Islands Big and Small

Folegandros, Greece

I’m an island girl. My heart flutters when an island comes into view, the crew readying the ferry

to dock where people are either greeting passengers or departing. If I travel by plane, it’s the

same feeling as we begin our descent, face pressed against the window to get a glimpse of the

island and vast sea. I love islands in general but there are few particularly close to my heart.

Folegandros, Greece; Long Island, Maine; O’ahu, Hawaii; and Greenland—the largest island in

the world. Quite a variety of terrain, culture, and climate; however, there is something about

being on an island that is so compelling to me. While islands can be a place of great beauty, the

storms inevitably come, bringing deep reckoning and few escape routes. There is a dependency

on the boat, which may or may not come if the wind is too strong, the seas too rough, and other

weather-related factors out of our control. Want a quick get-away? Even in the best of weather it

is doubtful so if you have a hard time letting go of what we don’t control on and off islands, I

suggest you venture elsewhere.

I first set foot on Folegandros 31 years ago, a confused but hopeful mother of a ten-year old

daughter and six-year-old son, desperate to find a way to be a mother, artist, and true to myself while

maintaining responsibility. Here I found a place to paint, rest, write, people who remain friends to

this day, and the kind of beauty we dream about. I returned almost annually until a seven-year lapse

from 2016 to this trip. As I wander the island, I see my younger self painting with a fervor, running

the hills, laughing with friends, missing her children and consumed by worry about how this would

all turn out. I wish I could put my arms around her, assure her it will be okay despite missteps and

what in retrospect was unnecessary struggle. I’d like to tell her I found a way to integrate a divided

life with art as the unifying force. It took a while, but I (we) made it. And now I am back on

Folegandros where I started this journey. With more wrinkles, pounds on the body, but way more

wisdom and layers of vision. I don’t control every outcome, I can’t fix the world, I’m a combination

of my best and worst self. I’ve been dealt some hard blows but I’m oh so grateful for this life, which

includes islands big and small.

I have two weeks on Folegandros before making my way to Greenland via Copenhagen. My

connection to Denmark began in 1992 with the Danish friends I made on Folegandros. I became a

frequent visitor to Copenhagen, and friends came to visit America. As a result of being in

Copenhagen so often, I made new friends separate from my original group so the circle has grown.

During a visit in the 1990s my friends took me to the Louisiana Museum to see an exhibit to

Greenlandic artists, which was my first introduction to Greenland and Danish colonizing. It made a

big impression on me that I recounted when I began to work on the Maine-Greenland Collaborations.

My friend Torgunn is from the Faroe Islands, another Danish colony, which with what I learned at

the Greenlandic exhibition was all news to me. In 2007, I invited myself to an academic conference,

Denmark and the Black Atlantic, after seeing an article in the English newspaper. I learned about

Denmark’s slave trading past, and in many ways, it was the turning point that landed me where I am

today thanks to a wonderful group of academics, artists, and community activists I met at the

conference. It led me to Ghana, Senegal, and inspired me to apply for my PhD and integrate art in

research, teaching, and community practice. We can’t always see at the time how what seems

disjointed and random is actually a path of connections, and perhaps if I may be so bold to say,

destiny.

Being on Folegandros is like slipping into a well-worn comfortable piece of clothing. The paths I

walk, beaches I swim at, the bed I sleep in, the old and dear friends I chat with for hours, as well as

warm greetings from people not in my close circle. I am remembered and welcomed. I don’t live on

an island but I am an island girl, at home in the hard-to-reach places, gliding along perimeters where

land and sea grasp each other, mindful of the ebb and flow of storms, tides, whipping wind, which is

balanced with serenity, breathtaking beauty, and enduring communities. Islands are metaphors for

life, teaching us lessons we’d rather avoid, yet offer possibility for transformation if we can hang in

there to realize storms eventually pass, strife and turbulence subside, and as I wish I could have told

my younger self, don’t worry, it will work out and you (and your children) will be okay. Truth be

told I could never have imagined how well it has, and the amazing things I am doing.

More dispatches from islands big and small to come. Follow the journey as I make my way from

Folegandros to Copenhagen, then Greenland to join the Maine-Greenland Collaborations team for

two weeks in Qassiarsuk on the fjord. Lots of adventures in store so come along!