While the immortal William Shakespeare may have written, “The eyes are the window to your soul,” I beg to differ. For while we can hide within even the most direct of glances, the voice doesn’t lie. This is something that I have been thinking about in recent conversations with my friend Vickie, who is dipping into the realm of author’s reading their work (her book is coming out on June 1, so more of that anon).
Where does your voice live in your body? Is it something that you give much thought to? As a former theatre actress, I most certainly have in my day, for it is the most expressive tool in our art. And yet, my voice has changed enormously since moving to France. It took me a few years to realize it, actually. I would only drop back into that deep alto on visits home to the States. The rest of the time my pitch was nearly an octave higher as I questioningly tested words and verb tenses. Gone was that reassuring flow. And it stayed that way for many years as I learned and struggled and stumbled with a very difficult language. And today? Well, I suppose that my voice has settled with time and the confidence that comes with age into somewhere in-between. It seems like there is a lot of the in-between in my life these days and that too I have to assume, to be more sure (for when are we ever 100% certain of anything) and listen keenly to another voice, my inner one.
All the better to see you with, my dear.
As for artistic voices? To live a creative life is fascinating and challenging with many colors that blend seamlessly into one another. It takes enormous courage to put yourself out there over and over again, sometimes only to be repeatedly dealt the brutal blow of rejection. But such a life is not chosen, it chooses you. This is why I have such enormous respect for those who endure. I was incredibly inspired by an article on Flavorwire featuring “10 creative women over 80 you should know.” I thought that you might be too.
These women are not bogged down by the cult of personality and none of them are afraid of their vision, their voice. The windows to their souls are dazzlingly clear.
But you do!! Loree, you do. What is your writing? It is beautiful, that is what it is.
Isn't that true, Judith? But then, I had journal writing. 🙂 I loved these awesome women warriors too.
And so you noticed the live feed? I get the biggest kick out of that!
Oooh, je pense que tu as beaucoup, beacoup du temps encore, Silke! 😉 And yes, so much to do…I love the La Varda story–I can just see it…
Ain't that the truth, Mr. L. All while trying to keep that inner flame protected so it doesn't go out.
Yes, still. Thanks so much for understanding and replying. Joan, ironically sometimes "honored" for work with Red Cross in Viet Nam, 66-67. And still alive!
The stories of your voice changes are fascinating. My voice has changed every time I have moved country. It's very unreliable. Fabulous, inspirational women.
Yes, Elizabeth has a website…..a develpoment which tickled her to no end a few years back. It was set up, with her permission of course, by (as I recall) two graduate students in literature at Chapel Hill. At the time, I and several others considered that The World could probably limp on just fine without two more masters theses on Flannery O'Connor, but it suddenly seemed a much nicer place when two gradstudents did such a nice, genuinely helpful thing for an old lady writer.
—-david terry
What wonderful company, and those women over 80… Elizabeth Spencer, THE Elizabeth Spencer has a website: http://www.elizabethspencerwriter.com/index.htm
Wow.
xox, V
Dear Heather:
I found your blog via Sara in La Petit Village and I really enjoy reading and finding that calming effect in your writings accompanied by your beautiful pictures. Right now I am 54 years old and laid off my last job in 2010. Since then, my husband has retired from his job, we made the decision to move from our big city life to a country one in July, and I am still asking what-am-I-going-to-do-now-that-I-am-grown-up? I feel these past fours years of being unemployed have been my "a-ha" moment to get on with that artistic career I've always wanted and to start it now, this minute (especially since most of the packing is now completed!) Thanks for the wonderful article (I printed it and have it on my inspiration board),encouragement and keep up with the great work you do. Sincerely, Mrs. Lamar Mendiola
Oh, Joan…..I hear you. Still?….your comment prompted me to recall a scene from Bruce Chatwin's novel "On the Black Hill" that takes places around 1916 (the entire novel spans 1890-to-1970 or so). In that scene, the local, rural, Welsh authorities organize an enormous, outdoor GALA (!!!!)….the star fixture of which is the last surviving veteran of the Crimean War or some similarly gruesome conflict. They roll him out in his wheelchair. hang medals around his neck, and make speeches about him (he's unable to speak, himself) while several of the village's prettiest and most-sought-after girls drape garlands around his neck and wheelchair.
Then?….the party starts in earnest, and everyone loses him/herself in the gay abandon of dancing and drinking and generally having a Very Good Time…..until a violent thunderstorm suddenly blows in. Everyone scrambles for cover in tents and outbuildings. Eventually, everyone just gives up and goes home.
It's not until the next morning that a few people begin asking a few other people if anyone remembered to pick up "The Veteran" whom they'd been "honoring". Turns out that, in the melee over rain-ruined frocks and sodden buffet-tents, NObody had thought to retrieve him from the speakers' platform.
He's found dead, still in his wheelchair and on the damned platform (and still covered with garlands and medals) that morning.
It's one of the most grimly amusing scenarios in all of gossip-y Chatwin's writings. It's also based on a true (unfortunately) incident following the armistice.
Thanks for your insightful and genuinely instructive comment.
—-david terry
http://www.davidterryart.com