Tuesday, October 19, 2010


These are the words I said at my mom's funeral

In the hallway just outside my bedroom is a 5-foot tall man. Although this “puzzled man” is faceless, his expression says more than most. He wants the world to think that he is cool calm and collected. Yet he knows that he could easily go to pieces at any time. This artwork is a wonderful ceramic picture that represents a lot to me about who my mom was.
Her art and her life show us so many interpretations.
It makes us think.
It makes us look.
It makes us question the things that we see and the things that we believe.
For those who have never seen this piece, it is large as life. The man is made of ceramic puzzle pieces that are put together to make his form. They are all adhered to a board on a frame and the whole piece is hung on the wall.
It is bold and unique.
Just like my mom.
She took the path less traveled. Many times she forged her own path. Her art is just one small part of who she was. To me the biggest piece was that she was my mom.
I remember mom bringing us to the Prendergast library in Jamestown. We would spend an afternoon marveling and wandering around the stacks. When it became time to leave I would be carrying an armful of books. My passion for reading is a piece of me that my mom gave me.
I remember playing a game while my mom was driving. We would take turns choosing directions for the next intersection. Taking those random lefts and rights led us to unexpected adventures. We laughed and proceeded down many less traveled roads and found so many unexpected sights. This sense of wonder was another piece of me given to me by my mom.
I am a “puzzled man” made up of thousands of pieces. Each piece a gift from all those that I have come in contact with. This is my perspective on life and it is inspired by a 5-foot piece of art that looks over me.
When you look at it you may see other things.
There are layers and layers of understanding that my mom as the artist helps us peel. I think my mom meant her art and her life to be dynamic. The beauty in what she creates is the flower that blossoms in the viewer. Understanding and perspectives change. We grow. We choose our own way. None are the right way.

I am the puzzled man and I love you to pieces.