Speaking The Unspeakable

The Rwanda show was amazing. I did not exactly know what to expect. And yet I walked away from the evening of the opening night feeling proud to have been a part of it. I took the train down to San Francisco on Thursday. That evening my mom and I went to the opening. They placed my piece on a black wall and shined a spotlight on it. This captured it in a way that made it look sacred, especially within the context of the show. A guy by the name of Jon Wallen displayed his collection of photojournalism – all photos of women and children from Rwanda who now benefit from AIDS medication. It was nice to see images that were not like those that you see on those Save the Children ads or in National Geographic. They were not images of sad starving people, yet Rwandans living, working and embracing life. There was one photo that my mom and I lingered around. It was a photo of a group of children standing with a Razor style scooter, yet theirs was a homemade version made from carved wood. One little girl was SO sweet, her smile so contagious that my mom and I smiled in reaction to it.

There was an altar set up a part of the gallery display as well. They did not explain what the different parts symbolized yet the altar had bananas, avocados and corn placed on it. There were also candles and a big flat bowl lined in circles of vividly colored beans with an egg resting in the center. At one point a woman in a blindfold sat on a chair near the altar singing a song in a heavy Spanish accent holding the egg in her hand. That part of the evening was strange and yet it was interesting indeed.

The art reception was from 6-8 pm followed by the first set of performances of the benefit. Because we were there early in the evening, at one point my mom and I snuck into the theatre and watched the final rehearsals of the performances. I had not seen any of the performance aspects of the benefit so I was extremely nervous not knowing what to expect. I stood on the sidelines rather than taking a seat in the audience because I feared that my emotional reaction might have caused me to need to exit quickly. The spoken word portion of the event was directed by an incredible woman I met last October. Four women told the true stories of actual women who survived genocide in Rwanda, yet the way the acted it out you would have thought that they, themselves were the actual victims. My mom and I were drawn in, we both stood with frowned brows and our hands made their way to either our mouths or crossed over our chests as we braced ourselves listening to these accounts of heartbreaking cruelty. I still hear the stories in my head. I still see and hear the sorrow as one woman spoke of seeing her child killed.

A modern dance troop, the Anne Bluethenthal Dancers, danced beautifully; jumping and leaping with grace and at the same time strength. One very petite woman danced with such passion! She danced effortlessly like as if movement came as easily as breathing. It was mind-blowing. As the women danced, these two women walked through the leaping, twirling bodies singing jabs and fragments that made the music complete. All of this movement, strength and energy filled the room as the women danced in these flowing sheer costumes over leotards.

When we finally went back into the art reception the place was packed. There was a sense of excitement and expectancy in the air. Looking around the room packed with such diversity I felt like anyone could have arrived, it seemed that the possibilities of guests were endless. I saw a news anchor talking to the photographer. This newscaster was simply having a night out with some friends. I saw a professor from the California Arts and Crafts College. I ran into a few artists I’d met in passing throughout the years. Chatted with two women who talked about having traveled to South Africa. Ran into one of my sister’s high school teachers. I talked to a writer and then a woman who said she’d just gotten back from a business trip in New York. So my mom and I mingled. Just as I my mind wandered toward the thought of leaving, people began to approach me and ask about my artwork. I realized this buzz going on around my work. Here I’d started to second-guess myself last week about this piece and now the room was buzzing about it. So, needless to say, it was an amazing evening. I was proud to be associated with the program. I watched as people donated money to benefit Rwandan women with AIDS. I was glad that I did not simply receive information about the impact of AIDS, only to tuck it away and forget about the needs of others. In my small way I helped to make a difference. This thought made it all worth it for me – the many hours creating the work, the drama of getting the work there and picking it up, the glitches that stressed me out – all forgotten as I saw others come to realize the possibilities, the call to help another on a global scale.

hope

Here’s the wire baby I finally completed! It is 26 in. tall x 12in. wide, complete with ten fingers, ten toes and a belly button!

see more of the human form:
vulnerability
a time of reflection
newborn
melancholy
leaping man
little girl
hand
contemplation
breathe

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step into her shoes

step into her shoes
Kristine Mays, artist
Completed in 2006
Medium: wire
43 in. L x 28 in. W, head wrap – 10 in. x 10 in.

Created to celebrate women
who have survived genocide,
this sculpture’s invisible occupant
represents the many faces
of Rwandan women
living,
breathing
and surviving
in the midst of the circumstances
that bind them.

Fluid shapes, resulting in a celebration of human form is revealed as thousands of individual pieces of wire are bound together by Kristine Mays, unveiling a Rwandan woman full of strength and grace.

This piece will be a part of Speaking the Unspeakable, a traveling multi-media exhibition designed to give voice to women survivors of the rapes and massacres in Rwanda in 1994. For more about the event, see the post below...

see more wire dresses:
abundance
all that jazz
couture amore
deliciously complicated
everyday elegance
flirt
lucy ricardo
phenomenal woman
saturday night dancing
shall we dance
splendor in the grass

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