tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21039570383310899072024-03-18T20:01:43.567-07:00Michele Waalkes ArtsThank you for visiting my blog! I hope you enjoy my work. Please also visit www.michelewaalkes.com or email me at michele@michelewaalkes.comMichele Waalkes ARTShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409368665373603116noreply@blogger.comBlogger146125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2103957038331089907.post-67028593168042240462015-08-05T12:39:00.004-07:002015-08-05T12:42:14.933-07:00Exploration of Waves<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VTBMKJkJ4AA/VcJk4Yfjm8I/AAAAAAAAA4g/_53TstzNcMA/s1600/Exploration%2Bof%2BWaves.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="253" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VTBMKJkJ4AA/VcJk4Yfjm8I/AAAAAAAAA4g/_53TstzNcMA/s320/Exploration%2Bof%2BWaves.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Exploration of Waves<br />
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<span class="s1">I love the water. I grew up in Michigan where I frequently went to Lake Michigan, smaller inland lakes, as well as rivers and creeks near my house. Regardless of the size or location I find being near water to be a soulful, calming experience.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">This piece was created by printing images of water onto Teslin (a thin, flexible paper-like substrate). The images were then cut and sculpted to create a different perspective of water.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Size: (h x w) 8" x 8"</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Media: Hanging t</span>hree dimensional photography- Teslin, wire, beads</div>
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AVAILABLE</div>
Michele Waalkes ARTShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409368665373603116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2103957038331089907.post-80259964016546479632015-04-27T11:30:00.000-07:002015-04-27T11:39:05.162-07:00Telephone<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NdO7ySMebV4/VT53tFXFu0I/AAAAAAAAA3A/WPReXAL1JAY/s1600/telephone%2Bdraft%2B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NdO7ySMebV4/VT53tFXFu0I/AAAAAAAAA3A/WPReXAL1JAY/s1600/telephone%2Bdraft%2B2.jpg" height="255" width="320" /></a></div>
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Do you remember playing "telephone" when you were little? Sitting in a line or circle, someone whispers a word or message in your ear and then you whisper what you thought you heard into the next person's ear. This goes on until you get to the end and the last person says out loud what she thinks she just heard, which is usually quite different from the original message. It is a fun game and entertaining to see how the original message evolves.<br />
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I recently played this game again as an adult, only this time I played it with other artists from around the world in an international game of <a href="http://telephone.satellitecollective.org/" target="_blank">"Telephone" organized by Nathan Langston from Satellite Collective. </a><br />
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The message started out with the Breton Fisherman's Prayer: <span style="font-family: proxima_nova_ltlight, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif;">“Oh God, Thy Sea is So Great and My Boat is So Small.” This was sent out to three different artists, then on to other artists until it reached 315 of us from around the world. Each artist only saw the piece before hers and then she rendered what she thought the message was in her own medium: film, sculpture, photography, prose, etc. It is so interesting to follow the different paths from one work to another!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: proxima_nova_ltlight, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif;">The "telephone line" that I was a part of followed the prayer and then focused primarily on humanity in the form of a woman's body and skulls and in the end offered a sense of hope- or at least that is what I got from the painting before mine!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: proxima_nova_ltlight, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif;">Have fun following the telephone lines to see what other artists created! Follow this link to <a href="http://telephone.satellitecollective.org/" target="_blank">Telephone: An International Arts Experiment</a>!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: proxima_nova_ltlight, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif;"><i>Fulfillment</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: proxima_nova_ltlight, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif;">Size: 12" x 16"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: proxima_nova_ltlight, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif;">Media: Original digital composition</span><br />
<span style="font-family: proxima_nova_ltlight, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif;">AVAILABLE</span>Michele Waalkes ARTShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409368665373603116noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2103957038331089907.post-58525937017613311392014-11-07T11:06:00.000-08:002014-11-07T11:07:34.994-08:00Homage <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TagxaEheKRM/VF0WTwcfP7I/AAAAAAAAA2c/NQSsfamVqj8/s1600/IMG_4888.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TagxaEheKRM/VF0WTwcfP7I/AAAAAAAAA2c/NQSsfamVqj8/s1600/IMG_4888.JPG" height="320" width="239" /></a></div>
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<i>Homage</i><br />
