Green Windows: Art of Interchange
  • Home
  • About
    • Founder
    • Advisory Board
    • Why "Green Windows?"
    • The AWA Method
  • Workshops/Services
    • Creative Writing Workshops >
      • Invite Us
      • Join Us
    • Creative Dialogue Consulting
  • Contact
  • Gallery
  • Blog
  • Get Involved

Blog

Words from our writers

Pain by Karen Gordon

1/29/2020

0 Comments

 
Picture
Green Windows gives me a forum in which to share personal experiences in a fictionalized way. It is not therapy, but it does give insight into feelings and motivations that can be expressed in powerful descriptions of life. Some of my best fiction and memoir has come from the opportunity to explore and reveal scenes to myself that lie just below the surface, untapped. I find this invaluable as a writer. 

The piece below was written in the January Green Windows Uniquely Yours workshop. The prompt was Pain, specifically images of things that remind you of pain.
​

As is the magic of writing spontaneously from a prompt, you never know where your pen will lead you, if you let it. This is where it led me (unedited).

 Karen Gordon


Picture
Pain

by Karen Gordon

Cutting. Cutting the skin, cutting off the blood. Cutting off the air. Blown to the ground, punched in the neck. Yes I saw stars. But the shock was the lack of breath. Then the shock of the violation, the violence. And the sense that I did something so extremely wrong as would cause this scenario. 

Of course, I knew from the start that this was not a person that revered me, although he was all sweet words and smooth moves at the start. I imagined I had found a partner, a mate, dare I think a father of my child? But deep desires and fantasies die hard and I had to play this one out to the end. At the start, I believed in my own inadequacies, believed the lie that if I just lost 5 or 10 pounds that I would be desirable enough. That how he saw me was more accurate than how I saw myself. If I were stronger, more confident, I wouldn’t have followed him from place to place, wouldn’t have been more afraid of being alone than being emotionally and now physically abused. But I wasn’t strong then. And I was led by my lack.

Sometimes it’s best to be ignored, best to let things slide. It’s never been strong in my nature to “let it be.” I guess I need a sign of magnitude, to shout at me – STOP – let this one go. You don’t have to have the definitive straight-forward answer. And you can’t know what another person’s triggers are. Until you do.
​

I learned that night, that Xmas eve, about cornering a wild animal, one that looks calm on the outside but inside is so full of rage and angry remorse – that DANGER should flash from his eyes in red. And, of course, when I tried to make sense of it, to talk myself into a state of blame – I thought that gave me some control, some insight.

I was just wrong. I had to leave and never go back there.





0 Comments

Reflections by Catherine Mencher

12/4/2019

1 Comment

 
Picture
(written November 11,2019)

In honor of NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month), I returned to the notebooks, dusty under my nightstand, filled with the work I’d done with Peggy. In the spirit of honoring my writing, my self, and my sanity, I walked my 19 -month-old son, who had not napped for the day, a mile to the library. When his chirpy banter slowed, paces from our destination, I exhaled as I lowered his stroller seat, both of us reaching equilibrium. I wheeled us into the library and returned to pieces I’d scrawled in Uniquely Yours.

Magic to return to this piece, written 8 years from the experience and now 2 years past that.

Another type of magic, Green Windows’ workshops are and aren’t about the process. I know she tugged something from me with her prompt, the trust in the room and the timer. I don’t know the prompt, and it doesn’t matter. Written likely in 10 minutes, my piece sits complete.

As I reread Athens, GA 2009, I inhabit the smaller clothes and forgotten shoes of the narrator. I poke open the door and wander about.

It’s about the process and it’s not. I’m using a timer for this meta exercise in which I’m writing about what I wrote in Uniquely Yours, but I sit alone. As the timer slows, I’m not shifting to the new energy when we share and appreciate one another in Uniquely Yours. I’m grateful for this piece I wrote, a capsule, and for now knowing this process/not process. I know a hint of that community will see me, honor me by taking in this blog post.


Picture
​Athens, GA 2009

by Catherine Mencher
(written March 9, 2017 in a Uniquely Yours monthly workshop)

Head out the laundry room door, and there’s a trampoline from Craigslist.


Notice the two trailers on the back right. One of them might hold a family. There’s a plastic trike on the dirt in front. There’s a rag over the window. The other one houses a glasses-wearing white man who comes by to collect Tom’s cigarette butts. Put them in a New York Times newspaper bag for him.

On your left of the trampoline is a two-story house. A new dad. Talk to him about how the weather in Athens, GA has changed since he was a young kid. Remember to reject Southern stereotypes. Curve around the trampoline, notice my half-hearted DIY project: wine bottles buried in the dirt all cockananied and inconsistent.

