At 1:30, I find the ceramic studio and Sister Margaret, one of those nuns who doesn't seem to suffer fools. I tell her I'm to volunteer with her and the other nuns. I'm there to do whatever they need me to do.
"Have you ever painted?" she asks briskly. I told her I have. I don't tell her in what capacity. I also don't tell her that I'm not overly religious either. None of that will matter, because she sets a ceramic tile of a frog in front of me.
"This is Frankie." I stare down at the frog. Okay.
"That's short for St. Francis. It's a new project of mine and I want you to paint one of these Frankies. She gives me an example of a finished "Frankie" and shows me hows she wants them done. Easy as pie, I think.
"What do you know about frogs?" Sister Margaret asks. I know that they're amphibians. "I'm going to say two words and I want you to finish out the sentence, all right?"
I nod.
"Forever rely. . . "
I'm getting quizzed on something. Something that's not strictly ceramics. "Forever rely. . . on. . . God?"
She nods, pleased with my response. "That's what Frankie means to me. All right, then, let's paint!"
I sit down to my own work station. I've got my brushes and three types of green acrylic for "Frankie's" body. As I get started, I don't realize my first mistake is loading down the first layer with too much paint. It's so thick it looks glazed. Oh well, nothing to do but to keep trucking. 30 minutes later, Sister Jane, the oldest of the nuns and perhaps the nicest, passes by my work station and nods. "Very lovely."
I find out later the Sister Jane corrects all of the mess-ups and she'll no doubt have to correct my tile. Sister Margaret tells me so. "You're going too fast."
"Am I?"
She sidles up next to me and shakes her head. "You've got to slow down and take your time." She shows me what I've down wrong; sloppy edges, dripping paint. My "Frankie" doesn't look quite as nice as her "Frankie." I hold my left hand in my lap, fearing she'll slap it (everything I know about nuns, I got from television).
As I watch her correct my mistakes, I realize how quickly I do work. When I start something creative, I want to be done with it as soon as possible. Or else, I grow bored of it. I want results and I want them now. And I half expected the sisters to congratulate me on my speed and offer to hang my "Frankie" on the wall.
I realize that one three hour session is not enough to finish my frog. I'd have to come back next Friday and work on it again. This isn't how I write poetry, is it? Steamrolling until I have a finished product and patting myself on the back for my speed?
I look around the studio at these women who are completely zenned out. Public radio plays in the background and they have no where else to be but here. Here, with their art. Sister Jane, with her spider-veined fingers and intent eyes squinting behind glasses, chiseling away at the Virgin Mary's face. She's at least, 95-years-old, but she's in no hurry. She knows that with time and patience, she can make her next mosaic project sing.
It's 4:30. My frog looks like crap. Sister Margaret appraises it thoughtfully. "It's pretty good for your first time."
"Yeah?"
"Oh sure. Now I want you to come back on Friday and finish it."
So I'm due to return to the studio next Friday. But the next time, I hope to bring a different attitude. I'm hoping to learn the valuable lesson of patience through these women. Anything created with love and patience is bound to be magnificent, right? We'll see how "Frankie" fares.
I just finished reading an interview Alice Walker in Bust Magazine and then another interview she did for Yes! Magazine. I almost forgot how awesome Walker was and then I landed myself into a full on daydream session.