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<span class="s1">When I visited St. Margaret’s 12th century chapel in the Edinburgh Castle, it was a sacred place for me. So much so that I came back and visited it a second time. The sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows sending splashes of color on the rough hewn walls. It drew me in and I sat quietly. That was my first introduction to St. Margaret. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">I was so moved by my experience that I opted to visit another place where she had been: the Dunfermline Abbey, which was founded by St. Margaret. It is also where she was buried. I was not surprised that Dunfermline Abbey also felt sacred. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">This piece is created from two different perspectives of the interior of the Dunfermline Abbey Church, with its time-weathered columns and arches seeping with traces from the past.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Size: (h x w) 32" x 24"</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Media: Phototransfer and pastels on maple</span></div>
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<span class="s1">AVAILABLE</span></div>
Michele Waalkes ARTShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409368665373603116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2103957038331089907.post-12760113057666879562014-10-29T14:27:00.000-07:002014-10-29T14:27:57.357-07:00Grandeur of Thistles<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R9OXeA9NlUY/VFFa0C3J4lI/AAAAAAAAA2M/wXh7sHxtGiU/s1600/IMG_4885.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R9OXeA9NlUY/VFFa0C3J4lI/AAAAAAAAA2M/wXh7sHxtGiU/s1600/IMG_4885.JPG" height="320" width="155" /></a></div>
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<i>Grandeur of Thistles</i><br />
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<span class="s1">I saw images of thistles frequently while in Scotland, and for good reason-- the thistle is actually the national emblem of Scotland.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I like how this humble, resilient weed is celebrated. In fact, there are many myths and symbols devoted to it. (Google it, it is quite interesting!)</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Many stylized depictions of thistles, such as this finial from a railing, serve as a good reminder that the common can be exquisite and the everyday full of grandeur. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Size: (h x w) 16" x 8"</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Media: Phototransfer on maple</span></div>
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<span class="s1">AVAILABLE</span></div>
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Michele Waalkes ARTShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409368665373603116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2103957038331089907.post-50689464486304563822014-10-13T08:30:00.000-07:002014-10-13T08:30:17.518-07:00Illumination<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-susJHj79qOk/VDvuvyLDkJI/AAAAAAAAA18/GeZbMZRvTmQ/s1600/Illumination.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-susJHj79qOk/VDvuvyLDkJI/AAAAAAAAA18/GeZbMZRvTmQ/s1600/Illumination.jpg" height="211" width="320" /></a></div>
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Illumination<br />
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<span class="s1">The sunlight is glaring through a window in the Great Hall of the Edinburgh Castle in Scotland. I overlaid this with a celtic cross from Iona, allowing the light from the window to illuminate it.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Size: (h x w) 16" x 20"</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Media" Digital photography</span></div>
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<span class="s1">AVAILABLE</span></div>
Michele Waalkes ARTShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409368665373603116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2103957038331089907.post-57291874109915168262014-10-06T09:43:00.000-07:002014-10-06T09:43:53.686-07:00Remnant of Devotion<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fFNrSAVksgU/VDLFuuzKIfI/AAAAAAAAA1s/EsbM3d1ltkc/s1600/remnant%2Bof%2Bdevotion%2Bresized%2Bcopy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fFNrSAVksgU/VDLFuuzKIfI/AAAAAAAAA1s/EsbM3d1ltkc/s1600/remnant%2Bof%2Bdevotion%2Bresized%2Bcopy.jpg" height="159" width="320" /></a></div>
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Remnant of Devotion</div>
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<span class="s1">On the Isle of Iona I searched for the Hill of Angels, a place where St. Columba would go to pray that is now considered sacred. It is easy to miss, you can barely find it on the map. It is just a little hill located inside a fenced-in pasture on someone’s farm. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">I climbed over the fence and headed up the small hill. I sat in quiet near some stones that had been placed as humble offerings by others who had ventured to this site before me. It felt sacred. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">While sitting on the peaceful little knoll, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. Some small sheep were making their way in my direction! They lingered and begged for attention. Oddly enough, this felt like a most appropriate greeting on the Hill of Angels.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Size: (h x w) 10" x 20"</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Media: Digital photography</span></div>
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<span class="s1">SOLD</span></div>
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Michele Waalkes ARTShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409368665373603116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2103957038331089907.post-80273070107563361212014-09-19T12:42:00.000-07:002014-09-19T12:42:17.377-07:00Shrouded<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EBxsaqha9uY/VByFx0GU76I/AAAAAAAAA1c/XgHRgZtB8X4/s1600/IMG_1087.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EBxsaqha9uY/VByFx0GU76I/AAAAAAAAA1c/XgHRgZtB8X4/s1600/IMG_1087.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