Be impressed by the strawberries Vanessa planted.

Talk to the very old widow who lives in the teeny brick house next door as she hangs her thin house dresses out to dry. When she says her and her husband lived here when it was just a hill, remember. Remember the sprawling apartment complexes just a few doors down, remember the shady house with the guys who shared their coke and dressed you up just one road down, remember the public housing two stories tall just at the corner, and feel sad for her. Give her a hug.

1 Comment

10-Year Impact Survey - Results

11/19/2019

1 Comment

 
In September, we asked Green Windows participants to respond to a survey to gauge the impact of our work since we began Green Windows in 2008.

The respondents exemplified the diversity of participants in our workshops:  
  • Majority of respondents identify as queer or LGBTQ+. 
  • 15% of survey respondents identify as non-binary.
  • Over a quarter of respondents' educational background is "some college" and a third of respondents' educational background is a master's degree.
  • Participants have a variety of roles in the community: cashier, psychotherapist, dog boarder, disabled, communications manager at a nonprofit, mother, songwriter, etc. 
  • The largest share of respondents make less than 25k annually.
  • 15% of respondents are over 65 and 10% started the workshops when they were below 18.​

70% of respondents participated in more than 10 workshops, with 39% attending between 11 and 50 and 31% attending more than 50.

Here's what we learned from them:
Picture
From all the comments to all the questions.

1) Green Windows' participants increase their self-confidence in their creative expression and its authenticity.
100% of respondents agreed.
Where I initially thought writing was something I "could do," I now confidently see myself as a writer, as someone who creates through writing. GW gave me positive momentum to engage in my writing practice.

[Peggy] has helped me recover so many times from writer's block and from feeling more insufficient as a writer. She has also given me a bunch of techniques to help myself write which are so useful!!

It has been very helpful to hear positive feedback, if only to give me the confidence I need to pursue further development of particular stories...


I want to underscore how much Peggy's facilitation has encouraged me to trust and explore my creative voice, to really go all in (even if I don't know where it's going) rather than curtail myself. My writing has become much more experimental and honest, and I'm so grateful to GW for that. As someone who has historically had a lot of trouble starting/finishing what I write, GW has also helped me practice getting words on a page and being less precious about writing.

Peggy is great at reminding everyone that they have a unique voice worth sharing.

Writing about personal experience is a tool for self-reflection. Writing & sharing (if you choose) without judgement and only affirmative feedback, builds confidence in your abilities and the value of your voice & story. I have experienced all of this through working with Peggy & GW.

Reminding me of the personal benefits of putting some thinking into writing. It’s for me before it’s for someone else to read.

I also trust my voice and what comes up in my writing a lot more than before.

The use of free expression has left my creativity to a new level, one in which I can feel extremely confident in my writing.

It has given me confidence by creating a safe place to write and get feedback.

2) Green Windows' participants increase their self-confidence within artistic and creative spaces.
96% of respondents agreed.

Now I feel more powerful behind my pen because I know I have a community behind me. More confident in reading my work in public spaces and having it published.


I go out and read my poetry to people, and I share my writing and stories with other people.

3) Green Windows' participants increase their commitment to their personal creative expression and their identity as an artist.​
96% of respondents agreed.

I find myself jotting down vignettes (similar to the workshop prompts) at home, which is huge personal growth from a few years ago.

She [Peggy] also helps encourage the regular practice that builds confidence and skill.

I take my writing craft and practice more seriously.



4) Green Windows Workshops strengthen community.
96% of respondents agreed.
I've been both Peggy's colleague and her student -- and her work and approach have always reminded me that writing is for more than just publication, impressing others, making money or 'keeping track'. It's a form of holy communion, with ourselves, with each other, with our neighbors. Peggy's approach is focused, nonjudgemental, and always based on encouraging fellow-writers to see and respect their talent and their voices, as well as the talent and voices of others. If there were more of her, we'd all be better off.

Her [Peggy's] workshop was very inclusive. I sometimes feel shy about my voice or telling stories but she makes it available and comfortable for anyone to write and share.

We become vulnerable together and that helps us heal each other and ourselves.​

Peggy has helped me get past awkwardness and shyness, as I've seen her do for many, to participate in events and activities that otherwise would be really challenging for me. Through this participation I have become closer to the community we work with.


Understanding by listening. Listening to the fact or fiction of other people’s bones... this is what it means to be in community.

The diversity of writers drawn to GW, along with the values of trust and respect for each other, are what makes GW workshops very meaningful experiences.


