How to Experience Art and Culture in NYC without Breaking the Bank

 Blog contributor, Laura Pearson is passionate about teaching the younger generation. Edutude was built to share resources on how to keep children engaged and in love with learning. 

photo from Pixabay.com

 

New York City offers some of the best experiences in the world for visitors and is full of art and culture, but for travelers who aren’t familiar with the city – and for those on a budget – it can be difficult to get to everything on their must-see list during their stay. There are a few hacks, however, for making sure you’re able to see the sights without breaking the bank. Here are some of the best ways to see the best NYC has to offer on the cheap, courtesy of Tilly Studio.

 

Plan Ahead

 

One of the first things you’ll want to do is consult a map and mark all the places you want to see. You’ll also want to double check whether these locations have special COVID protocols. Divide up your destinations by the number of days you’ll be staying and start with one or two sections per day; this way, you won’t be spending extra money on taxi or subway fare to shuttle all over the place.

 

It’s also a good idea to consider touring historic neighborhoods – think Greenwich and Tribeca – rather than sticking to more touristy spots. This will give you a good dose of New York culture without making you reach too deep into your pockets. Check out free options for transportation and sightseeing, as well, such as the Staten Island Ferry and Central Park, where there are usually street performers or art installations to view.

 

All that being said, there are certain things you should leave behind – like your credit worries, your calendar, and your sense of conformity. After all, you’re on vacation!

 

Groupon

 

Definitely explore Groupon before your trip to see if there are any good deals relating to places you’ll want to visit. Just keep in mind that you’ll need to have your itinerary beside you when you’re looking for deals, because you only have 24 hours to purchase a Groupon (although you have more time than that to use it).

 

Check Hours of Operation

 

You can save yourself time and the money it costs to get to certain attractions by checking hours or operation before you go. Many destinations are still operating on reduced or different schedules because of COVID. So, be sure to plan your visits around the most up-to-date information.

 

Go Last-Minute

 

For some, it pays to wait until the last minute. If you’re looking to do a Broadway show, check out the TKTS booth – located in Times Square – just before the show starts for heavily discounted tickets on shows that haven’t sold out. That way, you can save as much as 50%!

 

Take Advantage of the Park

 

Fall in New York City can be beautiful. If you’re headed there on vacation, take advantage of all Central Park has to offer – such as getting picnics to go, snapping pics of the fall foliage, and/or visiting the Central Park Zoo.

 

With New York being one of the most expensive and picturesque places to visit in the U.S., it’s important to budget wisely and do a little research before you arrive so you won’t be trying to plan on the fly. But once you’re there, give yourself some flexibility in terms of your schedule -- and have fun!

 

Tilly Strauss of Tilly Studio is an award winning artist who works in Northeast NY. You can view her work here. If you have questions or you’d like to collaborate, feel free to contact her at artist@tillystudio.com.

How do YOU measure up?

 As an ongoing investigation into both the Culture’s definition of beauty and my personal definition of self, I have been looking into historic fashion choices and not-so-subtle childhood messages handed down through toys.

 

Barbie was the first adult toy marketed for children. It was modeled after a sex toy, called the Lilli, made for German men. Here is one Link to learn more.  My mother strongly opposed acquiring the doll, but my sister and I managed to inherit our babysitter’s collection. Soon after, I had a nightmare of my Barbie aiming to kill me.

My fears of being less than the proportions idealized by media and plastic Barbie, may have led me to suffer anorexia nervosa as a teenager. After all, she came with a wardrobe and a teeny book called How to Lose Weight. Inside it just said, “don’t eat”.

 In less than 100 years, her tiny, pointed feet and wide-set eyes, that only looked demurely sideways, her impossibly narrow waist, and large breasts, and her pearly-pink hairless skin have become an ideal for today’s beauty standards. There is speculation that she could have led to the growingcosmetic surgery business today, the fear of body hair, and an embracing of plasticity as a filter.

 

Distorted body proportions and exaggerated poses are everywhere through time. In the 1800s the Hottentot Venus, (a stolen 20-year-old Khoikhoi woman from South Africa: Saartji Baartman), was paraded against her will and almost naked for the titillating the male European gaze. Here is one link to learn more about this. Women in France and England adopted bustles and Basques into their fashion to mimic the enlarged rear of the South African.