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Shrouded<br />
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<span class="s1">When I arrived on the Isle of Iona it was blanketed in a hazy fog. The first place I visited was the Nunnery ruins, which poked mysteriously through the haze making it feel very sacred and still. The haze really heightened my experience of the ruins. I visited again later after the fog had lifted, but it was never quite the same without this shroud of mystery.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Size: (h x w) 20" x 16" framed</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Media: Digital photography</span></div>
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<span class="s1">AVAILABLE</span></div>
Michele Waalkes ARTShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409368665373603116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2103957038331089907.post-79458710187710368562014-09-16T07:24:00.000-07:002014-09-16T07:24:05.525-07:00Enchanted<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-toakhdKDcfE/VBhFsI7iB4I/AAAAAAAAA1M/C4OFqdxosTM/s1600/Enchanted%2Bhi%2Bres.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-toakhdKDcfE/VBhFsI7iB4I/AAAAAAAAA1M/C4OFqdxosTM/s1600/Enchanted%2Bhi%2Bres.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span class="s1">Enchanted</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I am not sure I have ever been so surprised by beauty as when I saw this meadow</span> carpeted with millions of purple flowers. It was on the Isle of Mull, in Scotland, and I had just pulled over to wander around an old churchyard in Gruline and was just getting back on the road to keep on schedule when the mass of purple drew me in. I couldn't resist! </div>
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<span class="s1">It is the kind of experience where you want to breathe it in deeply and savor it for the future. (Like what we do in Ohio on an unseasonably warm day, when there is still threat of cold and snow). If only we could fully conjure up these moments again so vividly! </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Size: (h x w) 16" x 24"</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Media: Digital photography on canvas</span></div>
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<span class="s1">AVAILABLE</span></div>
Michele Waalkes ARTShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409368665373603116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2103957038331089907.post-12523745599179188672014-09-11T11:30:00.001-07:002014-09-16T07:24:45.924-07:00Stirring<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YRhRWIdFSdk/VBHnsRoL1zI/AAAAAAAAA08/07Q84uvLebQ/s1600/water%2Boffering.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YRhRWIdFSdk/VBHnsRoL1zI/AAAAAAAAA08/07Q84uvLebQ/s1600/water%2Boffering.jpg" height="320" width="219" /></a></div>
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<span class="s1">Stirring</span><br />
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<span class="s1">At the National Museum of Scotland, I was intrigued by a sign about ancient ritual offerings in water that noted: “Watery places were favoured for making offerings. They were seen as boundaries between the human world and the world of the gods, where contact could be made.” There is something about water and its glittery, fluid movement that touches my soul deeply. (This may have something to do with the fact that I grew up in the Great Lakes state!)</span></div>
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<span class="s1">On the way to catch a car ferry, I took some photos of Lake Lubmaig. The water was so peaceful and quiet. I combined this with a shot of the Iona green marble altar in the Iona Abbey. In this piece, the altar and water fuse into a permeable “watery place”.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Size: (h x w) 20" x 16" framed</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Media: Digital photography</span></div>
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<span class="s1">AVAILABLE</span></div>
Michele Waalkes ARTShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409368665373603116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2103957038331089907.post-20045540513145379262014-07-12T13:40:00.000-07:002014-07-12T14:10:18.557-07:00The Wait<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PEn3jzIrhUE/U8GOhnDtkTI/AAAAAAAAAxg/xNtUDXPDPwg/s1600/The+Wait.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PEn3jzIrhUE/U8GOhnDtkTI/AAAAAAAAAxg/xNtUDXPDPwg/s1600/The+Wait.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
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<i>This piece is from my two-person Tangled Memories exhibit. The exhibit explored my experiences with my Dad's Early-Onset Alzheimer's. (He was diagnosed in his early 50's, when I was still a teenager, and died in 2000 at the age of 65).</i><br />
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<i>The Wait</i><br />
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Waiting. Sitting alone at McDonald’s waiting for my Dad.<br />
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<span class="s1">I used to meet my Dad at McDonald's for breakfast. I had moved out of the </span>house and I looked forward to these times to connect and catch up. As time went by, he increasingly forgot to meet me. His forgetting at that time did not yet have a label, an explanation. All I knew, as I sat there waiting, was that he had forgotten me, again. I was alone.</div>