5) Green Windows' participants develop the skill to appreciate rather than criticize.
100% of respondents agreed.
I am now curious about the stories that people I engage with have. Due to my work with GW I've begun the process of passing less initial judgement. I see more than the exterior and the expectations.

I think I have come to have more respect for many different types of writing that I previously thought I was uninterested in or didn't know how to appreciate. Peggy showed me through example how to listen for the really amazing things each writer brings in their unique style.

6) Green Windows Workshops break down barriers between people different from each other.
100% of respondents agreed.
People are amazingly open in her workshops. I hear people I would not listen to otherwise.

When we have different people come to the group and hear each other’s stories/experiences, it makes me want to do more (for example, this year was my first pride parade). It makes me want to meet people from, and learn about, different cultures, upbringings, food, etc. It has motivated me to get more involved in protests and marches.


Our group has such diverse voices and experiences, as well as styles of writing.

I really appreciate the age diversity in the monthly writing workshops.

I've enjoyed the diversity of the group and learned from others sharing their life experience.


It's just nice coming together with other writers and people passionate about writing even when we're so different. Our writing is different, as are our perspectives, which gives a richness and freshness to the feedback provided and the space itself.

100% of respondents
​would like to take another workshop.
100% of respondents
​recommend the workshop to others.​

THANK YOU to everyone who responded to the survey! 
Check out Peggy's Creative Dialogues - you can bring her unique facilitation skills to your workplace! 
The monthly workshops rely on donations. Thank you for supporting this important work, if you can!!
1 Comment

All I Want To Do Is Write by Steph Yun

2/20/2018

1 Comment

 
PictureSteph Yun, Green Windows Advisory Board Member
I recall being an unusually keen and observant child, and there seem to be a myriad of stories and memories confirming such. For instance, I was told that from birth until about the age of two, I seldom spoke beyond uttering the Korean words for mother and father, or other short, one-word phrases. Over time, my parents grew concerned and considered taking me to a pediatric developmental specialist, but one day, I requested a glass of water in a full, complete sentence. While I myself have no recollection of this happening, it also doesn't surprise me in the least. I like to collect and gather bits and pieces of things before deciding what to do with them. I especially love stories and storytelling---stories are how I understand myself, others, and the world around me.


I was also a child who experienced extremely intense emotions and did not know what to do with them. I had intrusive thoughts that I knew were troubling and abnormal. There was a lot of yelling in my household, both around me and directed at me. My mother in particular would fly into fits of unpredictable and  unrelenting rage. One reason I really enjoyed school and learning was because I could see my friends, my teacher, and get away from my traumatic home environment.


And in my mind, school comprised of two distinct parts: writing, and everything else that wasn't writing. The act of writing itself brought me such great joy. As silly as the stories and poems were, sometimes unoriginal in their content, they were something I got to make myself. I never wanted to stop. Writing was a place where I could let my creativity and odd thoughts be, and sharing my work with others felt fulfilling. I was proficient in other subjects, sure; advanced, even, but I quickly grew impatient waiting to review yet another example for concepts I already understood. I did like reading to an extent but often felt dissatisfied and crushingly disappointed with most of the books I encountered. They simply couldn't hold my interest. 


Life continued on and I found myself writing poetry on occasion. Different topics, but usually something abstract and vague. However, my reintroduction to poetry came during my sophomore year of high school. I had just left therapy and was still struggling with depression and thoughts of suicide. After talking to a friend about my feelings, he admitted that he didn't understand what I was going through but wanted to, so he suggested that I try writing a poem. I wrote this very personal poem on the topic and ended up competing in a youth slam where I received a perfect 30. Scores aside, what moved me most was the overwhelming support I received afterwards. People I didn't know showed me love, said they liked my poem. Some of them even thanked me, saying they were going through something similar or knew someone who was. It was the first time I felt heard and realized my voice was powerful. As a sad young person, it meant the world to me.


Thereafter, I became very involved in an organization called Youth Speaks, who also hosted the slam I first competed in. I attended countless writing workshops, open mics, slams, and shows, all free, and served on their youth advisory board for three years. I loved every moment of it and had the chance to apprentice under teaching artists who mentored me. From time-to-time, I performed poems, helped out at events, and sometimes facilitated a workshop here and there. In college, I found my place in CalSLAM, a student-led writing organization, and June Jordan's Poetry for the People program.


During this time, I was also named the first Oakland Youth Poet Laureate and received an award for my writing. Since then, I haven't really prioritized my own writing but I'm hoping to change that. My last year of college, I felt extremely burnt out and all I wanted to do was write again. I veered away from the career path I was set on and at this point in my life, I'm thinking of pursuing my writing professionally.


