to travel.

Peace.

I wish all of my family stays well.

New earrings.

Happy Chanukah to all.

I wish to walk without a walker.

To see my son.

Give love.

Be very good.

A trip to the shore.

A very kind and loving husband to take care of J~.

Cooking lessons for our chef.

I wish my daughter come to America.

Peace and goodwill to everyone.

New bedroom slippers.

Hi N~, I hope you will get well soon.

New tie for my husband.

Merry Xmas.

Hello Betty and Irv.

Vacation.

I wish for my mother to come home.

Good health for B~.

I would like the sun to shine on Everyone to keep them happy and healthy.

I wish that I could have the dental work I need.

To mother, E~.

Great family.

I wish for an English Christmas cake.

xxxooo.

and one very literal response:

A gift I would like to give and a gift I would like to receive.

What can we give that isn’t bought online or in a store? And what would we like to receive that doesn’t come in a box or bag? Two questions worth contemplating as we celebrate the season of light and our hope for peace.

After singing Happy Birthday to S~ (only to find out she was three weeks early on the date), we held hands in a circle and rang a bell in remembrance of E~, an ElderSparks regular who died last month. Despite the physical pain she was often in, she brought a loving energy to our group: hearts were her favorite graphic.

When it came time to pick an instrument, J~ chose the xylophone, impressing everyone with the crossed-grip technique he instinctively used to hold the mallets in his working hand.

(Click below for 0:00:12 audio): 

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S~ was drawn to the tambourine.

(Click below for 0:00:13 audio): 

Later, she took to the xylophone and mallets as if she had been playing a drum set all her life.

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L~ was so weak she could barely hold a hand bell.

(Click below for 0:00:41 audio): 

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Since she had such a beautiful voice, we tried encouraging her to make a sound or repeat a word or phrase in time with the music. The conversation that ensued was both comical and almost painful in its miscommunication, a perfect example of how easily the best intentions go astray when speaking with an Alzheimer’s or dementia patient. (I kept thinking we were caught in a variation on the “Who’s on first?” joke):

Cynthia: Do you have a favorite word? A word you like? What’s a really nice word?

L~: I don’t know.

Me: How about “love”?”

L~: Oh wow.

Me: Is that a word you like, “love?”

L~: Well. [Followed by silence.]

Me: OK, can you say, “love”?

L~: Love?

Me: Yes, that’s all you need to do, that will be your part.

L~: Then they’re lucky.

Cynthia and me: Yes, we’re all lucky.

Me: You say the word “love” over and over again. So that when I point to you, you say, “love, love, love, love, love.” OK, can we try it? [I gesture in her direction.]

L~ (almost trancelike): I will try.

Me: OK, let’s try: say, “love.” [Extending my arm like a conductor.] Love? 

L~: [Silence]

Me: Or would you like to say your name?

L~: No.

Me: Would you like to say, “no”?

L~: [Nods head].

Me [laughing]: “Yes”? That’s a nice word: “no,” is very short but “yes” is more positive.

L~: I’m going to try.

Me: OK, what word are you going to say? Pick a word. It can be anything.

L~: I shall.

Cynthia: That’s a nice phrase, that’s a beautiful phrase.

Me: OK, can you say, “I shall”?

L~: Why not?

General laughter.

(Click below for 0:00:24 audio): 

It got more raucous but I’ve decided that those passages aren’t quite yet ready for prime time. Perhaps in two weeks when we’ve had more practice.

As the others jammed, I asked L~ if I could have this dance. With some difficulty she stood up and placed her hand on my shoulder. We slow danced for maybe half a minute or so before she had to sit again. It was very sweet, like revisiting a precious moment from the past. In another effort to keep her engaged, I stood behind her chair and gently tapped on her head and shoulders as if I were playing an instrument. She didn’t seem to mind. Indeed, when Cynthia brought her back to her room, L~ turned to her with a big smile and said: “I didn’t know what to expect but I enjoyed that.”