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<span class="s1">Recently I sat alone again with my breakfast in a local McDonald's to take photos for this piece. The empty seat still served as an icon of Alzheimer's.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Size: (h x w) 48" x 36"</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Media: Mixed media on maple</span></div>
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<span class="s1">AVAILABLE</span></div>
Michele Waalkes ARTShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409368665373603116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2103957038331089907.post-69308860027758329672014-07-12T13:36:00.001-07:002014-07-12T14:10:46.031-07:00Tangled Memories<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4jmww8VW4EE/U8GbHYgX3-I/AAAAAAAAAyU/wR7XidsBYbY/s1600/IMG_3652.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4jmww8VW4EE/U8GbHYgX3-I/AAAAAAAAAyU/wR7XidsBYbY/s1600/IMG_3652.JPG" height="320" width="235" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hxs2SCee5pw/U8GbIKmdcmI/AAAAAAAAAyY/jNxgL8lGZ1g/s1600/IMG_3788.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hxs2SCee5pw/U8GbIKmdcmI/AAAAAAAAAyY/jNxgL8lGZ1g/s1600/IMG_3788.JPG" height="320" width="290" /></a></div>
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<i>This piece is from my two-person Tangled Memories exhibit. The exhibit explored my experiences with my Dad's Early-Onset Alzheimer's. (He was diagnosed in his early 50's, when I was still a teenager, and died in 2000 at the age of 65).</i><br />
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<i>Tangled Memories Sculpture & Detail Photograph</i><br />
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<span class="s1">This piece contains images of family photos that have been printed on sheer fabric. I cut </span>them in strips, leaving none of the images intact. These tangles of memories have been placed into a vessel, atrophied and opaque. It is symbolic of Alzheimer's-- a snarl of dead ends and detours within a shrinking vessel of obscurity.<br />
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<span class="s1">Sculpture</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Size: (h x w x d) 6" x 10" x 10"</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Media: Fibers</span></div>
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<span class="s1">AVAILABLE</span></div>
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Framed detail photo</div>
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Size: (h x w) 14" x 14"</div>
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Media: Digital photograph</div>
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AVAILABLE</div>
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Michele Waalkes ARTShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409368665373603116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2103957038331089907.post-3098725160626233792014-07-12T13:29:00.001-07:002014-07-12T14:11:05.449-07:00Lost<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dAqOFMMBvPw/U8GN6jxwjxI/AAAAAAAAAww/hyB0CwmMK5s/s1600/das+and+i+frame.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dAqOFMMBvPw/U8GN6jxwjxI/AAAAAAAAAww/hyB0CwmMK5s/s1600/das+and+i+frame.jpg" height="309" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>This piece is from my two-person Tangled Memories exhibit. The exhibit explored my experiences with my Dad's Early-Onset Alzheimer's. (He was diagnosed in his early 50's, when I was still a teenager, and died in 2000 at the age of 65).</i><br />
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<i>Lost</i><br />
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<span class="s1">As my Dad lost his memories, he lost some of mine too. After my Mom died it was up </span>to my Dad to help keep our collective family memories alive. But eventually my Dad could no longer access those stories that gave us context and a sense of belonging.<br />
<div>
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<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Size: (h x w) 18" x 18"</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Media: Digital photograph</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">AVAILABLE</span></div>
</div>
Michele Waalkes ARTShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409368665373603116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2103957038331089907.post-1341643734645285492014-07-12T13:27:00.001-07:002014-07-12T14:11:24.304-07:00Almost<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4xknfV5DHig/U8GOlTi69-I/AAAAAAAAAxw/TAKYva8Lw-w/s1600/IMG_3884.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4xknfV5DHig/U8GOlTi69-I/AAAAAAAAAxw/TAKYva8Lw-w/s1600/IMG_3884.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="p1">
<i>This piece is from my two-person Tangled Memories exhibit. The exhibit explored my experiences with my Dad's Early-Onset Alzheimer's. (He was diagnosed in his early 50's, when I was still a teenager, and died in 2000 at the age of 65).</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>Almost</i><br />
<br />
As my Dad was building a birdhouse and he asked me to hand him "that thing you use to pound nails in." My Dad, who had taught me how to use a hammer, could simply not find its name. Yet he had learned how to take the long way of getting there, taking alternate routes through his brain.</div>
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<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">This piece is how I envision that experience, those times of knowing what something is </span>but not quite being able to access it. It is like squinting through a haze or taking a long drive through the country. The scenic route.</div>
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<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="s1">Size: (h x w) 17" x 21"</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Media: Digital photograph</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">AVAILABLE</span></div>
