Journey to Freedom
Everything I do in my life, it seems, has to do with storytelling.
I suppose there’s no surprise in this since it is my belief that all humans are innately drawn to telling tales—tall as well as true. It’s the human way to make sense out ofwhat happens in life from the good to the bad, and everything in-between. It’s how we inspire and motivate others, how we survive and thrive as well as dominate and destroy.
Journey to Freedom is my story. Sometimes the telling is egocentric, sometimes it is how others inspire me. Always it is about relationship, whether it is self to Self, self to others, self to Universe, or others to others.
However, there is an undercurrent to my story—the struggle for freedom—emotional, financial, expressive.
The exploration of freedom as a state of being is a lifelong endeavor for me as it is for the human race. Truth be told, I really never would have thought about this had I not experienced heightened forms of freedom’s antitheses—violence, victimization, worthlessness, despair. I sum these all up in a single word: imprisonment.
Imprisonment began for me at the tender age of 5 out of the tragically common human experience of sexual abuse by a trusted adult. In my case, that adult was my father. Even though I somehow ended his sexual attacks just days after they began, he became my jailer and I fitted my prison cell with the rigid bars of isolation and secret keeping.
addicted to alcohol, drugs and sex, peppered with domestic violence, all kept in place with the ironclad walls of poverty. We all, in turn, took our rage out on each other. Few days passed between the ages of 8 and 12 when I did not have a fistfight, or found myself outrunning bullies armed with knives. I felt like an outsider, alone, vulnerable, uncared for. I thought it was my duty to be strong, to protect and defend myself, as well as others who needed protection—the younger and the weaker, especially the victims of my father, for I also found out he was sexually abusing other young girls.
Somewhere in the middle of my 12th year on earth, the American Indian Movement occupied the place where we lived (a famous historical site in South Dakota called Wounded Knee). They took my family and I hostage, humiliating and terrorizing us.
My sense of being a prisoner became complete. I knew then I truly had no voice and no representation in life. I could protect no one, not my mother, my pets, my friends, and certainly not myself.
My every attempt to break out met resistance from others and myself. Giving up my dreams became a twisted form of survival—my dreams became my personal crown of thorns—too painful for extended wear, yet I would never be free of it and lived with despair hidden just below the surface of my life.
All this, and more, remain with me, even to this day.
I no longer want to be imprisoned. Even though I see the prison for what it is (my own construction) I cannot seem to stay outside those walls for very long. My prison is somehow comfortable-it serves a vital purpose in keeping my identity alive-and honestly, I have led a full and intriguing life because of it.
But my life has remained unfulfilled-partially anyway...I have drunk deeply of the powerful elixir of my relationships–I count myself among the most fortunate to be so well loved and to love so well. I am blessed with talent and in pursuing my talents; art, writing, leading others to power through transforming their own stories; I have tasted bits of freedom. Freedom has shown up in unexpected–and expected–ways. By contributing to others I have the power to shift the context and output of my life. I say to the people in my communities: who I am is an artist whose work makes a profound difference in life. Here I keep my focus. Here is where on those mornings when I awake to the thorny crown, I am able to progress through my day by transforming it into a fragrant and beautiful ring of flowers adorning my head.
Journey to Freedom is a way for me to process the experiences and stories I have of life. It is my testament to the power of art. The power of intention. The power of free will. The power of a commitment to thrive. It is meant to reveal my tender underbelly, dissolving the bars of my solitary confinement.
One Final Note of Gratitude and Thanks
Many mornings I wake with two questions on my mind: Who am I? And what is the value of my life? The truth is I have no concrete answers for either question, except those arising from my past experiences.
But I have noticed in my family, with friends and the people I meet, the answers I manufacture about my own worthlessness have no affect on their opinion of my worth. To them I bring a multitude of experiences andcontributions and there is no question of my worth. To them I am who they see in the moment and I am of great value. So it is through them I listen for the answers I hold in the deepest part of myself...I am me, I am precious, I belong.
I thank my children, former husband and my mother for loving me, loving me, loving me from each day to the next. To my closest girl friends I say “Bravo my Divine Divas, you are the light that guides me to celebrating my voluptuous self!” To all my other friends–men, women, boys and girls–my deepest gratitude for enticing me onto the playground to be part of this intriguing game of hide-and-seek. “...99,100. Ollie, ollie, oxen free!”
With Love,
A.
Dreams / Nightmares (assemblage on canvas) | Image: 20" x 16", Framed: 21.5" x 17.5" x 1.5"
Ex-con: Stigma | Image: 20" x 16", Framed: 21.5" x 17.5" x 1.5"
Who We Are (glitter glue on canvas) | Image: 20" x 16" | Framed: 21.5" x 17.5" x 1.5"
Tear (3D assemblage) represents the emotions and challenge of a woman living behindbars, struggling to see the treasures that lay within her own walls of imprisonment- a woman willing to look beyond shame and guilt to create from inside herself, freedomand bountiful self-worth. When you peer inside this box you will see the magnificationof that bounty, resulting from tears she shed in sorrow and in joy...
Map of a [Con’s][Your][My] Life (2-piece assemblage on wood and canvas). Each life follows a particular path, unique to one’s point-of-view, and yet similar to all other lives lived. The Legend tells this story: A - life as a child, carefree until something happens and the child begins to build a barrier B - growing into a young adult the barrier growing more opaque as her reaction to the circumstance of life becomes more out of control C - Marriage, and a commitment to the future, still living on a precarious edge, although now not alone D - Incarceration, the woman hidden well beneath the barrier E - Release, both emotionally by recreating herself inside of the prison’s transformative programs, and literally when her time is up and she’s released back into the world. In each of the box stages, if you look inside, you see a small diamond in everybox...representing the beloved treasure within.