Where does Green Windows fit into all of this? Everywhere. I met the founder, Peggy, through the various organizations and spaces I've been involved in. She has been one of my fiercest proponents, one of my greatest mentors, and one of my most thoughtful friends and sources of overall support. We see each other in passing at the Oakland Public Library, an opportunity she encouraged me to apply for, and in our work with youth.


Peggy invited me to write with Green Windows sometime last year and it has been my most favorite writing group of any I've ever participated in. Peggy's passion and skill as a writer/facilitator are unrivaled, and I love Green Windows for the community it brings together. I've never written with such a dynamic, diverse group of writers not only from different walks of life but also across styles and genres. This alone has helped my writing grow. Every writer that graces the space is serious about their craft, and hearing others' work as well as receiving feedback on mine has allowed me to develop and challenge myself in invaluable ways. My writing is the best it's ever been and I know that this is in part due to the work at Green Windows.


So how might I describe my actual writing process? I find that I write in small bursts and need to have several projects going on at a time. I'm quite touch-and-go and my focus shifts quickly. Some ideas float around and some are forgotten but I try to capture those thoughts before they're beyond summoning. Sometimes I know exactly how to start, what to write, what I want to say, and other times I start with a freewrite, tapping into something my conscious mind is too busy to notice there. My style has been changing and that's exciting. I'm excited to try something new. I have a lot of stories, a lot of thoughts, a lot of feelings and curiosities, and my writing allows me to explore them all together.

Picture
this poem does not contain the word queer

by Steph Yun

                        i've always wanted to buy one of those flavored lubes;
                                                                                    artificial,
                                                  viscous 
                                                                                                              greens & blues

                                                                                  little need for them, really;
                                                                                  i can    lick    
                                                                                  &        suck
                                                                                  just fine,        but
                                                                                  this pretty sex store
                                                                                  all recessed lighting &
                                                                                  frosted windows
                                                                                  gave out samples
                                                                                  when i was 17


    oh what fun we could have
    on skin &
    sweat, a palette in
    surrender of its usual
    proceedings,
    its measured
    complaint


                                              to feast on the body before me
                                                        but whose body
                                                          do i dream of
                                                               exactly?


                                                                    ---


there is something curious about everyone saying that they
already knew. everyone, that is, but you. you once developed
a great interest in breasts and their form before you felt ready,
even before fully understanding that in time, you would grow
them, too. 


            the lust dissipated somewhat, and for a short while, you disregarded
            all the bodies and persons similar in some ways to you. you fell in
            love with a nice boy, and all the nice
아줌마 that remind you of                  
            your mother in a certain way said you were lucky to find a good man

            so young.

you smiled, knowing they saw their daughters and nieces in you but never with you.


1 Comment

Frontera by Lena Nicodemus

10/31/2017

0 Comments

 
PictureLena, ready to receive the writing prompt: Green Windows monthly workshop February 2017.
I remember a few years ago, I was going through childhood stuff as I started to move the last of my things out of my parents’ basement, and I found poems I wrote when I was probably in the 5th grade. I wrote a few that were what I thought poetry was supposed to sound like, a few that were what I thought cute girls were supposed to write about, and then there was this other one. I was really passionate about the wild world as a kid. I was part of a project that same year where my friend and I raised money to help protect snow leopards. I used to keep a sticker collection, like most 90’s babies, and the front cover was a tree frog. I had a budding monkey stuffed animal collection, and anytime I could, I escaped to the woods behind my house, where no one could hurt me.

I’m a trauma therapist for children and families at an elementary school. A lot of what motivated me to get into the work I do was my own trauma as a kid. I was sexually abused by an older neighbor who also bullied me in front of other kids from age 5 to 10, and my family had a lot of dysfunction, to say the least. School, the woods, books, writing, my own fantasy world: These were what kept me alive. I was that kid who could read and walk through the hallways from classes--to this day, my peripheral vision is on fleek.

This poem I found was about big construction vehicles rolling through a beautiful, pristine rainforest; ugly, metallic machines attacking the sweet greens and damp brown of the earth and bright red of a flying bird leaving its disappearing nest. The animals began to run until the snakes hissed back. The snakes hissed back and led a revolt and the animals turned around and took down those big machines with all the power of them standing up for the protection of their home.

I read this poem, and I knew that the part inside me that, 15 years later, started my own personal revolt against my abuser and the environment that broke my heart and my innocence, started it with this poem and the teacher that asked me to write it and wanted to hear me read it.

I read this poem, and I knew that I wanted to be the person who would ask others to write about how they would start their revolts and then help them start them.

