Life In Layers

On Staying Curious + An Invitation For You

Special thanks and welcome to new subscribers, Emily, Lindsey, Susanna, Rebecca, and Marcella.

My grandfather used to work for PanAm airlines and noted that airports are prime real estate for “people-watching.” As a child growing up in a military family, we traveled a lot, which meant a lot of time waiting in airports around the world, and so I learned early on to keep myself entertained—or at least distracted, by observing the people around me. There is always something, or someone interesting to see. Last year before a flight, I observed a gaggle of teen boys dressed in khakis and sport coats, sipping Starbucks and waxing eloquent about the writings of Johnathan Haidt, specifically his book, The Coddling of the American Mind, while also mock-kicking at each other and ragging on one another’s hair, need to shave, etc. I observed them through the lens of being a mom with her own teen boys at home, and as stranger, curious about where these boys came from, where they were headed half-dressed up, and what had prompted their discussion about Johnathan Haidt’s work. Was it required reading for them? Were they part of a debate team? Observing them opened a new tab in my brain. I was surprised and amused by their conversations about culture, politics, and their deductions about the world at large.

Another time in the airport in Nashville, actress, Sela Ward strode right in front of me. I used to watch her on the show, Sisters, and of course remembered her from The Fugitive, where she played wife to Harrison Ford. Was she filming in Nashville? On vacation? Coming home? I was instantly curious.¹

It’s fair to say that we live in an age where our curiosity is squelched by the impulse to opine on everything, including that which we know nothing about. Curiosity looks on with interest, it wonders, it considers, it imagines that things might be more than they appear—and perhaps it gives the benefit of the doubt. Curiosity invites a generosity of consideration.

As I’ve reflected on my own love of people-watching, I am learning to do it not only outside of myself, but inside my own life and stories. Thinking about my grandmother has been an invitation to consider her life, and the ways I was shaped by her presence. I can’t observe her now, but I can remain curious about who she was, what shaped her, and how those things are still shaping me. What I’m saying is, we can people-watch backwards through reflecting on our memories. I love people. We are infinitely fascinating creatures, and I love stories about people, which is perhaps why Memoir is my most favorite genre to read.

My curiosity about other people’s stories, about the experiences they’ve had, what has shaped their lives—for better or worse, holds my attention for untold hours. One of the saddest things about our culture is the belief that famous people lead more interesting lives than the average soul. I would just as soon read a memoir written by my neighbor than one written by someone whose face appears on a screen or billboard somewhere. It’s an easy temptation in this noisy world to believe our own stores to be less significant than someone else’s. It’s this thought that sparked a creative idea in me, that is now an invitation for you.

Curiosity looks on with interest, it wonders, it considers, it imagines that things might be more than they appear—and perhaps it gives the benefit of the doubt. Curiosity invites a generosity of consideration.

If you’re a semi-regular reader here you are likely aware that art journaling is a regular creative practice for me. It helps get me out of my head and has been an abstract means of processing things that are simmering below the surface, but aren’t always easily articulated. I realized last year, that much of what I am doing in my art journal is crafting a visual memoir of sorts. I didn’t intend to do that, but that’s one of the fun things about making with your hands. Sometimes, you’re as surprised as anyone by what ends up on the canvas.

Join Me

Because this has been such a healing, curiousity-stoking process for me, I want to invite YOU into it. It doesn’t feel right to keep the power of this creative experience to myself. Besides, any opportunity to combine 2 things you love into one lovely experience, is worth it. Combining my love of memoir, and my love of art journaling together to create a 2-hour interactive art workshop for us to experience together, just made sense. Lost & Found, Life In Layers is happening online (via Zoom) on June 28 from 1-3PM (Eastern). It’s FREE to paying Substack subscribers, and also accessible to anyone wants to join.

I went a step further and am including a special gift for those who participate (Woot!). Everyone who registers for the workshop will receive a small, hand-selected vintage ephemera² packet to add to their supplies for this workshop. This loveliness will be mailed to you the old fashioned way, landing in your mailbox in time for you to use during our workshop.

This workshop is an invitation to people-watch in your own life. To get curious about your own stories, where you’ve been, the experiences you’ve had that have shaped you, and to look for a moment, or a season that you want to try to memorialize, transcribe, or simply work through using art as your medium. Who or what has left a significant mark on your life? What conversations have you overheard or had yourself that have not left your memory? What did you learn from your grandparents? If you’re willing to stay curious, the questions you can ask yourself are endless.

Registration for this workshop is open now. I can’t wait to make art with you. Space is limited. Registration closes on June 14.

FAQ’s

Do I need to have any art experience to participate? No, this workshop is for you regardless of experience.

Do I need to buy a bunch of supplies to join in? No, I will mail you a small ephemera packet that you can use, but you can work with your own photos, scraps of paper, magazine cut outs, glue, and scissors.

Will this be recorded in case I can’t make it? Yes—a recording will be made available once the workshop is over.

Please note that this workshop is non-refundable, and the ephemera packets will only be mailed to U.S. mailing addresses.