The day of your opening was a truly powerful
day. I decided to open a package that my grandmother
sent. I knew it had some things of my grandfathers.
He passed about two years ago. I could not attend
the funeral. The package had sat for a week waiting
for the right time and moment. Complete in
89-year-old grandmother fashion, address typed from
an old typewriter and a string around it for extra
security. For some reason that Friday morning was
the time. In it was a sweater and my grandfather’s
4th Infantry Division Book from World War
found my grandfather’s picture in there and cried.
The young faces of all the men. He could never talk
about the war, tears would well in his eyes and you
knew just to leave it alone. Holding candle light
vigils in Dillon for me was for my grandfather. It
changed him, but how I’ll never know. On top of
all this it was the anniversary of D-Day. On the
news all day they talked about it, and then I came
to your opening, wow . . . I take a lot of it with
me. You’ve given me a great gift, it’s a day I’ll
I had already spent a lot of time with the book
before coming – it sits easel-style in our living
room, right beside me as I drink cocoa in the
evening. So the journey through the series was one I’ve
taken already many times. What amazed me, being
here, was what a tremendous difference there is
between prints and the REAL THING. To see every
stroke in each piece, each stitch, and think of
those times & places that you were in as you
made them – wow. You completely captured those
moments which now, for good & bad both, none of
us can fully return to. Thank you for your
incredible openness, it has always been a gift to
us, your friends.
It is moving, spirals me, gives a new
way to honor the dying process – varied media used
reminds me that we grieve in various ways. I heard
echoes from an recently read book called Leap by
Terry Tempest Williams- her response to H. Bosch’s
Garden of Earthly Delights – it’s healing by
restoration of the painting, and how art does heal
us; you have given a fine insight in to living as
well. Thank you.
The mystery of death and suffering
blows our lives wide open in ways which are
difficult to understand. Your he(art) captures the
“gold & colors” we too see when we send a
loved one to God . . .
The attention to detail is incredible and the
feelings evoked are so true. I lost my only child 13
years ago. I could feel those feelings. One month
ago I lost my best friend to breast cancer. Everyone
has or will experience the loss of a loved one. It’s
sad but a part of life I guess. I’m glad you did
this. I’m sure it helped you work through your
grief. Maybe someday I will paint something about my
child. Maybe it will start those creative energies
up in me again. Thanks.
A wonderful march of courage, feeling
Thank you for sharing the power of
grief, the depth and capacity of love, and the
strength required to heal and reclaim, the heart
imagery – and the weight and comfort of the quilt
imagery – is unblinking and right to the core.
My first impression of your work was
wonder and amazement. As a seamstress and artist I
was impressed by the complexity of it. Simply
beautiful! But as I traveled around the room I
became engaged in the experience I was moved to
tears, your expression was profound! Thank you for
sharing your journey as well as your beautiful
talent – I was blessed as well as moved. I wish
you well on your healing.
The tiny stitches in the stitchery and the minute
details in every brush and pen stroke really spoke
to me of how your grief (our grief, everyone’s
grief) touches every stroke, and thing in our lives.
It lives in every little moment. Thanks, Cathy for
sharing your journey and those years so openly; so
exquisitely. I have visited with you on the phone;
now I feel I know you.
Everything, all of those pictures are
true. They stand out and they are very beautiful.
And they help me understand more about grief!
One would assume that grief could
only be expressed in a morbid, sorrowful manner. You
have captured the silver lining of hope that
Most people aren’t able to grasp the gamete
of emotions that grief presents. Your presentation
of these pieces touched my heart . . . and spoke to
my soul. I thank you . .
Intricate and beautiful. Thank
I had to write and tell you I saw a
collection of your grief pictures.
I don't know if I've ever seen such moving
images of the process of cresting the mountain of
grieving and walking slowly down the other side.
They are truly beautiful.
Thank you for giving the gift of yourself and
of the human spirit.