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</div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
Michele Waalkes ARTShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409368665373603116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2103957038331089907.post-67841701073285242422014-07-12T13:25:00.000-07:002014-07-12T14:11:44.255-07:00Archives<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vDMqnv0dE3c/U8GOSygh-lI/AAAAAAAAAxQ/G4u9PdZXV7A/s1600/Archives.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vDMqnv0dE3c/U8GOSygh-lI/AAAAAAAAAxQ/G4u9PdZXV7A/s1600/Archives.jpg" height="320" width="228" /></a></div>
<br />
<i>This piece is from my two-person Tangled Memories exhibit. The exhibit explored my experiences with my Dad's Early-Onset Alzheimer's. (He was diagnosed in his early 50's, when I was still a teenager, and died in 2000 at the age of 65).</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>Archives</i><br />
<br />
In Alzheimer's slowly memories can no longer be accessed. It is like there is a padlock on the brain as the memories within begin to deteriorate and the synapses break down like bombed out bridges.<br />
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<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="s1">Size: (h x w) 21" x 17"</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Media: Digital photography</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">AVAILABLE</span></div>
Michele Waalkes ARTShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409368665373603116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2103957038331089907.post-4027212090183401302014-07-12T13:23:00.000-07:002014-07-12T14:12:03.542-07:00Infinite Loop<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-So69_J9Zudk/U8GOCB0Ud9I/AAAAAAAAAw4/ar2H__YMdZE/s1600/infinite+loop+spiral_2_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-So69_J9Zudk/U8GOCB0Ud9I/AAAAAAAAAw4/ar2H__YMdZE/s1600/infinite+loop+spiral_2_2.jpg" height="320" width="315" /></a></div>
<br />
<i>This piece is from my two-person Tangled Memories exhibit. The exhibit explored my experiences with my Dad's Early-Onset Alzheimer's. (He was diagnosed in his early 50's, when I was still a teenager, and died in 2000 at the age of 65).</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>Infinite Loop</i><br />
<span class="s1"><br /></span>
<span class="s1">My Dad used Post-It notes as a coping mechanism when he was still trying to </span>function at work. He would use them to try to remember just about anything, including to check another Post-it note. Conscious of his need for reminders, he wallpapered his office wall and covered his desk and floor with Post-its. He was desperately trying to keep things together, to compensate, to order the confusion. Toward the end of his attempt to maintain his job his writing on the notes did not form coherent words anymore as they morphed into scribbles.<br />
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<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="s1">Size: (h x w) 20" x 20"</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Media: Digital composition on canvas</span></div>
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<span class="s1">SOLD</span></div>
Michele Waalkes ARTShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409368665373603116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2103957038331089907.post-69410315085744010452014-07-12T13:20:00.000-07:002014-07-12T14:12:34.149-07:00Purpose<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ptcC_cJjr_E/U8GOnHqoiiI/AAAAAAAAAx4/L7d51pHNkjI/s1600/purpose.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ptcC_cJjr_E/U8GOnHqoiiI/AAAAAAAAAx4/L7d51pHNkjI/s1600/purpose.jpg" height="125" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<i>This piece is from my two-person Tangled Memories exhibit. The exhibit explored my experiences with my Dad's Early-Onset Alzheimer's. (He was diagnosed in his early 50's, when I was still a teenager, and died in 2000 at the age of 65).</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>Purpose</i><br />
<span class="s1"><br /></span>
<span class="s1">After my Dad could no longer work, he still had a desire to be productive, to have a </span>purpose. My sister was creative in coming up with things for him to do. Each day he came over to her house she would fling mulch onto the driveway. He would arrive, show disgust at how such a thing could have happened, and get right to cleaning it up.<br />
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<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
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<span class="s1">She would mix nails and screws together and have him sort them out. He folded clothes again and again and cut pictures from magazines. It did not matter that he repeated these tasks over and over. He did not remember. What mattered was that he took pride in each accomplishment and had a sense of purpose, even if only for a moment. </span></div>
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<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
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<span class="s1">When asking my Dad what he had been doing, his standard response was "Oh, thises and thats."</span></div>
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<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
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Size: (h x w) 14" x 24"</div>
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Media: Digital photograph triptych</div>
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SOLD</div>
</div>