Today, I’m lucky to get to hear those stories and to help re-write them so that the suffering, the cycle of abuse, stops. I try to remember to never underestimate the power of a poem, a metaphor, a story.
​

When I found Green Windows last year, I was ready to write more of my story, and Peggy and the group of amazing people she manifested every month kept me coming back and writing more. The writing below is an excerpt from a book I’m writing based on my own story and all the stories I’ve heard throughout my lifetime. ​


Picture
Excerpt from Frontera 
by Lena Nicodemus 

​Mama helped Jo learn to stitch when she was old enough to hold the needle and the circular frame. It went in and out to the speed of their singing of songs that neither were old enough to fully understand. Jo would often overshoot the needle and accidentally stab herself in the pad of her index finger. 

“Ow!” She would pull her hand back as the costura became tinged with a little red dot of blood.

“Los errores son parte del aprendizaje,” Mama said then, something Abuela had taught her, something that Jo would tell her own children someday as a bookmark for moments of flawless idiosyncrasy.

​When the phone rang for the last time, it was months after the accident, and Grandma May lay flat on her bed with the orange curtains pulled closed at any time of day. Stale café and pan sat cold on her nightstand, next to a picture of Grandma May and Grandpa George with Mama, who looked up at her two smiling parents with no expression. 

“Vente, vente,” Grandma May beckoned. “Vente por aca.”

Her hands are wrinkly and dry. Jo opens the nightstand drawer & takes out the oil, rose, and sandalwood, with corn oil to make it last longer. She rubs Grandma May’s hands. She closes her eyes. She remembers the Sunday school teacher telling them the story of when the ladies, implicitly whorish, washed Jesus’ feet. Jo imagined washing the Sunday School teacher’s feet while he read the story over and over on a loop, incessant and dull. She imagined playing that game where you dart a blade between the webbing of a hand, and doing that to the Sunday School teacher’s feet. She would take the dullness of that blade and slide it between each of his toes as she made him breathe in and out and keep quiet.

The phone rings, and the attic is oddly silent. 

The phone rings, and Jo becomes aware of her mother’s radio two floors down, reverberating through the dry, wooden floorboards. The phone rings, and there’s no one on the other line. 

The birds of paradise at the edge of the property swivel in the air, being put off by the helicopter blades.

Tomás holds the curling edges of the burning books until they get too hot and he drops them, one by one.

The kiddie pool full of the ceniza of 1000’s of words and letters by underpaid and over-emotional authors starts to melt from the heat. He goes for the phonebooks as well, burning “Aguilar” to “Zafón” and “air-conditioning repair” to “yard waste removal.” There is a book with leather skin, a book with a note written in blue on the inside cover.
        “For Carlos,
        Please call me when this is over. 
        I love you, I miss you. Please come home.”

​The signature is illegible, the P.S. unreadable.
The title of the book is “Frontera”. “Border”.

0 Comments

    Categories

    All
    ACJJC
    Advisory Board
    Apprentice
    AWA Method
    Creative Dialogues
    Facilitation
    Freedom Of Expression
    Healing
    Juvenile Hall
    Liberation
    Oakland Youth Poet Laureate
    Pandemic
    Process
    Retirement
    Uniquely Yours
    What Works
    Why Write?
    Youth Writing

    Archives

    July 2020
    June 2020
    May 2020
    April 2020
    March 2020
    February 2020
    January 2020
    December 2019
    November 2019
    October 2019
    September 2019
    August 2019
    July 2019
    June 2019
    May 2019
    April 2019
    March 2019
    February 2019
    January 2019
    December 2018
    November 2018
    October 2018
    September 2018
    August 2018
    July 2018
    June 2018
    May 2018
    April 2018
    March 2018
    February 2018
    January 2018
    December 2017
    November 2017
    October 2017
    September 2017
    August 2017
    July 2017
    June 2017
    May 2017

    RSS Feed

    Newsletter
    Donate
NEWSLETTER
DONATE
Picture
Green Windows: Art of Interchange is a Member of Intersection for the Arts. Intersection for the Arts is a historic arts nonprofit that provides people working in arts and culture with fiscal sponsorship and resources to grow.

​Website by Jessica Liu from Hack the Hood 2017 Bootcamp
  • Home
  • About
    • Founder
    • Advisory Board
    • Why "Green Windows?"
    • The AWA Method
  • Workshops/Services
    • Creative Writing Workshops >
      • Invite Us
      • Join Us
    • Creative Dialogue Consulting
  • Contact
  • Gallery
  • Blog
  • Get Involved