I am haunted by an experience.
I am haunted by the image of the experience.
I am haunted by these themes during Art Every Day Month: Women Artists and Writers who left us too early, primarily due to mental illness - mostly depression.
I love cemeteries. I know there is a schism between those of us who LOVE cemeteries and those of you who think cemeteries are fine, from far away.
The cemetery I am using thus far in “Women’s Sphere?” is one of the most unique cemeteries I visited. I was couchsurfing in Connecticutt . My host, DeAnn, who I also visited recently in Vermont, took us on a quirky tour of her town, including the historic site, Connecticut Valley Hospital.
A bit of history: “The Connecticut Hospital for the Insane was formally opened in Middletown in 1868. Two years earlier, Middletown had granted the site to the State for the establishment of an asylum to accommodate Connecticut's mentally ill. By 1896, four groups of buildings had been erected and the institution was one of the largest of its kind in the country.”
What fascinated me most, though, was our last stop: the cemetery where there were rows and rows of graves. These graves were marked with numbers, not names. These were nameless, unclaimed mentally ill individuals who died without anyone. They left behind…. Numbers.
Among these, I am sure, are plenty women who had postpartum depression or psychosis, brilliant young women who lost their minds in late adolescent and most probably, some women signed into the hospital by husbands or family members who may not have even been mentally ill. This was the 19th Century, after all. Women couldn’t vote or own property or make their own decisions.
Women were, primarily, chattel.
For these women, this was there adult home where songs were left unsung, words were left unwritten, stage plays never found an audience and paint brushes forever packed away, out of reach.
This piece, you may notice, has a home in the heart in the middle. It is the tower representing the Yellow Wallpaper towel. In actuality, it is the writing tower of Nathaniel Hawthorne who was tormented for different reasons.
This is The Yellow Wallpaper House from yesterday and the HOME piece and my cat, Constance, lurking outside. I found that to be a poignant metaphor.
This is a photo capturing What's Now and What's Next. The spiffy item underneath home... oh, I remember when Country Kitchens were the thing and these were everywhere. Anyway, now it is turning into a memorial for Sara Teasdale, first woman recipient of the Pulitzer Prize. She was a melodic, sentimental poet who some appreciated and some scoffed.
I love her and her work. When I was working on "Home" she kept coming into my
almost pleading with me to include her.
Sara Teasdale was born August 8, 1884 in St. Louis Missouri. She died, a suicide, on January 29, 1933. This date is actually twenty nine years to the day from my birth. Intriguing… yes.
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© 2012 by Julie Jordan Scott
Julie Jordan Scott has been a Life & Creativity Coach, Writer, Facilitator and Teleclass Leader since 1999. She is also an award winning Actor, Director, Artist and Mother Extraordinaire. She was twice the StoryTelling Slam champion in Bakersfield. She leads Writing Camp with JJS & this Summer will be traveling throughout the US to bring this unique, fun filled creative experience to the people wherever she finds the passion & the interest.
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