Some customers tell us that when first introducing Noodle Talk, they go through the questions beforehand to weed out the “more difficult ones.” I never do that, but as the first few questions were picked, I began to wonder if I had made a mistake: each was the serious kind that might easily send newcomers running. And if that wasn’t bad enough, an overly zealous prosecutor might interpret some as prima facie evidence of elder abuse (e.g., What feeling or thought would you like to accompany your final breath?).

In the end though, I didn’t need to call a lawyer. Nor was my inner cringing warranted. This group of senior citizens was absolutely fearless in responding to the questions. (Noodle Talk’s guidelines recommend reading the question silently to yourself and picking another if you don’t feel comfortable answering it. This way, no one knows what question you’re returning to the set unanswered.)

Often, their responses were deeply moving. One woman told about cheating on a class exam when she was 12 years old. Immediately afterwards, she was filled with remorse and confessed. Later, she became the teacher’s pet. Another woman spoke with pride about mastering the steep learning curve involved in taking over her husband’s business following his death.

Most touching for me though was the beautiful answer a 94 year-old man gave to the question about a final dying thought or feeling. He hoped he would recall how fortunate he was to have had the life he did — including his wonderful wife, children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. (Last month, we learned that his marriage was still going strong after 74 years.)

Another man expressed a similar sentiment in response to another “difficult” question:

If, before being born, you were required to write a brief essay explaining your interest in taking human form, what would you have written?

He started out by saying he didn’t want to be a cockroach or a fly around a toilet. What he would look forward to “was smelling all the good things, having all the good thoughts, meeting the right girl, and having a great momma and poppa.”

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Question: Assuming it were possible, what substance do you think would make a terrific substitute for blood?

Answer: Martinis

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In leading Noodle Talk groups, I usually insist that we stick to authentic experience and not get lost in intellectual discussion or opinion. With a group that’s exclusively older seniors however, I let that restriction fall away. It adds a more familiar and comfortable element to the mix, and enriches the time we spend together. At our second meeting in November, the question, What is your favorite form of public transportation?, prompted some to share how hard it was to give up driving, and others to reflect on the trade-off between feeling safe and secure in the facility vs. having the world around them grow smaller and smaller. When have you felt most feminine? Masculine? became the catalyst for an extended conversation about sexual stereotyping.

Other conversational tangents: how to get inspired and motivated again, and how to get more out of daily programs.

A man, whose wife was living in a nearby nursing home for Alzheimer’s patients, talked about his year-long recovery from a stroke. “I never thought I’d end up here in assisted living,” he said. “It’s been tough. I’m trying to get better but I’m still not there.” Others responded by complimenting him on the progress he had made, and saying how much they admired and liked him. It was a genuine and spontaneous expression of support. Later, this same man, in answering another Noodle Talk question, named Woody Allen and Larry David as two artists he would commission to create a work based on his life.

Near the end, we shared stories about some really dumb things we had done as children. One woman admitted for the first time ever that she once threw something at dinner guests from behind a pantry door. She was returning to her room after being banished from the table for being fresh. When asked why this never came up at weekly confession in her youth, she laughed and said she didn’t think she had done anything wrong.

Corn Bird

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Navel-Gazing Seed Snail

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Curly Bark Leaf Eater

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Striped Gilled Pineback

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(Click on all images to enlarge.)

Harold

Harold was the inspiration for an extended ElderSparks session celebrating fall and its imaginary creatures. In preparation, I had gathered a large collection of leaves in various shapes and sizes, fluffy seed plumes, delicate thorny spines, scary-looking fruit heads, cornhusks, pods, and even empty wasp nests. The full assortment was displayed on tables that greeted the participants upon arrival.

Due to illness and the recent demise of one of our regulars, our group consisted only of J~, the food writer, S~, the quilter, and myself. We began by observing a moment of silence in memory of L~ who, I think, would have especially enjoyed this class. Afterwards, I passed some of the more interesting specimens around so we could admire their beautiful patterns, textures, shapes, and subtly colored surfaces.