Michele Waalkes ARTShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409368665373603116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2103957038331089907.post-83806995324821924162014-07-12T13:10:00.000-07:002014-07-12T14:12:52.374-07:00The Fading<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-07kYAuQ4TvM/U8GOPIA4hlI/AAAAAAAAAxI/dTh1UTBrBmM/s1600/The+Fading.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-07kYAuQ4TvM/U8GOPIA4hlI/AAAAAAAAAxI/dTh1UTBrBmM/s1600/The+Fading.jpg" height="320" width="247" /></a></div>
<br />
<br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />
<span style="font-style: italic;">This piece is from my two-person Tangled Memories exhibit. The exhibit explored my experiences with my Dad's Early-Onset Alzheimer's. (He was diagnosed in his early 50's, when I was still a teenager, and died in 2000 at the age of 65).</span><br />
<span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-style: italic;">The Fading</span><br />
<span class="s1"><br /></span>
<span class="s1">When exactly did the twinkle in his eyes disappear? When did eye contact become </span>non existent? When did he vacate leaving only an empty stare? It is impossible to explain what it feels like to have a loved one not recognize you, to no longer know you. You look closely and wonder if something is still there, was that a flash of recognition? Did he understand? You visit and you carry on one-sided conversations just in case. It is a gesture of love, like visiting a grave.<br />
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<br /></div>
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Size: (h x w) 20" x 16"</div>
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Media: Digital photograph</div>
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AVAILABLE</div>
Michele Waalkes ARTShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409368665373603116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2103957038331089907.post-33991078347882890682014-07-12T13:08:00.000-07:002014-07-12T14:13:08.785-07:00Earnest<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dqvNlLwDqpk/U8GOH1aLFcI/AAAAAAAAAxA/T7v91HoS0n4/s1600/IMG_4214_5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dqvNlLwDqpk/U8GOH1aLFcI/AAAAAAAAAxA/T7v91HoS0n4/s1600/IMG_4214_5.JPG" height="219" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<i>This piece is from my two-person Tangled Memories exhibit. The exhibit explored my experiences with my Dad's Early-Onset Alzheimer's. (He was diagnosed in his early 50's, when I was still a teenager, and died in 2000 at the age of 65).</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>Earnest</i><br />
<span class="s1"><br /></span>
<span class="s1">When I was nine I rode my bike down to the cemetery and I picked flowers from other </span>graves to put on my Mom's headstone. It was an act of love.<br />
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<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">But somewhere along the way we learn not to pick the pretty flowers.</span></div>
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<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">When my Dad was in his mid-fifties he hitch-hiked and walked to my sister's house. No one knew where he was. Eventually he walked up my sister's driveway with a proud smile on his face and a bouquet of flowers that he had picked from people's yards along the way.</span></div>
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<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">In his mid-fifties he had forgotten not to pick the pretty flowers.</span></div>
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<br />
<span class="s1"></span></div>
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<span class="s1">Each experience was fresh and new for my Dad, as if it was the first time he had seen such a sunny day or beautiful flower.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Size: (h x w) 16" x 20"</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Media: Digital photograph</span></div>
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<span class="s1">SOLD</span></div>
Michele Waalkes ARTShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409368665373603116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2103957038331089907.post-86582116141423024852014-07-12T13:05:00.000-07:002014-07-12T14:13:28.903-07:00Refuge<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7M8rSWtvOjA/U8GOqTvtWHI/AAAAAAAAAyA/ky1SUaD3W2Y/s1600/064.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7M8rSWtvOjA/U8GOqTvtWHI/AAAAAAAAAyA/ky1SUaD3W2Y/s1600/064.jpg" height="320" width="232" /></a></div>
<i><br /></i>
<i>This piece is from my two-person Tangled Memories exhibit. The exhibit explored my experiences with my Dad's Early-Onset Alzheimer's. (He was diagnosed in his early 50's, when I was still a teenager, and died in 2000 at the age of 65).</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>Refuge</i><br />
<br />
When my Dad was dying, I sat by his side and read Psalms aloud to him. Over and over again I read about the reassurance that God is a refuge.<br />
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<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
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<span class="s1">I read aloud but could he understand? Was he still there? Who comforted whom? Did it matter?</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Those words were a refuge in those last hours.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Size: (h x w) 14" x 11"</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Media: Digital composition on Arches paper</span></div>
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<span class="s1">SOLD</span></div>
