The Art of My Grief
and meeting Deborah Rael-Buckley, Studio Quemazon, Taos, NM
In May 2014, a few weeks after my father’s unexpected and horrible death, I was faced with a 9-day road trip with five other women. The thought of going terrified me. The thought of not going terrified me as well. So I went.
Most of the trip, I ferociously clutched the steering wheel on a 30-foot Cruise America RV, my eyes laser pointed on the road, steeling myself against wave over wave of immense grief. About midway through our travels, we found ourselves being led through Taos, New Mexico by a kind and generous artist, Robert Cafazzo.
Taos holds a mixed bag of the mystical and the emotional for me, almost always with a touch of spiritual vibrations. I’ve never been able to quite explain how I’m drawn to Taos, and yet I rarely answer the call to go there. I wasn’t sure what I’d find there this time, but I did my best to open my dark, clenched heart.
Robert directed us down a dusty road, the RV rocking gently on uneven ground. We parked in front of Quemazon, the art studio of Deborah Rael-Buckley. (Quemazon, I thought: Quema — burn + Corazon — heart. Burning heart…?). An art studio. My dream.
Deborah graciously showed us her creations— large, delicately complex porcelain sculptures, female forms filled with small found objects and symbolism. She handed out a postcard with images of some of her other work. Pictured was a blueish gray form with hands held at the heart/throat, two oars in the skirt of swirling water, a white/gray cloud suspended over it.
This is me, I thought, then asked Deborah about the piece.
She said it was called “Into the White Sky” and that it was about her grief after the death of her father. I felt the room close in on me and started to cry. My travel companions moved in toward me, I felt a hand on my back, and somehow the explanation for my reaction — that my father had just died — was shared.
Deborah went on to tell me that at first, the cloud rested squarely on the shoulders of the form and that the waters were grief and the oars were a futile attempt to navigate. Eventually, she went on, she realized that the cloud of her pain was no longer directly on her shoulders but floating above her so she moved the cloud of her art as well.
Here is Deborah’s explanation for the piece from her website:
After a month of struggles, my father died on December 29, 2011. I come from a large family and until recently we have all been healthy and hale. But this event has affected me deeply and the result was this piece. I have the female figure in a turbulent sea of water that is about to overtake her. Her oars are useless beside her-making it impossible to navigate. On the oars are a raised text that repeats: Into the white sky”. The hands reach to her face to stiffle emotions. The arms are covered with flowers and butterflies. The flowers signfy those tossed into a grave and the butterflies refer to transformation from one realm to another. A cloud serves as her head or mind, which hangs hovering as she tries to break through her grief. Gold inglaze decals on the cloud are the text from the Lord’s Prayer in Spanish, and a female form lies with her head buried in her arms at the top of the cloud.
Deborah gave me permission to share these images:
Deborah hugged me as we left her studio, said some kind words from one grieving daughter to another, and we went on our way. Months passed, and just as I thought of my Dad on a regular basis, falling again and again into turbulent oceans of grief, I also thought of this sculpture and of art.
For years, I’ve believed that my art is writing. I’ve always wanted to create more tangible, physical art but cringe at my own creations, overly critical and self-conscious. Recently, I’ve forced myself let go of fearful and limiting thoughts and started painting.
I like to say “I have no idea what I’m doing” because it gives me permission to get lost and explore my way out of the paint.
I’m experimenting. I’m diving into color. And doing this is making me see the world around me differently. I’m noticing patterns, hues and shades I’d never seen before with my writer eyes. My painter eyes are wide, wide open.
Thank you, Robert Cafazzo and Deborah Rael-Buckley, for the inspiration. Thank you, Taos, for the mystical, emotional, spiritual vibe. I’ll be back soon.
