Maria’s “Yes, No,” dress lives outside of her studio on a hangar, it sits in the sun, rain and wind, a part of the elements. It was one of the first things she made when we first got together, it hung at an art show at Gardenworks in Salem, N.Y., that she and I put on together to encourage new artists. I showed my photographs for the first time, Mary Kellogg read her poetry for the first time, and a young artist named Anthony Armstrong showed his sculptures.

It was our first coming together, Maria and I, the first thing we did together, the beginning of our ambition to encourage the creative spirit in people. I have not been in touch with Anthony for some years, Mary is still writing her poetry and I am writing my blog and books and taking pictures, Maria has blossomed as a new kind of fiber artist, a descent of the Gee’s Bend philosophy of personal art with discarded materials.

The “Yes, No,” dress captured Maria’s spirit at the time, it’s dual message was pretty clear: stay away, I am not sure. About men. About me. About art. Maria had not been doing her art for years, that made her miserable. When I gave her one of the Bedlam Farm barns, she was suddenly happy, radiant.  She was an artist again. Maria was closed up then, cautious, fearful. She wanted to say yes, she often said no.

The dress was one of the first creations to emerge. It suggested distance and uncertainty, and studded nails if anyone got too close.

I got close, and I did not get stabbed or bleed, but it took a lot of chocolate and cheese and popcorn over many months. I put a note on Maria’s car windshield, it said “I will wait for you, no obligation.” She went home and ate it.

it has been a privilege to see this proud and strong spirit emerge and the liberated artist emerge and flower. Art is Maria’s soul, it has brought her to life. And to love.

For some reason, the “Yes, No” dress never frightened or discouraged me, Maria I have always seen beyond the surface appearance of each other and into the soul.  We knew one another’ss true self from the beginning, the craziness was just a sideshow. Her ambivalence and wariness is a part of her still, but around it a person of sweetness, openness and strength. A person of “Yes.” If she had a “Yes, No,” dress, she is no longer a “Yes, No,” person. She has said yes to art. To love. To me. To friends. To life.

It is interesting that she always keeps this dress nearby, she sees it every day, it sits like a sentinel outside of her studio. I love it, she says, it is a great piece of art and “it keeps me from ever forgetting who I used to be.”

Me too.