Michele Waalkes ARTShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409368665373603116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2103957038331089907.post-61344471241293315942014-07-12T12:49:00.001-07:002014-07-12T14:13:44.241-07:00Cross-section of Irony<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dOo7-YGC7C8/U8GOkQBfAEI/AAAAAAAAAxo/g_n2mrHD8iU/s1600/076.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dOo7-YGC7C8/U8GOkQBfAEI/AAAAAAAAAxo/g_n2mrHD8iU/s1600/076.jpg" height="320" width="250" /></a></div>
<br />
<i>This piece is from my two-person Tangled Memories exhibit. The exhibit explored my experiences with my Dad's Early-Onset Alzheimer's. (He was diagnosed in his early 50's, when I was still a teenager, and died in 2000 at the age of 65).</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>Cross-section of Irony</i><br />
<br />
After my Dad was diagnosed with Early Onset Alzheimer’s, he used to repeatedly pull each of us aside to tell us that he had a memory problem. It was clearly important to him that we knew. This intimate moment was repeated again and again and again.<br />
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<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="s1">Size: (h x w) 10" x 8"</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Media: Fibers</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">AVAILABLE</span></div>
Michele Waalkes ARTShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409368665373603116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2103957038331089907.post-54198426493654415332014-07-12T12:47:00.000-07:002014-07-12T14:14:03.570-07:00Tribute<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-N1Aqc2IUdZo/U8GOdclms5I/AAAAAAAAAxU/3PDSEE_kR1A/s1600/tribute3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-N1Aqc2IUdZo/U8GOdclms5I/AAAAAAAAAxU/3PDSEE_kR1A/s1600/tribute3.jpg" height="310" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<i>This piece is from my two-person Tangled Memories exhibit. The exhibit explored my experiences with my Dad's Early-Onset Alzheimer's. (He was diagnosed in his early 50's, when I was still a teenager, and died in 2000 at the age of 65).</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>Tribute</i><br />
<br />
My Dad was generous, kind, goofy, sensitive, and strong. He was a devoted Christian and a loving father. He was not perfect, but he was genuine.<br />
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<br />
<span class="s1"></span></div>
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<span class="s1">In his life, in his descent into Alzheimer’s, and in his death he taught me more than I can ever begin to express. I am still learning from him. </span></div>
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<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">This piece contains several vantage points of where I grew up, where the best memories of my Dad were formed.</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="s1">Size: (h x w) 14" x 14"</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Media: Digital composition</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">AVAILABLE</span></div>
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<span class="s1">
</span></div>
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<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
Michele Waalkes ARTShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409368665373603116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2103957038331089907.post-8373243096390663242014-07-12T12:42:00.001-07:002014-07-12T14:14:21.923-07:00Departure<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f8q7zX1jWtA/U8GNmpnqwyI/AAAAAAAAAwk/osR3GnKIn3Q/s1600/IMG_3729.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f8q7zX1jWtA/U8GNmpnqwyI/AAAAAAAAAwk/osR3GnKIn3Q/s1600/IMG_3729.JPG" height="246" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<i>This piece is from my two-person Tangled Memories exhibit. The exhibit explored my experiences with my Dad's Early-Onset Alzheimer's. (He was diagnosed in his early 50's, when I was still a teenager, and died in 2000 at the age of 65).</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>Departure</i><br />
<span class="s1"><br /></span>
<span class="s1">They call Alzheimer's the funeral that never ends. It is true. As the disease progresses </span>more of the person you love disappears. You continue to grieve as the person you know and love vacates. The familiarity and presence of his physical body betrays you, he is no longer there. He is an empty shell. And then death arrives, and he is free.<br />
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<span class="s1">Size: (h x w)</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Media: Digital composition on maple</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">AVAILABLE</span></div>
Michele Waalkes ARTShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409368665373603116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2103957038331089907.post-15284702015462053022014-07-12T12:28:00.002-07:002014-07-12T14:14:41.308-07:00Heredity<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jSMRDbonUkM/U8GL0rG0CBI/AAAAAAAAAwY/7sz6HLLuE4I/s1600/stairs2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jSMRDbonUkM/U8GL0rG0CBI/AAAAAAAAAwY/7sz6HLLuE4I/s1600/stairs2.jpg" height="320" width="214" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><i>This piece is from my two-person Tangled Memories exhibit. The exhibit explored my experiences with my Dad's Early-Onset Alzheimer's. (He was diagnosed in his early 50's, when I was still a teenager, and died in 2000 at the age of 65).</i></span><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>Heredity</i><br />
<br />
I inherited a higher probability of getting Alzheimer's from my Dad. His mother had it and out of the four kids in his family, two got Alzheimer's. There are four kids in my family too-- it is impossible not to wonder which of us will get it. I think it will be me.</div>
