On reverence, art & week 21 of 52
a house built from paper and a series of new experiences
I taught a writing workshop with Italiana Tours this past October.
Over the last few days in Italy, I met many artisans. Our tour was in Le Marche, a region of Italy nestled between the Apennine Mountains and the Adriatic Sea. Small, remote towns in this area overflow with passion, tradition, history, art, unforgettable food, and a sense of community and camaraderie that (it seems) those in the States can barely imagine outside of our guarded social circles.
The towns we visited have their own issues, of course, political and social. They are sparsely populated and, due to climate change, many family businesses face uncertain harvests year-to-year, which impacts crop and product production. As a result of the low population, hospitals and schools have moved, and people must learn to rely on the few others around them, along with those like me who float through town to visit, teach, and learn to make a living or expand their reach.
Must we really trade high-touch human connection and fresh food for exponential growth, fast-paced abundance, and comfort?
Whether the either/or of life holds weight, it is undeniable that the artists in these towns live and create with personal and relational reverence.
The remoteness and the focused nature of a life not overwhelmed by noise allow for the patience needed when seeking artistic mastery and honing craft. It also seems a smaller town reliant on interconnectivity naturally lends itself to more hugging, smiles, and greetings; more celebration of creativity.
I remember reading about how the small daily interactions, even with strangers—especially with strangers or people you only know from seeing around the way—add to our overall sense of contentment because there is no exchange beyond the niceties and kindness of the moment. With strangers and those we barely know, there is merely a recognition of a shared existence. It is a beautiful recognition.
The artists I’ve met in Italy, including iconic papermaker Sandro Tiberi and printer and artist Carla Luminati shared their wisdom with a group of strangers — writers and artists they may never see again or whom they barely know. They did so with generosity and an obvious reverence for their art. It is not always the way with artists, academics, and writers I know, and I found it uniquely inspiring.
Anyone actively living in this multifaceted world and practicing with intention and care can make their lives and creations ART. Anyone who challenges or stretches their perspective by dedicating to mastery (attained or not) is an artist.
Anyone tackling the same question from endless angles is an artist. But all of the above when combined with connectivity offers more rewards than we can imagine when we’re just concerned with something like getting the book deal (or selling as many books as the other guy, etc, etc).
This leads me to a few prompts …
A year to live (AYTL) prompt: Greet someone you wouldn’t ordinarily greet. Or share the knowledge you have without any expectations. In person. High touch.
Writing prompt: Write about combining new perspectives with unexpected connections.
I am still on the road, so here are a few pics. If you’re interested in joining me on this Italiana Tour in the future (which includes a week of writing workshops), do let me know. Ciao!
Meeting and greeting another person on the road is one of the most human things any of us can do. Happy to see these beautiful images of your time in Italy!
Loving your messages and pictures, Jen!