hear my voice

Despite the stereotypes about dealing with difficult relatives over the holidays, I find the time with my sons enlightening and inspiring. They are the very best of me and yet something altogether unique and individual. When I let them express their views and be their true selves, when I release them from parental expectations, when I give my love freely with no conditions, guilt or shame . . . then can I revel in their joy and celebrate life.

My youngest son, 20 years-old and a senior in college is working on a project for his class, Indigenous Literature. Partly as research and partly because he loves art and museums and literature, he visited the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts exhibit, Hear My Voice, Native American Art of the Past and Present. Because we share common tendencies, I visited the same exhibit on a different day, an excursion with my husband.

The artworks were organized into three dialogues.

The Artist and nature  – The Artist and the community – The Artist and the outsider

A total of 56 works illustrate the ways in which Native American art speaks of a shared knowledge and shared history while also being incredibly diverse in subject matter and medium.

When we are open to hear the voices of those different from ourselves, we experience the fullness of life.

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