 As we look to history, I am amazed at the embrace of glamour through whitening of skin with the lead paint and arsenic wafers (that slowly poisoned the wearer). I am horrified by the bound miniature feet of the Asian nobility. I panic at the elongated necks of the Myanmar and imagine the dread of the daily use of a whale bone corsets. I willingly ignore the affect of the porn industry on beauty.

 

 

As recently as 2014 Kim Kardashian a woman who uses her sexual appeal as currency to sell a fashion line, posed as the Khoikhoi woman, balancing a champagne glass on her derriere for a shot which enraged many feminists and blacks. Beyonce is rumored to be thinking of making a film about Baartman, but that has led to it's own furor.

 

Fashion minimizes and exagerates the average body type. It always has and always will. How do you live with that constant feeling of falling short or being in the wrong time? How does your body measure up? I am interested in your thoughts.

Visibly Shaken

Perhaps it is the triple threat of a new year, finding myself 60 years old and in a novel government job, that gets me peering hard into the calendar, the mirror and the myths. 

 

Self portrait, made of maps

The new year is a natural time to switch calendars and start new planners. January seems the month to revisit goals and make resolutions, and to reflect on how I have shown up, as well as who is new and who is missing. There are no kids in the house anymore. The covid years, and resulting lack of visitors, have me less defined by housework.

 

Self Portrait with Broom and Carmella's shoes

Being 60 adds a new cloak of invisibility to my wardrobe. Sometimes I am startled by my reflection, and I see how much I look like my mother. There is also a newfound sense of abandon. I care less about the social restraints of the patriarchy. I ache for a revitalized sisterhood, and I find myself greeting the moon, in all her cycles, as an old friend. My nurturing impulses, faced with an empty nest, have shifted my focus more deeply toward the community and wider environmental politics.

 

Self portrait with (map) wings

As Town Clerk of North East NY, I find myself in a totally novel position. I’m not a teacher, or an artist, or an explorer. Instead, I am a historian, a record keeper, a resource, and member of a tight group of secretaries. The childhood spent playing with office supplies has come full circle. I can be in my glory with file cabinets, complex self-inking stamps, binders, clips, and pens. People come to my office with questions I research. Every day is as varied as the season, and the faces are the people who make up this beautiful area. It’s an incredible honor to be trusted and of service. As one of the many rolls I play, I am also, quite unexpectedly, Receiver of the Taxes. It is a challenge. I think of the Beatles song. I think of sheriff Nottingham and Robin Hood. Nobody likes the tax collector. Anger, frustration, and fear is vented towards a cartoon figurehead, who happens, right now to be me!

 

Disney's Sheriff Nottingham

In the vein of owning my own visage, I have returned to my Art History as Seen through the Family Tree passion project. The grand narrative of history is a backdrop to multiple family members who participated in major movements. Each generation had its blind spot and from their personal stories and my perspective, I reflect in painting on a history that is far from perfect and continually revealing. My goal this winter and spring is to find an agent or publisher. I will be posting the process on my Instagram (tilly strauss) account and sharing insights as I go along.

 

Thank you for reading.

Signs and Numbers

 Just like we have Thanksgiving day to be thankful, we have New Year's day to reflect on the shadow of our footsteps, and muse upon our future strides. It falls on a calendar juncture, at the peak of winter, after the solstice shifts us minutely towards the sun. "Winter," as Paul Theraux said, "is a season of recovery and preparation".

This is the 16th year I have been blogging. Some years I am more consistent than others- but last year was the worst with the lowest amount of (25) postings. It looks like I logged in as more of a book reader than a writer! The number of books read is 27. 

In order to navigate the economics of my age and culture, I have become an example of a successful artist having multiple diverse income streams. For the last nine months I have been helping catalogue, archive and exhibit a collection of art by the late Carl T Linden of Chicago. Starting last summer I ran two very inspiring 6-week art coaching workshops for artists across the country. I have, since October of 2021, taken a job at the Town Hall as the Town Clerk. All of this is fascinating and leaves less time for personal practices.  

For several years...5 or 6 now...I have been writing and illustrating an art history text, based upon my family tree and inspired by ancestors who were influencers in the art world, going back beyond the fifteenth century. The project is huge and each year the research ebbs and flows. What keeps me going are the odd signs and messages that I seem to find just when I need a push to keep going.  

Here are two very recent examples. 

