Healing Artist's blog

Diary by David Feldman, M.M.

David Feldman, M.M.

Cellist

Artist-in-Residence

 

 

7/11/14

This morning at the rehabilitation center I played on several floors. There was much discussion surrounding the storytelling aspect of the Bach suites. Many explained how the music brought them back to a better time in their life. Others described images that were brought to mind, such as walking through forest or an artist painting. Most of the patients don’t regularly listen to classical music, but many mentioned they would like to add some Bach suites to their playlist.

Listening, Learning, Connecting by Cara Ellen Modisett

Listening, Learning, Connecting

I've worked for many years as a reporter for magazines and radio, and sometimes my favorite part of that work has been not the writing but the interviewing. I tell students and young writers: a good interview is a conversation. It's not about the Q&A - it's about listening, learning, connecting. The words you write afterwards are a way to tell the story, to clarify and understand. And the stories we tell are the stories that connect us all as human beings.
 

Art is in the Air at Carilion

Among the many guests with whom I had moving conversations this past weekend was a handsome young man who came up to me and pointed out an extensive scar. "I know it will sound crazy at first," he said, "but I wanted you to see that I survived this injury and got 77 stitches. I had been touch-and-go for 7 minutes, in the emergency room, back when this happened, but the angels helped me stay. I say angels because when the accident happened and I was unconscious, I saw 7 angels. So you can see that 7 is my lucky number, or that's how I see it. And the only thing as lucky as 7 in a long time is getting to see your art here."

 

Honey Flows by Jane Lillian Vance

I saw a beautiful young woman standing at a distance from me as I worked. I noticed her watching several interactions. Eventually, I asked if she were an artist--and she approached, barely able to hold herself together, and introduced herself. She was the oldest grandchild and her hero (grandfather) was dying. We had an amazing talk. She asked if I would accompany her upstairs to visit her grandfather, and I considered it a tremendous honor. He was surrounded by family and we had healing arts connections we enjoyed sharing with one another.

Does This Work? by Jude Prashaw

This morning I put on a gown and gloves and walked into her room in pediatrics. She is 17, two hours away from home and all alone. Now and then she winced in pain, not quite recovered from a recent surgery. “I don’t know what to make”, she said, as I handed her a lump of clay.  “Anything you want,” I told her. She pressed and molded the clay and soon a small figure with long hair appeared, soft and delicate and faceless. “It’s lovely,” I said. “I will put your figure into my boat that is in the lobby,” I told her; she will be a passenger in Hope Floats. I gathered my tools, placed the clay back in my bag and said, “I hope I don’t see you again, at least not here in the hospital.” “Me too,” she said and thanked me for coming.  

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