I also couldn’t resist brushing the faces and heads of J~ and S~ with the feathery seed heads of ornamental grasses. Even a twig with dried pine needles proved surprisingly soft against the skin.

S~ kept asking when I had done my collecting, and urged me to keep track of the dates from year to year. Apparently that was very important to her, and may be related to an earlier time in her life when she saved red leaves for pressing. She was much better than I was at identifying specific plant genera, and became very animated talking about the artistic inspiration that nature provided. Clearly, she was in her element.

J~ was attracted to the hedge-apple when making his first fantasy animal. Once it acquired eyes, he added a receding hairline, longish snout, and leafy butt. He named it Max after his son, and explained that Max liked steak.

Max

Below, the multi-orbed animal with bushy tail that was another of J~’s creations. Named after his daughter Zooey, it too preferred steak. (This made me wonder just whose dietary preferences J~ was talking about.)

Zooey

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S~’s aesthetic at work: Less is more.

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A group effort.

Near the end of the session, I noticed that just beyond the window which S~ had her back to, was a tree whose leaves were turning red. I asked if she would like me to turn her around so she could view it. Once she was in position, I went outside to cut some leaves for her. I presented it to her as a bouquet which she clutched happily to her chest as she left the room.

]]> http://eldersparks.wordpress.com/2011/11/10/my-pet-leaf/feed/ 0 ag Pet_Leaf_Sml_212 Gray_Seeds_Sml_168 Browns_Cropped_Sml_172 Two_Leaves_Combo_Sml_ Thorns_Sml_210 Max_Sml_192 Zoey_Sml_195 Less_is_More_Sml_187 SRC_Seed_Pod_Sml_189 Sylvia_Leaves_177 http://eldersparks.wordpress.com/2011/11/07/halloween-album/ http://eldersparks.wordpress.com/2011/11/07/halloween-album/#comments Mon, 07 Nov 2011 04:38:03 +0000 ag http://eldersparks.wordpress.com/?p=878 ]]> ElderSparks held two different mask-making workshops the week before Halloween. Paper plates, colored markers and soft pastels, pipe cleaners, Groucho glasses, and photographic prints served as entry points into the holiday spirit.

(Click on image to enlarge)

A number of participants didn’t know how to begin and were in need of hands-on assistance. I was struck by how much they appreciated the help, the thrill they got out of having someone like myself — a true artiste as far as they were concerned — consulting with them and suggesting designs for their personal mask. No doubt it made them feel special.

One woman, who was very agitated, left at the beginning and didn’t return ’til the end. Told that the masks were for a Halloween party the next day, B~ begged me to make a mask for her. It was time to leave but I could hardly say no. I wasn’t sure what colors or designs would be appropriate but the answer became obvious once I saw what a sweet smile she had. The hearts I drew were all that B~ needed to go away as one very satisfied customer!

This second location, with 15-20 women in attendance, marked the first time I enlisted a participant as an aide. J~ was a former art teacher who still retained many of her classroom skills. She cut holes in the masks for the eyes and nose and provided encouragement to others at her table. It felt good to give her that opportunity.

On a sad note, one of our central New Jersey ElderSparks regulars passed away unexpectedly on Halloween night. L~ was 95, a nurse by profession. Just one week earlier at mask making, she described the important role that family members and friends could play at the hospital bedside of a loved one. L~ had a great sense of humor and was very open to ElderSparks: she didn’t always understand what was happening but that never interfered with her delight. “This is far out!,” was a typical response. One thing she didn’t like though was a photograph I had taken of her: she thought its subject looked like a 90 year-old woman. When asked what age she was, she grinned and confessed to being 5 years older.

At the end of each class, L~ would announce she was moving back to her home after lunch and wouldn’t return. I told her we’d miss her, but she was always welcome to drop in if she ever found herself in the area. Sure enough, we’d see her the next week. Now, she is home at last and will truly be missed. I imagine her leaving this world in the company of happy, costumed spirits whose bags are overflowing with candy.