4 Reasons Why (collage on canvas)Image: 20" x 16", Framed: 21.5" x 17.5" x 1.5"
4 Reasons Why describes the inspiration behind the work I do with Empty & Meaningless: the Box Project, and living fully into my dream of being an artist whose work creates a clearing for forgiveness, healing, love and empowerment.The wire outlines are those of my two children, myself and my former husband- they represent the community of men, women and children who support my own transformation through their love and “listening” of me. Thank you dear ones...you are the soul of my work.
Lost: The Money Conversation (collage on canvas) | Image: 36" x 24", Framed: 37.5" x 25.5" x 1.5"
Mr. & Mrs. Fritze (assemblage) | 5’ x 2’ x 18”
Love. It starts at home.
My parents had at one time I imagine, a loving relationship, however short-lived. My father kept his illness, his pedophilia, a secret from my mother. Mom didn’t understand the breakdown of their marriage, she assumed there was something she must be doing wrong, some way she could fix it for her kids. But in our home, Dad was the only authority—intimidating, manipulative, controlling and coersive.
My Mom, I think, was an artist at heart. She set aside her art when she had my brother and I, whom she loved beyond reason. I have always felt the choice to give up her art was tragic, especially when she learned of the real reason her marriage was so painful and a sham.
In the same way my father took our voices from my brother and I—he had muffled, and strangled, our mother’s voice before us.
Risked My Life (collage on canvas) | Image and Frame: 17.5" x 21.5" x 1.5"
In my presentation “Living a Made Up Life” I talk about my father risking my life, the American Indian Movement risking my life and in the end my taking over that task and risking my own life in their stead. The message of the presentation was best set in a challenge: Inherit their old script (for life), or write my own.
Cacophony (assemblage on canvas) | Image + Frame: 17.5" x 13.5" x 1.5"
Plastic Christmas ornament from the 60s. A burned out headlight lamp I changed by myself. A copper dollar Mom received in the Reader’s Digest sweepstakes mail in the 70s. A suitcase key to my very first suitcase. Costume jewelry worn by Grandma Ruby. A 50 year breadcrumb trail leading to today—something more than memories, not yet a complete life. Gotta keep packing it in...
BLUE: Spirit
a poem by Adrienne Fritze - All Rights Reserved.
Jewel hidden deep
Charcoal grey, rock walls,
Chipped like the arrowheads of my ancestors
A misty gauzy shroud blows
In the wind
A wise, innocent, wise child stands guard
At the mouth
Her magic veiling my eyes
Your eyes
My eyes
Your eyes
She sees time
Passing
Passing
Passing
Waiting for the moment
The moment of
The moment of integration
Child
Teen
Adult
Fused
Fused into one
Wise, innocent, wise child steps into my skin
The teenager controlling my brain expands like a balloon
Down
Down
Down into the body
I discarded
40 years ago.
Down into the body
I neglected
Neglected
Neglected to see she was waiting
Wise child
Waiting
For the reawakening
My throat opens
The voice that emerges is
Clear
Beautiful
Keeping time with the
Beating of my
Heart
Ba-dum
Ba-dum
Ba-dum
Signing a beautiful
Loving
Lullaby
The shroud from the cave
Floats to my
45 year old body
And covers it
Covers all that is contained in it
The ages
The spirits
Protection gifted from the universe
Flowing from the brush
The pen
The keyboard
The mind
The mouth
The hands
The eyes
Seeing
Hearing
Tasting
Touching
As one
Awareness unfolds
I am
The crust of the earth
The water that flows upon the surface
I am the seed
The flower
The wind
The slipping of the continents
One against the other
I am the volcano
The coral
The elephant and the gnat
I am gravity
Pulling inward
Inward
Inward
So deeply inward that I find myself
Outside
The atmosphere
Hurtling toward the rest of the galaxy
The universe
I am the sun
The stars
I am all that I am
And was ever meant
To be
I am blue
Blue (my favorite color)
Blue (my favorite sound)
I am blue
I am free.
I am me.
I am you.
a poem by Adrienne Fritze - All Rights Reserved.
Jewel hidden deep
Charcoal grey, rock walls,
Chipped like the arrowheads of my ancestors
A misty gauzy shroud blows
In the wind
A wise, innocent, wise child stands guard
At the mouth
Her magic veiling my eyes
Your eyes
My eyes
Your eyes
She sees time
Passing
Passing
Passing
Waiting for the moment
The moment of
The moment of integration
Child
Teen
Adult
Fused
Fused into one
Wise, innocent, wise child steps into my skin
The teenager controlling my brain expands like a balloon
Down
Down
Down into the body
I discarded
40 years ago.
Down into the body
I neglected
Neglected
Neglected to see she was waiting
Wise child
Waiting
For the reawakening
My throat opens
The voice that emerges is
Clear
Beautiful
Keeping time with the
Beating of my
Heart
Ba-dum
Ba-dum
Ba-dum
Signing a beautiful
Loving
Lullaby
The shroud from the cave
Floats to my
45 year old body
And covers it
Covers all that is contained in it
The ages
The spirits
Protection gifted from the universe
Flowing from the brush
The pen
The keyboard
The mind
The mouth
The hands
The eyes
Seeing
Hearing
Tasting
Touching
As one
Awareness unfolds
I am
The crust of the earth
The water that flows upon the surface
I am the seed
The flower
The wind
The slipping of the continents
One against the other
I am the volcano
The coral
The elephant and the gnat
I am gravity
Pulling inward
Inward
Inward
So deeply inward that I find myself
Outside
The atmosphere
Hurtling toward the rest of the galaxy
The universe
I am the sun
The stars
I am all that I am
And was ever meant
To be
I am blue
Blue (my favorite color)
Blue (my favorite sound)
I am blue
I am free.
I am me.
I am you.
