A Born Artist
by Bill Hudson
Sarah is a giver. She is kind, at ease with people, and most importantly, she is at ease with herself. She is quiet, humble, and her smile disarms anxiety yet encourages fun. Her opinions are well formulated, introspective, different from yours, and expressed with conviction and humor which she finds in nearly all human behavior. She also loves animals and nature. She is always happy and she is happiest when working hard on projects or self-improvement.
Although respectful, she will challenge authority if she either has opposing views or she suspects fraud or entitlement. She is highly athletic and competitive, probably the consequence of being the last born into an eight-sibling sports team. She is a dreamer who will focus on singular moments so intensely that she can mentally isolate herself from all other distractions. Also intelligent and principled, you can trust her with your most valued thoughts or possessions. If you are in a conversation with Sarah, remember that her brain is not processing information like yours. She is listening and understanding but her summary of events will grab your interest with a peerless combination of humor, detail, creativity, and insight. Sarah is our youngest of eight children, the only child using her art skills professionally, and I treasure every minute we are together; for Sarah is a born artist.
"Those that don't got it, can't show it.
Those that got it, can't hide it."
Zora Neale Hurston
One evening in 1997 when Sarah was 12, our entire family was watching TV together. During commercial break, Miss Cleo, the infomercial lady psychic from Jamaica came on. Amused, we continued watching as Miss Cleo asked viewers to "call in now for a special reading." She was wearing a bright green dress with a matching beanie and she had candles burning in the background to add some element of credibility to her otherwise bogus mysticism. We were laughing while wondering who in the world would fall for this scam. Then there was a tense silence when Sarah stopped spinning the basketball on her finger and said, "I talked to her once." "You did what ... when?" we fired back. And Sarah again said that she called in one time.
We couldn't believe what we were hearing. Why hadn't we heard about this before? What really goes on in Sarah-Land? So I asked Sarah, "What was the conversation like?" "Well, it really didn't last very long," she replied. A little relieved knowing this was a pay-per-call service, I asked, "Sooo... what did you talk about?" We were all very concerned.
Sarah said, "The whole conversation went like this. I called and a lady answered."
Lady: "Hello, this is Miss Cleo. What's your name?"
Sarah: "You tell me."
Sarah was an exceptional volleyball player and earned a full-ride to Cal State University Long Beach, CSULB, on a volleyball scholarship. She used those skills with her older sister Elizabeth (who also played for CSULB) to coach younger girls on volleyball travel teams preparing for college competition.
Dreamer with Focus
When our children were all young, home, and very active in sports and dance, we frequently postponed church until the final service at 5 PM on Sunday. During one mass in mid-summer when the sun was still high and shining down through the lone sky light which is located directly above the church altar, the rays were striking the top of our Sarah's long golden hair as the entire congregation was kneeling for the consecration. It was a beautiful, solemn, holy moment and Sarah appeared singled out ... blessed with a radiant sunlit halo. Liz, who was kneeling between myself and Sarah, noticed the moment, nudged my shoulder, and nodded to proudly direct my attention toward her little sister Sarah. As we both were looking, Sarah slowly bowed her head, closed her eyes, spread her arms out, and opened her palms over the pew in front of us. Liz and I instinctively realized the magnitude of the event. Why, this was the stuff that miracles begin with and it was beginning with our eleven year old "Little Miss Sarah."
The sun's rays were now moving slowly forward illuminating my daughter's angelic face as the choir was singing. Then Sarah performed an unusual sequence of perfectly orchestrated movements that we confidently believed were heavenly guided. Her palms began to curl with the four fingers of each hand held firmly together. They curled in unison as her cupped fingers began to face almost identically curled thumbs so that each hand resembled some ancient holy crescent. And then her left-hand and right-hand crescents began to slowly approach each other inching closer and closer while repeatedly closing and opening in an ever-increasing cadence.
Sarah's head lifted slightly as her eyes opened and focused on something straight down on the empty pew seat in front of us. Liz instinctively followed Sarah's eyes; I instinctively followed Liz's lead, and together we experienced an epiphanic flash of understanding. The pew had become Sarah's "stage", the sun was her spotlight, and her hand crescents had formed two perfect shadows of Pac-Men which were now taunting each other into combat. Sarah was not in any meditative holy trance. Hell, she was a human bi-claw about to engage itself in a great shadow fight in the middle of mass. Liz gasped, turned red, and began snort-laughing while inching her way on our kneeler to quickly add distance from Sarah before the next scene commenced. But it was too late. Liz and I witnessed the Pac-Men violently collide and lock onto each other in a savage death fight for alpha Pac-Man dominance. It became a travesty for the Hudson family as several of us broke up the fight before it became a 12-rounder. We were thankful that the confrontation was only mimed and did not include the relevant sound effects as we brought Sarah back into "our" world ... the world of normal, often bored, and far-less imaginative and creative humanity.
In similar ways, Sarah often sequesters herself into that productive state that we artists call "the zone." Our family can recall our first annual Hudson Family Talent Show which was scheduled for a Sunday afternoon. On Saturday, the day before, Sarah picked up a guitar for the first time in her life and went to her room. We just assumed her act would involve the air guitar. She locked herself up, secluding the family from just her and that old, red, electric guitar which belonged to her older brother Brian. She had no music, no training, and no experience. In the hall down from her room we began to hear strumming and picking. After a few hours some of the kids said she was teaching herself the Star Spangled Banner. And sure enough, the next day as the curtain went up in our living room that Sunday afternoon, with a confident smile, Sarah plugged that guitar into my amplifier, cranked up the volume, and played a flawless version of our national anthem to begin the show. Unforgettable!
We've all watched that process repeated with oil painting. She has quietly, but determinedly, taken canvas and paints to her room and come out a day later with a finished and remarkable painting.
Sarah Eileen Hudson became Sarah Weeger in 2010 and lives with her husband Ryan in Seattle. Sarah stayed true to her aptitudes and gifts and is the sole proprietor of Great 8 Creative (
). Sarah is a graphic designer. She creates websites, logos, and advertising to help others be successful. She has done work for many companies including Starbucks, SanDisk, Kohl's, and Kellogg.
Unlike most of us artists who need recognition to affirm the value of our contributions, Sarah doesn't need or seek attention. But she has never been able to avoid it. She is happy being Sarah and bringing recognition to others through her design approach. Her unique insight has brought success to her clients and attention just seems to seek her.