ARTISTRY  OF  CANZATER!

Pamela Annette Canzater 

A Tale of Seven Counties

 

My art reflects one born in 1955 in the Colored ward of Anniston Memorial Hospital, only to be expelled (1957) from Marion, Alabama by the White Citizens Council and Klan. My family transplanted to the rapid pace and culture of New York City, where I graduated high school as a decorated Art Major. Make NOTE: straddling time, place and life, pieces of my work may have been conceived in one decade, while produced in another.

 

My art is a reflection of a child Called by God at the age of nine in a historically liberal denomination, encouraged to “use the gifts God gave me,” while girls at other churches may have been hidden away behind their parents, or future husbands. It was in this sanctuary, Corona Congregational Church, Queens, that my love of wood began. As a tiny, painfully shy child sitting in my Mothers lap beside my sister as we worshiped, watching our Daddy singing in the Chancel Choir; I'd stare at the wooden pews surrounding us, discovering the sermons of my minister, Rev. Dr. Robert D. Sherard come alive in the interlocking grains of timber.

 

I wrestled with embracing the new identity of “young newlywed” yet carrying my SELF from state to state, discovering as my ancestors did, there is a constant – praising God. I praised God in different counties as family deaths increased, as did my knowledge of an inherited lethal genetic abnormality;

Vascular Elhers-Danlos Syndrome, it comes with a life expectancy of forty/fifty-five years.

 

Walk with me, living in the place of my birth after the sudden death of my elder sister Beverly. Watch as I stand rooted in stubborn earth, crying to bluest skies, wondering if Bev might help me figure out what God would have me do, not just for me, but for all. Sigh with me, when my soul acknowledges a precious sibling conversation. For my sister told me; “Pam. You know our story, in ways I have forgotten. I want you to tell it. And you will.” One story:

Use that brush Bev, yes, those are good strokes Bunch-Crunch! Okay Boo-Boo, your turn!

Mommy stands watching to say, “Ted, when you and the girls are finished, there's a cake in the oven.”

She sings, and all join the playful tune; “Mamma little baby likes short'nin, short'nin...”

 

My art attempts to use what talents God has given me to share the stories of my family. I share some of these tales, still feeling hunted by a surrounding malevolent presence as I did more than fifty years ago. Through my art I want all people to know when enough, is enough.

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