the story

how "Beholding Touch" was born

Those unforgettable moments. The times that make the hair stand up at the back of your neck. The moments your mind refers back to time and time again.

That's what matters most.

During the trip to The Netherlands with my dear Dad in 2015, I captured a moment that became the inspiration for the Gratitude Collection, eight pieces of art honoring WWII Veterans and the Dutch citizens, who's love and respect for their beloved heroes is incredible.

The collection's signature piece, "Beholding Touch", became the first, born from a photograph that spurred my creativity and longing to create a lasting legacy for those we love.

I invite you to travel with me back to the moment...

Dad and I are in the city of Apeldoorn, along with over a hundred Veterans and their families to celebrate the 70th Anniversary of the Liberation.  Holland has held a tradition of hosting a major celebration every five years and there are throngs of people lining the streets for the parade in the heart of the city.  It's a cool spring day, camera crews and photographers are everywhere, period army vehicles from the 1940's and drivers dressed in gear replicating wartime, are transporting the Veterans. There are shouts of joy, flowers, flags, and children and parents and grandparents who vividly remembered their plight during the war and wear their emotion on their sleeves.  And many respectfully make their way close enough in genuine hope of touching one of the soldiers who helped free them.  

We're in an old army ambulance vehicle, I'm seated behind my Dad, but it's difficult for me to see the people. I jump out of the back to walk alongside and experience things more fully.  Soon after, a young girl gingerly reaches her little hand up to touch my Dad's and she stares him in the eyes for what seems like a full minute.  The image shows up in my camera, intact, clear, intently calling out to me. 

Another day, another location in the province of Friesland during that same trip, put me in front of a bronze sculpture by Tineke Willemse - Steen, of a beautiful young child with a cherub-like face. This photograph becomes part of Beholding Touch (in the top left of the image), and is symbolic of children who did not survive the war and who were witnessing - beholding - the generations who were free and that did survive. 

We were to board a plane this week, May 1st, 2020, with my Dad, bound for Amsterdam, to celebrate the 75th Liberation Day with the Dutch and five other Veterans and families. We were to be in Dokkum, and the Gratitude Collection was to be exhibited there, where my Dad and fellow Vets would see the artwork for the first time.

Instead, we're home and nesting due to the pandemic that has gripped the world.  And Dad has peacefully and quietly moved on to his final resting place in heaven above.  He's watching life unfold with cherubs and angels.

The legacy remains.

in the army
vehicle behind my Dad 
Apeldoorn, May 2015

me walking beside the army
vehicle and coming upon
the little girl (bottom left)
who appears in
"Beholding Touch"

original photograph
Apeldoorn parade
Dad with young child
May 2015

photograph of bronze
by Dutch sculptress Tineke Willemse - Steen
located in Hotel Landgoed Lauswolt, Beetsterzwaag
May 2015

Go here for information about the Gratitude Collection and the exhibition that is now rescheduled.

End of an Era

Late afternoon sun streams through the sawdust covered window, and I realize with quiet relief that I'm ready to say goodbye.

Whether we like it or not, whether we embrace the concept or wrestle it to the ground, death brings change, and change brings new growth and exciting things.

My Dad and brothers have had a partnership in a business for many years and with the passing of one of my brothers, it has become necessary to clear out and move on from what was part of our lives since before my siblings and I were born.

An onerous task, clearing out decades of things that were waiting to be: tools waiting to sharpen saws, wood to turn, planks to shape into a project, parts waiting to be installed into machines that are no longer being made, the old wired dial up phone, my Grandfather's planer and tools he used as a building inspector, and some machinery that was customized and configured with belts and pulleys devised by my father and forefathers to get the job done.

Surrounded by history and memories of my past and my family's past, I help sort through dust covered items that I can only hope will make someone else happy. I come across things that I remember and find things that bring forward a story I had never heard before and am so grateful to listen to. "The darker pair of skis were ones that I bought for Mom," Dad says.  "I ordered the bindings and attached them to hers, but the lighter pair I made from scratch", telling me how he steamed the wood to curve the ski tips and made the poles too.

One last time, I look out through that dusty window and see the ballpark I once played on, the swings now gone, and the desire to stop time washes over me like the ocean tide.  

There is solace in knowing I have captured what matters most and I'll find a way to celebrate and preserve it. I embrace what will be, and patiently wait for inspiration to flow into my brain. 
 

one great Momma!

---

Well, this is special.

It's not every day you and your family get to celebrate someone's 89th birthday.

If you are blessed with having a parent in your life for that long, you might know how I feel.

My mother embraced technology and owned a computer before most of her children did, and her grandchildren asked to come over to do their homework on it.  She is a talented editor, an organizing queen, and at one time she knit like a pro and was one of a few braillists in Canada to translate music for the blind. She spins circles around us all in Scrabble and this cruciverbalist speeds through crossword puzzles, Sudoku, and does a fine job with Jeopardy questions every weeknight at 7:30 (don't phone her then). 

I'm in awe of her remarkable and unwavering love for my father, her husband, the guy she's been married to for nearly 70 years after he asked her to wait for him when he went off to war. That whole "'til death do us part" thing was put to the test after my Dad had a serious fall last year that immobilized him, and she nailed it - with patience, care, and love.

I love my Mom for her smarts, her companionship, her strength, her wisdom, her practicality, and the unending love and support she continually shows me and my family. She is truly an inspiration I am lucky to have.

So today, I'd like to honour and celebrate her, because that's what matters most.

Happy Birthday, Mom!

2017... make it your best year yet!

---

How will you make your 2017?

The hustle of Christmas is gone, and what lies ahead is patiently waiting for us.  What will you do?  How will you spend your precious time?

My brother died suddenly last month. As I move beyond grief, I know that the relationship I had with him, and the memories I treasure, will inform my artwork in some way. I'm not going to stress about the details of how and when, but instead let it show up and become what it will.

I have great hope for what this year will bring - deeper friendships, new relationships, new work, new paths. I continue to add pieces to my collections, and will let you know when they are ready to go (you can check out my website by clicking the link below).  Coming up very soon, my family and I are traveling to the small island of Tobago next month for the trip of a lifetime. I know the lush rain forests and spectacular views there will be inspiring!

What has occurred in your life that will help you make and take the next steps?  I hope you know now or are open to finding out soon.

And I hope you live your life fully aware of, and surrounding yourself with what matters most. My brother certainly did.
 

Blair Otterman  1952-2016