1. While cataloguing Carl T Linden's portrait paintings, most of which are unsigned, undated, and untitled, I came upon one that was a double portrait with the names of the sitters written on the back! Imagine my surprise to find one was Frances Cowles, and the other was Betty Groves of Bensenville, IL. This discovery was early summer, when I was debating a late summer trip to DesMoines ,Iowa with my mother to research the Cowles side of my family. Frances turns out to be a distant relative- our great, great, great, great, grandfathers were brothers. She is also the mother-in-law of the artist I am archiving! I took that as a sign to make the trip to Iowa in the path of my great grandmother Florence Cowles. 

Frances Cowles and Betty Graves by Carl T Linden, oil on canvas

2. While researching the Meskwaki Tribe, because of my great great grandfather's direct hand in taking land to establish the incorporated city of Algona, I have been slowed by the dread of my ancestors homesteading settler mentality of "Manifest Destiny" and their hands in the outright stealing of lands of First Peoples. My great great grandfathers and their brothers fought in the Black Hawk Wars, which not only massacred the indigenous peoples, but led to our government embracing policies of extermination. I read the story of the last great Comanche leader, Quanah Parker. I am lining up images as reference sources for some illustrations. This photo from the Ft Sill Museum shows Parker with guests at his Star House dining room. The art on the walls are advertising posters. The one behind his head is for the Strauss Brothers of Chicago! It feels like a sign from my ancestors to get my studio, and set up the process for painting again!

Quanah Parker entertaining in his home near the Wichita Mountains and cache Oklahoma c. 1885/ photo from Ft Sills Museum

I conclude, that I will keep doing many things; keep painting and writing; keep trying to stay healthy with walking and yoga practices; keep in community even in times of isolation and keep showing up for the Muse. 

In that vein: Can I ask you: What would you like to hear more about on this blog? 

                                            What interests you and is pertinent to this space? 

If you write me an answer, I will mail you a work of art in gratitude. 

                                            Leave comments below.

The October Blur

I was here. I am here. But much of it feels a blur. We had open studios over two weekends, and family. With 20 other #arteastdutchess creatives we opened our spaces and invited people to explore and see the world a bit like we do. We invited my brother's daughter Natalie to exhibit, Michael's daughter Kylie to read her published poetry (the Fever Poems), and my sister Gwen arrived from France to read from her book.

wolf paintings in the barn

Pa (julian), Michael and Me- with art clinic barn in the background

Invite to the Author reading Saturday the 16th

My wall art calendars for 2022 printed: For the Birds

Wolf painting painted during the open studios: Sneak

Author reading: Kyle Gellatly, Gwen Strauss, Julian Strauss

For a while the barn showed what was inside

Natalie Strauss with studio visitor, artist Alexis Rockman

We had over 77 people visit each weekend. The interaction was so valuable. It is hard to produce art in isolation and then open wide the doors to anybody. But I found it strengthening and invigorating. I also got a lot of tips and recommendations from people. I am full of gratitude.

Alyssa Kogan article on our Amenia portion of the tour in the 10.5.21 Hudson Valley News

 

Is Summer Over?

 

I’m only just recovering from the NECC summer enrichment program. Imagine spending every day making art with kids ages 5-11 and teen interns. It was awesome. One highlight was the week we spent on day hikes with Sachem HawkStorm, the chief of the Schaghticoke First Nations. He challenged a lot of our assumptions about the woods and how we approach our food and our history.  

 

My other joy this summer was the opportunity to spend a week in Iowa with my mother, just the two of us, traveling back to her childhood in Des Moines. We traveled even further back in time- visiting the town of Algona, that our family founded in 1847. I am working on an illustrated family tree text about my great grandmother, and we were able to meet with passionate members of the Kossuth County Historical Society who had tons of archives to share and were very helpful. The history of the founders is very much alive in the town today. Imagine my surprise to see a fresh colorful mural with my great great grandpa’s name in it?

Asa and Ambrose Call Founders of Algona

Less delightful was the awareness of the role our family had in the displacement of indigenous tribes. Mother and I traveled southeast of Algona to Tama, where the Meskwakie Nation have lands and a nice Tribal Cultural Center and Museum. It helped me get a better understanding of their culture and the impact of the homesteaders who stole their lands. I also identified the helpers who petitioned to let the Meskwakie return to their land, sold them acres, and advocated for their status as human beings under US law. Many of the helpers, like my great great grandparents, were horrified descendants or veterans of the Black Hawk wars.

