a deep knowledge of...

Words to Tamara Fleming


". . . The flow comes from and is a part of an effect upon the senses of the observer and she who causes the soul to stir. It is fair to say the observed, and the observer co-exist within one. It is math, the law of math with its infinite way of being consistent. The symbol of hair for, within and from African women involves the intimate rush of knowing to belong to one's powers. Dreadlocks return millions throughout the African Diaspora to bound back from the terror of surviving under the dictates of slave master's grandchildren. The power within kinky hair ties strength to power, to purpose direction and in the direction where one is determined to go are the voices of Ancestors, who know us.

This powerful story is the kinky hair gone to the roots of the peoples of the darker hue.. 

This memory came from glancing into what is clear in your eyes!. . ." 


- Gregory E. Woods, 
Keeper of Stories 10/30/18 

Dreadlocks worn by Tamara Fleming. 

IN Between

Sun lit the room.

"I love the story of light and shadow. The way it is a nuance and an announcement is as intriguing as changing light, falling darkness and the space in-between. Light and shadow shift perception as wine shifts mood and sensation, and tobacco lifts pain, mood and spirit in the old ways of my Ancestors in ceremony. This play is where Spirits create mystique, compel questions to arise from the stillness..." - Gregory E. Woods, Keeper of Stories 10/09/18

Sunlight from the window upon Nella taken by Kenneth Lysgaard‎.2018.

the Sacred, the Wild

Gathering String

Gathering String by Gay Isber 

I am a hyper-vivid dreamer – sleeping or awake. My eyes seems to shut down and I can see in my mind’s eye creations that put together items so perfectly that I just have to physically make them. Almost every morning, I wake up and can see jewelry that honestly wows me. If I don’t see them, I will wait in place, replay the last dream until I spot it. It is almost always there, just waiting or playing hide and seek. It makes me love going to sleep. In my nighttime dreams, I often see things that have never been seen before, even colors that are not really there, smells are included sometimes, sometimes I am speak in Spanish, I taste things, music is often in the background and twists and turns evolve into problem solving my latest quandary. They are so rich in texture and character that I feel like they are block buster movies. If I could somehow get tubes in my head to siphon off the visions into a monitor so that others could see what I see, I would be rich. 

My brain, while I sleep just loves: having adventures, making jewelry, entertaining me with story lines and creating arts of work. Last night, for example, I saw a new breed of glowing, sparkled bugs that hopped far away with a click and a snap when I touched them, glittering as they soared in a rainbow colored arch – they were so cool and fun and I loved how they soared and sounded. Often, I see my childhood homes but also amazingly cool designed interiors that I wish that I lived in. I see friends from years ago and hear their voices perfectly. I get to see other items that just please my soul. But every day, I see jewelry right when I go to sleep or immediately when I wake up. It is such a gift to have your days’ work laid out before you hit the coffee pot. Not every item gets made. I have many that keep coming to me over and over and they will keep appearing, until I finally make them. Currently, three items I just can’t seem to get up the ingredients to make are always there every morning, waiting patiently. I have a degree in journalism, from way back. My first love is writing – thankfully, as it has been my most used tool over the course of my adult life. In my fantasy life, I rent small, stylish homes, always with an amazing views and write for a month at a time – only to move to another location to do the same again. It really reveals my nomad tendencies. I have moved more than 20 times in my life and look forward to moving again. The gypsy magpie in me always wants me to create jewelry – shiny things and dark things. And that has somehow, mostly paid the bills. 

I am a true slave to creating things.

As a reporter “gathering string” is a term where you collect tidbits, facts, phone numbers, contacts, ideas, locations and other information that will assist in writing the story. Shortened to “string” it is much like I do to create jewels. During the day, I collect string and then at night my brain puts my string into dreams and solid formed ideas to entertain me. I prewrote this article in my dreams. The ether is so good to me – such a gift. My string includes: audible books, color combinations that excites my eyes, fossils that I find interesting, articles on nature, birds, museums, TV shows, books, Pinterest, and more. I am passionate about historical items. Flowers always excite me – (if I had a penny for every dollar that I have spent on plants I would be rich). I am just naturally curious about the world around me but 

I find travel the best for my string gathering.

I use to shy away from fashion magazine, and still kind of do. They overwhelm me if they are great. If they inspire me, I often write to the editor. I read the New York Times and sometimes just have to take in small doses of the T magazine, if it is a wonderful one. They have special editions on design that they print a few times a year that have sometimes been super inspiring. If they are great, it will overload me with excitement and it can just be too much. I will look at it until I feel my heart speed up and race. Only by closing it am I relieved. I rarely leave my studio during the day. Just ask my hubby, I can go a few weeks without peeking out my front door. I must be the creepy lady at the end of the cove that is rarely seen. I am content to just make things as fast as possible to keep my muses at happy. Thankfully, I can order the world through the Internet. It is the Internet of Things and I love those things. And string! I certainly love string! All rights reserved 2016 www.gayisber.com gayisber@gmail.com

The Nature of Science by Gay Isber. [2016]

Delve.

bold Black woman in yellow midi dress. 

Bold in the firmament of one's belief is best displayed in a form of beauty assessable to the easy part of being human. Capturing it, as a photographer, a musician, a poet, a healer, is an art form developed within the musician, the photographer, the poet, the healer and the person learning to become whole! Appreciation is a study of gratitude... - Gregory E. Woods, Keeper of Stories 4/10/18 

Cat Divine by Michael Enoches for and by Boudoir & Intimates by ME. (2017)

There is a gap here between two states of being a woman many are unable to navigate. Because the value of belief in the sacred is vague women can remain in the shadows of the art form of being feminine in essence. With the compromise made with homosexuality women, in the West, learned to equate freedom of expression with the right for men to intrude upon their distinct place in the balances of Life; not as life givers, but pretenders in a sacred role. Understanding of this has been forced to the fringes of modern life. Its exclusion feeds the disillusionment of the roles that engineered protection and balances to engage in the dance of existence as a whole, and guides the confusing violence from men towards women!

Because 'rights' are more important than truth all of these things make victims of this onslaught in American culture; many compromises have been made in the name of 'It is my right!' and unaware children waddle and wade in this confusion pretending to be the right way to be.


Gregory E. Woods, Keeper of Stories
April 10, 2018

Ceara Lynch humiliates men for a living. She started at 17.

Her dad thought she was a 'genius' when he learned how she was making money! Her words.

the Mystery thereof, within and with force...

Yasmina Rossi naked in a vast landscape in her

63rd year of Life giving forces to her being!

When you stand naked upon the Earth, our Mother in a loose and free way with land, water and the element of fire in the loins, or from the heat of the sun; a timeless reminder hits your confidence, and you release the idea of yourself into the air to fall down on the ground!... It means a lot to the soul this ritual without form, or order to moving in the winds naked, and alone surrounded by silence and those voices. - Gregory E. Woods, Keeper of Stories 4/3/18