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<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">It is hard not to feel a bit like a time-bomb, with the dread of getting Alzheimer's (or the </span>cancer that took my mother's life at 38). Yet you can't live in fear or you fear to really live.</div>
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<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">In this piece there are two staircases to climb. I don't know which one I'm on. One </span>plateaus and one continues on. Regardless of which staircase you or I are on, shouldn't we all be inspired to try to live each day in a meaningful way? Life is a gift.</div>
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<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="s1">Size: (h x w) 30" x 20"</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Media: Digital composition on canvas</span></div>
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<span class="s1">SOLD</span></div>
<br />
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<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
Michele Waalkes ARTShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409368665373603116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2103957038331089907.post-24856823876028382302014-07-12T12:25:00.000-07:002014-07-12T14:14:58.876-07:00Ingenuity<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iGd5icTl-n8/U8GJ9mfS_9I/AAAAAAAAAwM/uPHDtm6eTEU/s1600/IMG_3727.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iGd5icTl-n8/U8GJ9mfS_9I/AAAAAAAAAwM/uPHDtm6eTEU/s1600/IMG_3727.JPG" height="320" width="220" /></a></div>
<br />
<i>This piece is from my two-person Tangled Memories exhibit. The exhibit explored my experiences with my Dad's Early-Onset Alzheimer's. (He was diagnosed in his early 50's, when I was still a teenager, and died in 2000 at the age of 65).</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>Ingenuity</i><br />
<br />
Sometimes with Alzheimer's you just have to laugh.<br />
<div class="p2">
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<span class="s1">One day my Dad decided he needed to reinforce his lunch bag, an empty sugar bag, so that it would last longer. He took that bag and covered the entire thing with duct tape. It was effective and he was very proud. He then took this a step further. He decided to cover the cracking exterior vinyl on the roof of his car, a late-70s Mercury Cougar (with the vinyl roof and a hood that went on forever). He covered all of the vinyl with duct tape. It actually looked pretty good, since his car was silver!</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I decided to duct tape a sugar bag in preparation for making this piece. It is harder than it looks! I was surprised that this ended up being a profound moment of connection with my Dad as I went through the same process that he did. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">This piece celebrates resourcefulness in the midst of navigating the shrinking pathways within the Alzheimer's brain.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Size: (h x w) 14" x 11"</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Media: Digital print on Arches paper, thread</span></div>
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<span class="s1">SOLD</span></div>
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Michele Waalkes ARTShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409368665373603116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2103957038331089907.post-11183279802374572472014-03-24T09:43:00.000-07:002014-03-24T09:44:36.877-07:00Tangled Memories<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b6uvz5gAC8k/UzBerNHnISI/AAAAAAAAAvo/EtNiRBYbWd0/s1600/IMG_3788.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b6uvz5gAC8k/UzBerNHnISI/AAAAAAAAAvo/EtNiRBYbWd0/s1600/IMG_3788.JPG" height="320" width="290" /></a></div>
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<span class="s1">This two person exhibit has been the hardest, most personal work I have created so far. It is a two person show in which fellow artist, Marcy Axelband, and I each created work about our experiences of Alzheimer's. Marcy's Dad is currently in the midst of it, my Dad had it and died almost 14 years ago.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">My Dad's memory began to fade in his early fifties, when I was still a teenager. It was a time punctuated by hurt and confusion as he would increasingly forget what I had told him. However this soon transitioned into fear and dread as we began to suspect he had Alzheimer's. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Early-onset Alzheimer’s. The diagnosis explained the present but haunted the future.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">My Dad knew he was forgetting and he was depressed. Until he slowly forgot. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">By 58 he was living in a nursing home. It was an odd sight, a relatively young man among the frail elderly folks you’d expect to see. I would visit him when I was in town, making one-way conversations, not knowing who the visits were for. He no longer knew me. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">I was with him when he died in 2000 at the age of 65. The finality stung, even though he had already been gone for so long. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">I am thankful I did not go through this alone. Special thanks to my sister, Ellen Roodvoets, and my brothers, Glenn and Brett Woudenberg, for sharing their memories and insights which have inspired many of these pieces. Thanks, too, to my husband, Scott, who has supported me all these years, from my Dad’s diagnosis to the making of this artwork.</span></div>
Michele Waalkes ARTShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409368665373603116noreply@blogger.com0