 

When I am not writing or researching, I am painting a series of fairly silly wolf paintings. It is still too early for me to know what they mean. But I hope to have a few large unframed paintings for sale at my open studio in October. At that point I will make sure some of the proceeds goes to an organization that helps the wolves. They are in dire straits. If you have a suggestion which organization I should pair with, please let me know. I appreciate guidance here. A lot needs to be done.

 

I continue to do accountability art coaching via zoom. It’s been more fun than I expected. Now in my second 6-week session, I’ve found each group of artists to be inspiring, kind, and honorable. Every time I talk with them, I get so happy I just float! If you need help with your artistic practice, if you can’t get to the studio, let me help you show up. It’s all run through the MidHudson Arts Council in Poughkeepsie, though the participants are as far away as Colorado and South Carolina! Stay tuned for the virtual show of the participants work this winter.

 

Group shows on the calendar and places where you can see my work:

Opening on the 23^rd at ArtsMidHudson “Wish You Were Here” 5 x 7in. postcard show in Poughkeepsie NY. Through the 18^th the Reinstitute Millerton NY, see “Together in Isolation” outside underground installation. I just made the deadline! My work is called the Lost Keys of Covid. Closing the 24^th, my sketchbooks at the DM Hunt Library in Falls Village CT “Book Marks” show. My 6 large paintings at the Hammond Museum “Voices I Remember” show will be hanging through October, in North Salem, NY.  And through the 30^th, the Live4Art Gallery in Pawling NY features the Arteastdutchess studio tour preview show.

 

Thank you for reading through this. I hope you are well and finding creative outlets for your days.  Stay curious- Tilly

A Ride to the Past

My family is flawed. Because of that, the research into my roots for my art project has often stalled. I write about leaders and pioneers in their fields who are acclaimed for their achievements. Yet with a little searching I find them prejudiced, mysogynist, racist, or thieving. Many harbored opinions that I consider untenable today. My family story, much of it a story of white males, had to be balanced a bit by focus on the strong matriarchs. The women come to light (and literature) in the branch of Americans that wrote books and kept diaries. I want to focus on the brilliant and inspiring Florence Cowles, (1861- 1950), who grew up in Algona and traveled the world visiting schools and talking to teachers. That is what drove me to the Midwest last week- a need to gain a clearer perspective on the people I admire.

Florence and Gardner Sr and their home famous for mandatory Family Sunday Lunches

Our week in Iowa felt much fuller than a mere 7 days, for the amount of time we spent in the past. From the moment we landed at the airport and took the road named after my granddad into the city, we were faced with signs of family legacy from the late 1800's to mid 1900's. It was special traveling with my mother. She had grown very quiet over the summer, and on the trip her memories came flooding back. She remembered details, names and addresses and recounted little stories every where we went! I booked us a room in the Savery Hotel, Des Moines' first sky scraper at 13 stories, across from the Cowles Commons. We looked out to the capital building dome covered in 23 carot gold. Grand Avenue linked us to her childhood neighborhood, her grandparents home and the art center. 

Though Florence spent one year at the Chicago Institute of Art, her legacy is in the education emphasis of the Des Moines Art Center

After a few days in Des Moines we ventured up through a sea of corn and soy crops to Kossuth County and the town my relatives founded, Algona in 1854. Within minutes of arriving in the sleepy town, we saw fliers about the restoration of a family grave and colorful murals across multiple buildings referencing Asa and Ambrose, the patriarchs of our Cowles branch of the family! Ambrose is Florence's father. Needless to say, we were welcomed warmly to the Kossuth County Historical Society and quickly overwhelmed with the amount of information and personal items in the collection. All my questions were answered and I only wished my sisters could have been there to glean from their own perspective from the treasures on display. 

 

Mid week we visited the Meskwakie Nation in Tama, and had to ourselves an afternoon in the Tribal Museum. It was important for me because any story of my pioneer ancestors has to acknowledge the settler colonialism that crushed the indigenous population. Manifest Destiny was firmly in the minds of the pioneering Asa and Ambrose and the land they staked a claim to had other residents. 

