Mary van Balen

After a longish day of travel that took me to Seattle via Tennesee, I met my friend Kathryn and her husband Gary for my first experience of Washington state. First impression? Cool, almost cold! Wonderful relief coming from parched midwest. Gary parked the car and we took a walk along Puget Sound until arriving at one of their favorite little seafood diners. All types of seafood was breaded and fried by the owner, an older man who had been running the Sun Fish for quite a few years. Kathryn and Gary had salmon. I tried scallops. Not greasy. Delicious.

We walked back by the beach dotted with white tents, closed, which sheltered all types of art work. A festival of somesort. Along the water, three groups had built roaring bonefires in large firerings. I don't know if they used driftwood, but it was plentiful. Frisbees, dogs, laughter, music, all part of the scene. But, the one who stole the show was the bubble lady of Puget Sound. At least that is what I called her. She was using poles about six feet long connected with fabric "rope," and dipped into what I can only say was amazing "bubble juice." The crowd around her grew as she raised the poles above her head, holding them about a foot apart, and walked slowly, allowing the air to create huge bubbles that twisted and grew, alive with color and movement. So alive did they appear that we were all surpised when they suddenly dissolved into white film that fell to the ground.

She blew into the swirling film and created bubbles inside of bubbles, holding us all, young and old, spellbound. I remembered making a much smaller version of the bubble poles for my children and to use in school settings, but I had not developed a bubble solution as fullproof as the bubble lady's. When she was taking a rest, I walked over and began a conversation. She sells the "bubble juice" that she had developed far beyond my own dishwashing liquid and glycerin. She also photographs the bubbles and hopes to sell large prints to those decorating office buildings. (You can view her bubbles at Big Dipper Bubbles

"My bubbles are art," she said. Kathryn, Gary, and I agreed. Art in the moment, and art caught by a camera. We didn't have the opportunity to see the photos. Disappointing. I will check her website. But what a perfect way to begin a week-long visit with friends: Celebrating life, its simplicity, its beauty, its serendipity. The bubble lady set the tone for this trip to the Northwest that would nourish my spirit with joy and prayer as well as my body with as much seafood as I can resaonably put into it!
 Read More 

The weekly Convivium, or gathering for lunch and conversation, was one of my favorite events during my year at the Collegeville Institute. Sponsored by the School of Theology, the lunch was prepared by a different group each week and showcased ethnic foods of the students and residents as well as good old American standards. "Convivium" comes from the Latin meaning "feast," or in a more broad understanding, "living together" from "con" + "vivio."

The experience in Collegeville followed noon prayer (also led by students) and provided an opportunity to share good food, conversation, news of upcoming events, while contributing to the sense of community.

I am blessed to share a monthly meal, conversation, and prayer with a small group where I live. We have been meeting for about seven years and bring one another joy and support. In our society, taking time to sit together, savor food and enjoy others' company is becoming less common. Many families have difficulty finding time to eat together as they juggle work, school, sports, and other activities.  Read More 

The sun beat down on artists, poets, and gallery visitors gathered for the opening of the "Language of Art" exhibit that featured twenty-five selected pieces of art and poems written in response to them. One by one, poets took center stage and read their works. I sat in a plastic lawn chair and watched, noting the variety of forms poets take: young and old, men and women. Some women readers wore pumps and dresses, others jeans and t-shirts. One walked up and halfway through her poem her hands began to shake. She put one behind her back while the other shook the paper.

"Such a small group," I thought, "and she is so nervous. She must not be accustomed to reading her work before an audience." I admired her commitment to her art. One man wore a sports jacket. Others were more casual. Each was given rapt attention and applause when they had finished. All of us sat, listened, and sweated together until the last line was read, when we moved back into the gallery to cool off and study again the art and poems displayed beside them. Read More 

I visited the Baan Kuhn Pranee project to purchase intricately woven bamboo baskets by women employed by the SUPPORT project in Phanat Nikhom District. On July 21, 1976, Queen Sirikit of Thailand established Supplementary Occupations and Related Techniques, popularly known as SUPPORT. For many years, the Queen had established cottage industries using her own money, enabling women living in rural villages and on farms to work from home or near home. The women were taught Thai crafts in danger of being lost. The results are baskets and fabrics of top quality and unique patterns and style. These women are paid a fair wage and are able to help raise their families out of a life of poverty.

In some of the SUPPORT projects, women with handicaps are taught the fine crafts giving them, as the Queen said, a chance at raising their self-value as well as earning a living. Read More 

WOMAN'S HEAD, BY KATHRYN HOLT, PHOTO MARY VAN BALEN


Years ago, my daughter sculpted a woman’s head for an art class but forgot to make a hole in the base to allow the escape of heated air. The piece exploded in the kiln, and she was irritated at her oversight. Her instructor, ceramicist Tony Davenport, had a different opinion.

“Don’t worry,” he said as she glued together large pieces that remained. “This may be the best thing that happened to it.”

Kathryn wasn’t sure how to take his remark. Did the hours painstakingly dedicated to creating the head count less towards its artistic merit than the accidental explosion?  Read More