Mourning with Those Who Mourn

On the one hand, I want everyone to be able to feel what I felt, to see what I saw. On the other hand, I want you to feel a little bit of regret that you missed it, too. That regret might motivate you to seek it out next time, to not let it pass you by. So, not guilt! But seriously; you missed something amazing.

Mrs. L just finished doing the most complicated, difficult, stressful job EVER! The culimnation of months of effort, hundreds of man-hours of meetings and organization, thousands of dollars of fees, insurance. She was in charge of this year's (it's Bi-annual, so the next one isn't until 2010) Quilt Show, hosted by her guild, the Flying Geese.

It is always amazing, always busy, this quilt show. I love seeing quilters congregate. There is no other art form that so thoroughly cultivates and welcomes so many aspects of art and human behavior. There are traditional quilters, who favor muted colors, standard patterns. Utilitarian quilters, in it only for something warm to cover the bed. Fabric artists that view quilts as another canvas, using paint and fabric interchangeably. Message quilters, telling stories. Heirloom quilters, who despair at the thought of any of their work being touched. Prodigious quilters who make gifts for every occasion. Theme quilters who make every production about their favorite thing. Funny, formal, artistic, crafty, hippy, traditional, comforting, wild, sedate, practical, outrageous, avant garde, smooth, disturbing. Room for everyone at this table.

And Mrs. L right there, herding the cats exactly where they need to be.

It was a riot of color, a beehive of activity Friday night setting up. This year, there was a particular feature of the exhibit that Mrs. L was very pleased to have arranged. "Alzheimer's: Forgetting Piece by Piece!" is an exhibition of 52 quilts assembled by the Alzheimer's Art Quilt Initiative (AAQI). The quilts are "poignant interpretations of the Alzheimer's experience in fiber".

The AAQI had some interesting, and very specific requirements for the installation. The quilts had to be displayed on black backgrounds (most quilt shows display against white). The sections had to be 10 feet wide (the display equipment the Flying Geese have is 8 feet wide). It came more as an travelling exhibit of art. In fact, a good number of the venues that host and display it are not quilt shows.

Mrs. L was justifiably delighted to have the chance to participate, but wearied by the burden of it. It was a long month getting ready for the show, all the extra meetings. When the weekend of the installation finally arrived, she was already exhausted, and us with her. But she powered through. She is one of the strongest people I know, and I envy her work ethic!

Now, I've spent my whole adult life around quilts. Mrs. L is an artist of rare vision and talent, and living with her has been to my great benefit. I am surrounded with beauty and the life of her art. So I when I was ferrying materials to her during the set up for this exhibit, I was excited to see the quilts that were going up. I was not prepared for the power of the AAQI exhibit.

Mrs. L did a masterful job emphasizing the particular nature of the AAQI quilts, putting them in the center of the large gymnasium where the show was set up. I suspect her new future dream job would be as curator of some amazing gallery. She arranged the wall space for the exhibit as an enclosed square, so you could circle the outside seeing the first half of them, and then move inside through a baffled openeing and see the remainder of the quilts.

In the center, you were secluded from the rest of the show. The black fabric removed you from the crowds moving by, and a bench was there to sit on. Some of the quilts were almost abstract, some very specific biographical memorials. All were about Alzheimer's; its effect on the victim, on the families. Prospects, fears, memories. Each quilt had a posted statement from the artist discussing the quilt and its meaning.

I consider myself a fairly empathetic person, and have been moved by the stories of many people over the years. This was different, on a different scale. Every quilt I stopped to look at closely, I could feel the emotion, the power of its message. It radiated, like heat from a stove. Waves of melancholy, weary, tired mourning. The lifetimes of intelligence and good humor that slowly disappear under the relentless progress of Alzheimer's Disease. It made me feel a member of the human race, a sibling to everyone. I could feel the joint burden of our trials settle on my shoulders, and was comforted to know that the burden was lighter for being shared by all of us.

Setting up was busy, but each time I stopped to look at a quilt, I could feel tears forming in my eyes. Not entirely of sadness, but the catharsis of mourning.

Life is a difficult process, as full of setback and heartache as it is of triumph and victory. Feeling the wash of human emotion at this exhibit enobled me, made me certain that I can succeed in dealing with whatever comes. When we mourn with others, we give them a community's worth of acceptance and strength. They give us their wisdom.