 My time in Iowa answered many questions about the limitations of my ancestors and exposed me to their liberal leanings. I came to see that they were compassionate and on record as eventually supporting the Meskwakie (Sac and Fox) in their bid to return and own land. People like Governor Grimes were real heroes, changing the tide and protecting the native Iowans from the homesteaders. Florence's diary detailed some of the cultural interactions she witnessed between her mother and the destitute tribes that passed through. The stories of the settler's survival emphasized their willingness to treat the natives fairly and peacefully in all transactions. I learned about a handful of other people who also felt the enslavement of blacks and the incarceration of natives were wrong and to be protested. I feel relieved that Florence spent time and money securing decent support for the natives and spoke up about the civil rights of all those less fortunate. 

 

Of course there was Hezekiah, Ambrose' wife's father... my great great great grandfather and Florence Cowles' grandfather). He and his brothers fought in the Black Hawk and Civil war, clearing the natives away from good farm lands and from potential cross-continental routes to rich mines.

Exploring my Settler Legacy

My family is full of creatives, risktakers and influencers, so it is inevitable fodder for a project to go looking for them. In search of the story behind my great grandmother Florence Call Cowles, I am off on a week-long adventure of research and memory-lane type of wanderings.

Florence and Gardner on their Around the World Trip in 1924

 

The first stop is Des Moines Iowa- the birthplace of my mother- and here I should share that I will be dragging her in tow. It has been since 1994 that we were last in the city. Our plans are to visit the art museum, the newspaper, the health clinic, performing arts center, the Cowles Commons, Drake University, the old neighborhood, and then travel to Tama and the Meskwakie Indian Reservation before ending in Algona- the county seat created by Florence's father, Ambrose Call. 

My suitcase of maps

Originally, I thought my mom and I could rent a car and set out across NY state and meander though the upper midwest to reach DesMoines, after visions of fruitful conversations and daydreams over rural landscapes, but my mother was less than enthused. She has tried to convonce me not to do this trip, practically begging my boyfriend to take her side. I know we will have fun and, like a reversal of the parent child relationship, I believe this will be good medicine for us. We will enjoy it, God dammit! 

Mom at lunch wondering what the hell we are up to

And I have compromised with plane tickets to Des Moines and a rental car just for the state driving needs. And a really nice hotel for the first few nights.

Day to day postings will be on my Instagram: tilly Strauss

More will follow here as I summarize my findings. Wish me luck. Wish US luck.

Virus Anniversary Ponderings on a Plague Saint

 

Marking the anniversary of yearlong pandemic-induced closures and nationwide isolation, I am drawn to St Sebastian as a perfect devotional image. Depicted tied to a column, tree or stake, he is riddled with arrows and gazing, with a beatific smile, up to the heavens.

Back during Bubonic plagues of 17^th century Europe, Christians embraced the saint as an intercessor for their prayers. Sebastian, who lived in Rome, became a martyr who submitted to torture and was left for dead twice. He seemed to defy odds, surviving arrow wounds and beatings. For that reason, he could serve as a lightening rod to relieve and protect others from the plague.  

 

There are other saints to pray to for help in times of plagues, such as the Virgin Mary and St Roch, but St Sebastian seems to be the perfect one for me.

His ideal physique, riddled with arrows has come to symbolize the toleration of multiple zoom meetings and multiplying obituary pages, while the archers, who run away on the receding road, are the business commitments and goals of a “get-me-ahead-at-any-cost” lifestyle. The calendar is the rubble of antiquity around us. I strive for the verticality, and the connection to God.

 

St Sebastian By Botticelli

, Tempera on panel, 1474 (Berlin)

In the 14^th century the “Black Death” killed 30 million people in Europe alone, and an estimated 75 to 200 million across Eurasia. Some people blamed God and turned to focus less on the afterlife and more on a humanist philosophy of earthly delights. Many blamed marginal groups such as the Jews, and instituted brutal and devastating pogroms. The movement of the Flagellants reflected a growing belief that self –harm could win God’s favor and spare the body or even the community. Many people attended gruesome performances of the faithful whipping themselves into frenzy. In the port of Venice, they instituted a law for 30-day isolation applicable to all incoming ships, called a “trentino”, and then extended that for what we now call a “quarantino”

In the 15^th and 16^th century, with the European hunger for world exploration, (and exploitation), 80 to 90% of indigenous populations in the Americas were wiped out by small pox.

