A Rooster is Necessary
Dear Friends,
Last Friday was my birthday. My mom came to visit from Florida, in part to spend the day with me, and in part to help me throw my daughter a small early birthday party the next day. (Nora’s actual birthday is the day after Thanksgiving–not the best time to celebrate with friends.)
Saturday was also the fifth anniversary of my father’s death, a milestone that feels both impossible and permanent. For the longest while, I could cope with the feeling of the passage of time because he was missing so much bad stuff, being gone. He missed political turmoil, the pandemic…but now that so much time has passed, it’s the loss of the shared good experiences that feels the heaviest. He’s never met his two youngest grandchildren. There are whole homes he’s never entered.
Grief is the ultimate shapeshifter. It felt better to be together with my mom, hanging streamers around my living room, wrangling a bunch of almost-but-not-quite four-year-olds through arts and crafts and cupcakes.
Partly it was a distraction, sure. But it was also a literal celebration of birth––a celebration of life and growth even after loss.
On Sunday, after the hubbub of the party was over and my house had been restored to normal, I took my mom into the city for a visit to the National Gallery of Art. We tried to remember the last time she’d been. Every visit to my house over the last three years has been more focused on my daughter’s needs and naps, as well as trying to avoid crowds. We’d visited every park in Del Ray, but I hadn’t taken my mom into the city.
But this used to be the kind of thing we did every time she came to town. My mom is a painter and a lifelong art lover. We’ve visited the National Gallery together many times. Just not in a while.
We visited some of our favorite familiar paintings–the lavender Pollack. Wyeth’s open window. The Hopper with the big mood, the dog the only happiness in the frame. The giant Picasso that I always think should be the cover of Emily St. John Mandel’s Station Eleven–a theatre troupe at the end of the world. I felt such peace in being in the museum after a physically busy and emotionally heavy day. In a museum, the body performs a slow shuffle across the floor. The mind lingers on the walls.
In a museum, no one asks you for anything. You wander only where your eyes take you. You stop for a coffee. You dive back in. Time ceases to have real meaning.
“We’ve got to go up on the roof to visit the chicken,” I told my mom.
“The chicken?”
“Well, technically it’s a rooster. A giant blue rooster.”
“How have I have never seen the giant blue rooster?”
After ascending the wrong tower (just Rothkos), we went back downstairs and got a bit lost in the exhibits until we found the correct elevator to Tower 2. We’d just missed it going up, and we waited and waited for it to return. In a museum with so much to see, getting on the roof to see one specific piece of art seemed a little silly, but I felt this drive–like we needed to get up there.
We finally stepped out onto the roof terrace.
“May I present…the giant blue rooster,” I said.
Its combed head is held high. Its tail feathers are ruffled and jolly. It is the brightest royal blue. It is fourteen feet tall.
The rooster: who wakes without fail. Who crows out in the dark. A symbol of regeneration, strength, awakening.
My word for the year was delight, and that’s what we felt in that moment. My mom’s utter surprise at seeing something so impressive and absurd. My delight at seeing her reaction. I took her photo communing with the rooster–two monochrome figures in conversation. One enormous, cheerful bird. One small, grieving human.
We took a moment to read the plaque.
“Oh, it’s new,” my mom said. “No wonder I hadn’t seen it.”
Artist Katharina Fritsch created her sculpture, Hahn/Cock, in 2013. It was acquired by the Glenstone, then loaned to the National Gallery in 2016, when I was living abroad. The Glenstone officially donated it to the National Gallery in 2021 in honor of the resilience of the American people during the pandemic.
I have seen this resilience in my mother. Continuing to wake every day in the face of massive loss. Continuing to show strength. To raise the next generation with care and tenderness without the partner who steadied her. To survive a pandemic when nothing was certain. And to stand before a giant blue rooster on a perfect fall day, and to find joy.
We didn’t need it before, you know? Everything used to mostly be fine. But now a rooster is necessary. To meet the rooster and succumb to sorrow seems impossible. Keep going, it says. Keep showing up. There is still much to see. There is still much to create and celebrate. There is still surprise, even in the places you think you know well. It’s worth getting lost on the way to the roof. Keep making your way up.
Take good care,
Dot
News & Updates
We’re excited to announce that Kristopher Forren, MA will be joining our practice as an Associate Art Therapist under the supervision of Laura Miles, LPC, ATR-BC and Adele Stuckey, LPC, ATR-BC. Kristopher specializes in working with adults and older adults who are experiencing life transitions that bring feelings of depression, anxiety, or grief. Kristopher also works with LGBTQIA+ adults seeking to explore their identity and express their authentic self.
Reach out today to schedule your free 15-minute consultation with Kristopher.
Katie Gaynor, MA, ATR-P has openings available for new clients ages 6-adult looking for help processing grief, stress, anxiety and depression, trauma, or life transitions. Evening appointment times available.
Reach out today to schedule your free 15-minute consultation with Katie.
Adele Stuckey, LPC, ATR-BC has availability for new clients seeking therapy for couples work, LGBTQIA+ affirming therapy, perinatal mental health, anxiety, depression, or trauma.
Reach out today to schedule your free 15-minute consultation with Adele.
What is EDPP Supervision? The El Duende process painting technique, originated by Abbe Miller, is a one-canvas painting that uses many layers built up over the supervision experience to enhance clinical learning. We offer supervision for Virginia LPCs and us-based Art therapists in qualifying states.
Individual Supervision: Laura offers individual supervision in person at our office in old town Alexandria, VA, or virtually. $110/Session. If your state has its own art therapy license (KY, MD, NJ, NY, TN, TX, AZ, LA, NH), hours will not count towards your credential. Please make sure you confirm exact requirements with your state board.
In-Person Supervision Group: Our in-person group meets monthly in Old Town and is open to therapists accruing hours for the Registered Art Therapist (ATR) credential and the Licensed Professional Counselor (LPC) license in Virginia. $200/4 Hours.
Virtual Supervision Group: Our virtual group meets monthly and is open to US-based art therapists in qualifying states. $200/4 hours. If your state has its own art therapy license (KY, MD, NJ, TN, TX, AZ, LA, NH), hours will not count towards your credential. Please make sure you confirm exact requirements with your state board.
Get in touch! send us an email at info@alexandriaarttherapy.com or fill out our interest form.
Resources
Did you know we have downloadable resources on our website? You can find our guides Becoming an Art Therapist, Journal Prompts for Self Exploration, and (newly added!) our Self-Care Workbook. We hope you enjoy them—let us know what you’d like to see next!
Links We Like
Social media wasn’t built for navigating intractable conflicts.
Oof.
I like these prompts for November.
“You’re supposed to have this dedicated group of women that does girls’ trips every year…This is how movies and TV shows show friendship. If you didn’t have that…you immediately think, ‘Well, I don’t have any friends.’” But what if we’re thinking about friendship all wrong?
Hahn/Cock by Katharina Fritsch:
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