STELLA

“I loaned you a little piece of my mind,” said Dorothy Conrad, nodding to her collage of colored papers resting on the table between us. Her slight frame and plaited hair gave her a childlike mien, but the wisdom of her ninety years inhabited her every word. Brightness glimmered in her tired eyes as she spoke of her love for art. She said, “Art gives me a chance to explore my mind and body; it gives me a chance to explore my self. I love art because it keeps me in tune with the experiences I had before and the people I meet.”

I met Ms. Conrad, a former elementary school teacher, at the adult care center where I work. She taught art and language arts for twenty five years in Charlottesville, Virginia, and now in her retirement she has turned to art once again. She has a precise vision for her work, a colorful and benevolent vision, and with stiffened hands trembling from Parkinson’s disease she sets out with determination to give form to that vision. “My condition has changed, but my mind is still with me,” she professes. So when her condition begins to restrain her eager hands, she shares her vision with those whose healthy hands might continue the work hers had begun.

My own hands served her in this way as she was composing a collage at the center in October 2011. Given an empty circle with a black border, Ms. Conrad instructed me to divide the shape so as to evoke both a crescent moon and a rounded sun. Inside the shapes, she placed three stars over which she asked me to layer bands of colored paper. Her composition called to mind a jubilant sunset, the brilliant array of colors marking the passage of day into night. I could not help but see in this simple collage and its thoughtful maker an important message about the creative spirit at the twilight of life. For this reason, with Ms. Conrad’s generous approval, a little piece of her mind hangs brightly over the words streaming through the pages of this site.

—LC, 2012