Just this week America reached a milestone of 500.000 deaths due to Covid. There hasn’t been public mass mourning until President Biden and VP Harris stood in silence with 500 lit candles. We seem like Sebastian, suspended between two deaths, those of our loved ones and possibly ours. St Sebastian reminds us of that as he is depicted still alive a moment or two before his death. He shares in our personal vulnerability.

 

 Featured art work:

Digital drawing, dimensions variable. Last May, my 82 year old mother had to undergo massive surgery on a rare abdominal cancerous tumor during the Covid crisis. We had to drop her off outside the hospital and wait to hear from her after hours of surgery and recovery. I did this drawing as a prayer and a nod to St. Sebastian. (And mom's doing great!)

Thankful to be a teacher

My Classroom in Zermatt was in a hotel, with tables lined up for a dozen students in each of the 4 classes. We covered the development of art and it's reflection on human's search for meaning, from prehistory to the Baroque periods. The students came from all over the United States and were high-achieving, brilliant, kind kids. They soaked in all the information and then, because we lived together, I was able to witness the real life application of their knowledge in conversations over dinner or walks in the village, and in the field trip to France. We moved in pods to keep clear of the virus and were together 24/7. Between classes we were with them as we traveled, hiked or skied.

I am so grateful for the opportunity to improve my teaching. I had a co teacher, Nicki D'Onofrio, who really knew her Italian classics and shared her passion for mythology. Together we bounced through the material and learned from each other. It was great having a partner so young and vivacious... as an exercise freak, she was nicknamed by the kids, "Quadzilla". I was called "Bob Ross" as my radio label, perhaps because I could seem pretty calm no matter the incident?

The sweetest part of the whole gig was being able to teach live.We did not resort to screens or virtual environments. The kids were stripped of any technology- no phones or computers, and they wrote everything out in pen or pencil! Research involved library books. Very old school. 

It took a lot to write out essays and make note cards and read 20 pages of text book a night. So the rapid hikes over mountain passes and to trail huts really did keep the body in check and help the focus. 

The schedule for a school day looked like: early breakfast and pack a lunch, three-hour-long morning classes within the hotel, a 5-hour break where we skied or climbed or hiked, followed by three more classes in the evening, a quick sit down dinner, a two-hour study hall and a 15-minute break before lights out! This went on for days, and days, regardless of the calendar! Then suddenly there would be an announcement of brunch, followed by a two-day hike or a 70-mile bike trip or paragliding options. 

While I was teaching, I was learning. A lot.

Dignity for Jo Davidson

This is personal family history, art history and American History!

Taken from text written by Bradbury Kuett:

The Centerpiece of the Louis I. Kahn designed FDR Four Freedoms State Park on Roosevelt Island in New York is a triumphant bronze head of FDR, sculpted by the renowned artist Jo Davidson, a fervent supporter and friend of the president.

At the park's entrance there are engraved the names of the architect, the founder of the Park Conservancy, and the donors, but Jo Davidson's name is nowhere to be found.

Appeals to the board to engrave Jo Davidson's name have been met with silence. This unfortunate oversight, inconsequential in the view of the board, is a slight that, in effect, denies Jo Davdison his rightful recognition in American art History. Whereas Jo Davidson should be heralded as an American success story of consummate artistry, the board's silence is an outrage thrown onto the great heap of innuendos and falsities hurled upon Jo, a native son of the lower east side.

Jo Davidson should be celebrated beyond prominence as an artist. Chairman of Independent Voters' Committee of the Arts and Sciences for Roosevelt, and vice chairman of Emergency Committee to Save the Jewish People of Europe, Jo chose with a colleague the site of the Warsaw Ghetto Memorial Piaza in Riverside Park.

While Jo was under constant surveillance during the Cold War, the government targeted his two sons. Jacques (Tilly's note: my stepgrandfather) a Voice of Freedom (VOA) to the French under German occupation, was blacklisted, fired from CBS radio without cause. U.S. agents urged without success, Agence France Presse in D.C. to fire Jean.

Of note, Danielle Benedite, brother of Jacques wife, worked with Varian Fry in Marseille France, and saved some 1500 people from Nazi capture.

We ask that the Park's Board Chair Barbara Shattuck Kohn, Vice Chair Katrina vanden Heuvel and President Sally Minard redress this unjust situation by engraving the name of Jo Davidson on a plaque at the Park's entrance, similar to the one honoring Loius. I. Kahn. And we ask your support in this effort

Facebook: DignityforJodavidson

contact dignity4JoDavidson@gmail.com

Storms and blessings as Tree stories continue

We had a terrible storm. 

