In the midst of completing her thesis and at my offering..my daughter invited me to spend a few days with her ‘working’. In her studio..as her assistant. ‘Living’ – in her house that she shares with five others…as a temporary and welcome housemate.
A gift – really. Spending days and nights immersed in nothing other than ‘creating’. In working on a project – hers. Slowly..thoughtfully..meticulously. Being a part of the process. Looking and seeing how the initial concept and idea had changed and morphed and grown. Enjoying the creative energy and spirit and youth of the students that surrounded me.
The familiar precision of cutting of chipboard into their perscribed shapes and sizes. The feel of glue stuck to my hands. The smell of freshly cut plywood. The sounds of music playing..inspiring. The sawdust. The mess. The chaos and thrill that comes with watching what was once only a an imaginary vision become real.
Of course – it took me right back to those long days and nights I once spent in an architecture studio..designing projects of my own. The excitement. The energy. The delirious exhaustion. It was a ‘returning’..without having to actually go back. To those places that are buried somewhere inside us. All but forgotten. For better…or for worse. Not often does an opportunity such as this present.
We worked together..she and me. Side by side. Transcending the mother/daughter..we were– in that moment – a highly synchronized team. A carefully attuned duet. Sharing and speaking the same language – light and shadow and space and form. As if we were the ones who invented it. As if no one – other than we two – could possibly understand.
Immersed in the process – without distraction or interruption – I found again a part of me that had somehow…somewhere fallen away. Lost – I had come to believe. Never to found again. But – there it was…there I was. This thing that I’ve always had inside me. To simply ‘create’…to be a part of a project from conception to completion…to let myself disappear into the energy that comes with doing nothing other..to simply be in that moment and nowhere else.
Stepping out of the studio after a long day of good productive work… night had fallen. The air was cold and winter crisp. The moon filled the sky. The stars danced. There – in the college quad in which we stood – there arose the sound of a single trumpet. Its song reverberating and echoing throughout. Melancholy and melodic. Soulful. Simple and elegant. Beautiful. I hardly dared to breathe.
My daughter’s college experience so different than mine. We were – us ‘architects’ – swimming against the current of scientists and engineers. Me – a girl – an odd and unusual sight not to seen. Whereas she – she is immersed in an ocean of creativity. Of music and art and poetry. Filled with individual self-expression. Girls and boys together. It’s so inspiring to see.
In the dark of the night..I understood in that moment – how it is possible to be completely lost..and found. And how truly lucky I was to have this gift. To return..re-visit..and experience it in a whole other light. This time – under the light of the moon.
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Cross-posted today over at Vision and Verb - where a collaborative group of like-minded women from all over the world share their passion for photography and the written word.