Submitted by Healing Artist on Wednesday, July 16, 2014 - 4:21pm
Jane Lillian VanceA Friday as Artist-in-Residence,Carilion Roanoke Memorial Hospital
"WHAT are you doing?" I turned to see a woman smiling at the pencil work in progress for the Summer painting in The Pirouette of Seasons.
"Well, the action in this composition begins when this mother touches her...
Submitted by Healing Artist on Wednesday, July 16, 2014 - 4:17pm
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...
Submitted by Healing Artist on Wednesday, July 16, 2014 - 4:10pm
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...
Submitted by Healing Artist on Monday, June 23, 2014 - 2:26pm
The Privilege of Being Loved
"I'm a first-grade teacher," one hospital guest walked up to my Spring painting in progress and effused, as if she were a palomino who had just whinnied down a pasture full of pegasus colts and fillies, "And my classroom is the whole world!"
"How do you mean?" I...
Submitted by Healing Artist on Wednesday, June 4, 2014 - 2:32pm
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-...
Submitted by Healing Artist on Tuesday, May 27, 2014 - 11:24am
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...
Submitted by Healing Artist on Tuesday, May 27, 2014 - 11:21am
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...
Submitted by Healing Artist on Wednesday, April 30, 2014 - 12:03pm
A simple invitation: “Please write a note of concern on a piece of paper, place the paper in the bowl of water; I will incorporate your notes into the clay boat that is called Hope Floats.
An overflowing response; I often return from working in Pediatrics to see a bowl of notes floating in water...
Submitted by Healing Artist on Monday, April 7, 2014 - 10:56am
I walked into her room in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
“I’m an artist,” I said.
“Awesome,” she said.
We were off to a good start. I placed a lunch tray upon her lap,
opened a bag of clay and pulled out my toolbox filled with screws and plastic threaded dowels...
Submitted by Healing Artist on Thursday, March 27, 2014 - 4:24pm
I Don’t Know
“Hello,” I said, as I entered his hospital room: his thin lips pressed into a grimace, his head bent toward his blanket He did not want to play in clay. He did not look at me, even though last week he had fun making a small, bug-eyed sculpture.
“He’s not a happy camper today,”...