The trees were thrashing about, their limbs flying through the air. Leaves and acorns and twigs covered the ground. I heard cracks and soft heavy thuds. Every tree around me completely defined the wind.

 After the storm passed, the next day was sunny and the air filled with sounds of chainsaws and generators. My Pa was out there removing huge trees off the fence lines and feeling gleeful about the winter fuel. 

Living on a farm in the country means you live in the company of trees. I continue investigating into my insecurities, by painting 100 trees....

I am tapping into my youthful artist within and reflecting on the models and memories of my artistic path.

This is an early memory of the first art club I belonged to. My dad started the Home Farm Artist's Association by placing his daughters and nieces on the hay wagon, with a can of crayons, while he worked the fields. We drew all day, side by side, eeking out our own interpretations of the landscape, and mounted shows in the evening for our grandparents and their cocktail party friends to enjoy.

Such is the life and the good foundations of an artist's family. I feel blessed.

Image of the "Mother of Modern Medicine" Inspires Hope for Vaccine.

As we try to “flatten the curve” of stress on our medical facilities and healthcare workers, we pray for a vaccine against Covid19. Doctors are studying patient responses and leaning over lab Petri dishes with questions. No doubt they will turn to the immortal cells of Henrietta Lacks, called HeLa cells, that have helped fight numerous diseases from Polio, Ebola, Parkinson’s to AIDS.  

Who was Henrietta Lacks?

Henrietta Lacks, a young mother of five, died in 1951 at John Hopkins Hospital from cervical cancer that her Doctor noted "looked like pearls". He had stitched tubes and pouches filled with radium inside her cervix, as was standard treatment at the time for invasive cervical cancer. He also took some cell samples from her cervix, without her knowledge or consent, which was also standard practice at that time.

Henrietta, the great, great, granddaughter of a slave, died that same year at the age of 31. Her cells in the lab replicated quickly and continually and amazed the doctor with their seeming immortality. They were the first human cells to reproduce outside the body! Afraid of being sued, the doctor gave the cells a code name, “HeLa” and shared them in labs across the country. They are still the most commonly used cells in research today.

The story turns rough when you learn that in the 1970’s some scientists, with secret agendas, did research on Henrietta Lacks' children without their informed consent. Then in 1975, a family friend asked about the source of the Lacks cells that his coworkers, at the National Cancer Institute, were studying. It brought a light to the two decades of darkness that the Lacks family had been kept in.

A book was written, then an HBO movie. In 2010 the John Hopkins Hospital donated a grave marker to her unmarked plot. It says: “Here lies Henrietta Lacks, Her immortal cells will continue to help mankind forever.”

To say that Lacks is a global phenomenon would be limiting. In 1962 her cells were launched into outer space aboard a Russian satellite for study. Two years ago, the National Museum of African American History ofCulture and the National Portrait Gallery jointly acquired a painting of Lacks. It adds a beautiful and much needed face to the woman often called “the mother of modern medicine”.

Kadir Nelson with his painting of Lacks

Who painted her portrait?

Kadir Nelson (b.1974), an American artist, was commissioned by HBO for the 2017 movie premier of “The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks”, to paint the first portrait of Lacks. An author of several best-selling children’s books on African-American culture and lead artist for Steven Spielberg’s 1997historical drama Amistad, Nelson is known for his larger than life portraits of African American leaders. According to his website, Nelson chooses “subject matter that has emotional and spiritual resonance and focuses on the journey of the hero as it relates to the personal and collective stories of people."

There was no portrait in existence of Lacks save for two small family photos. Nelson used those as well as a vocabulary of symbolism to tell Lacks' story. Standing in a red dress, Nelson paints a yellow straw hat as a halo around Lacks’ head. Her strong faith is reflected in the bible she holds with her hands crossed over her womb. A complex “Flower of Life” pattern against which she stands is the ancient symbol for immortality and exponential growth. The pearls around her neck reflect the doctor’s note about how her cancer grew. A pendant of a nest represents motherhood and the hope of fresh birth. The repeating flower pattern on the dress symbolizes the biological bounty that she shed without knowledge for our salvation. The most poignant details are the two small buttons missing from her dress. They symbolize that something precious was taken from her.

Hopefully, soon the HeLa cells will demonstrate another cure.