I Will Offer Virtual Creative Writing Classes This Summer

 

Year of the Fire Horse The Lunar New Year Party at Fountain House

 

Fountain House Celebrates the Lunar New Year in Style!: The Research and Communications Unit Join Together to Enjoy the Holiday!

 

By Elizabeth Levine

Did you know we are in the Year of the Fire Horse? Do you know what that might mean for you? According to FH Communications member, Barry this is the year to push through and experience transformation. He explained, “Last Year was the Year of the Snake and the shedding of your skin- the behaviors or routines that no longer serve you well. But this year, when we combine the Year of the Horse, with the fire element, we are faced with the opportunity for intense passion and rapid transformations and living your dreams.”

This is one of the many interesting facts I learned about the Lunar Year when on Friday, February 20^th, the Communications and Research Units threw a joint Lunar New Year party at Fountain House. Staff and members feasted on Chinese delicacies- rice crackers, lychees, Chinese hard candies in a myriad of flavors. The tables were adorned in red and gold tablecloths and the red paper plates had dragons in their designs. We played Lunar New Year jeopardy with three columns 1. History 2. Customs 3. Cultural Symbols and Decorations

As a member of the Communications Unit I am proud to report that the Communications team, comprised of members like Safi, Elizabeth, Noni and others, triumphed over the Research Unit in this fun but competitive round of Jeopardy. But both teams learned interesting facts about the Chinese New Year,

              For example, did you know that firecrackers are used for the Lunar New Year to ward off evil spirits? That the Peony, my favorite flower, is actually the Chinese flower of prosperity]. Or did you know that the Chinese avoid the colors Black and White during the Lunar New Year to avoid bad luck? Red envelopes with coins are dispersed for good luck for the Chinese New Year, which is also known as the Spring Festival. After today’s blizzard, I think the entire FH community is ready for Spring.

I found myself seated next to Lawrence Applebaum and Saverio Penza, a FH Gallery artist renowned for his handmade ceramics on display at the FH Gallery, his photographs, which often appear in the Fountain Pen, and his help with layout and design of the Fountain Times. He told me “I was blessed to find Fountain House.” Many FH members, including myself, concur with this sentiment! Festive members from both units who enjoyed the party and the Chinese treats. Connor, our Communications archivist, and Matt from the Research Unit, helped with the decorations-two beautiful red papier-mache dragon heads

While Matt constructed the dragons, it was Noni from Communications who adorned the cardboard figures with beautiful red fabric, creating the perfect décor for our Lunar New Year Party. Many participants came dressed in red in honor of the holiday.

Many members and staff carried the spirit of the Lunar New Year Party into their weekend. Noelle from the Communications Unit found herself drawn to Chinatown, where she enjoyed watching senior citizens play board games and practice Tai Chi in groups. “There was such a sense of community. I was thinking of Mae and her energy as I watched people interact.” Since one of the FH goals/principles is to reduce social isolation for members living with mental illness, what better way to create community than by throwing a party, making decorations, combining units for cross-socialization, and learning more about a holiday that we as Westerners might not have known much about?

Like all FH parties, I left with great enthusiasm and relief to know that the Year of the Snake is behind us and that the Year of the Fire Horse has officially begun! Maybe it is because I am the Year of the Dragon, but the combination of Fire (from the four elements) with the Year of the Horse, seemed especially fortuitous.

For example, The Year of the Fire Horse raises some profound questions for introspection. What are your dreams or intentions for this upcoming year What is your intense passion? What do you need to live your dreams and “push through” to make sure these dreams are realized? For me, as I retire this month after 40 years in the non-profit sector, first in public health and then as a college professor, this is a year of incredible change and adjustment. But I believe it is change for the better. Now that I am not working full-time at a job I hated, I can spend more time at Fountain House, become more involved with the Gallery and Studio, learn to make floral arrangements, soap, and candles in the Home and Garden Unit and devote myself exclusively to publishing my novel, “All That Remains”, which I have been working on for the past five years. Through a generous Fountain House educational scholarship, I worked with Alexander Scott Hess, a Gotham Writers' Workshop-published author, to review my manuscript and guide me through the long, difficult process of submitting my manuscript to small LGBTQ+ independent presses, with the hope of finding a literary agent. Many is the day I want to throw my hands up in the air and say it is too difficult, I am too old, people don’t read books anymore, the publishing industry is changing so rapidly, I can’t keep up,  and give up on my dreams to publish my fiction for others to read. As a published poet, this shift to writing fiction poses new artistic challenges. Perhaps I am shedding my skin as only a poet at the end of the Year of the Snake, and undergoing a “rapid transformation” into the kingdom of fiction. The one thing I can say for sure is that I approach this year with intense passion and the desire to become more involved with the myriad programs offered by Fountain House, including the Silver Center.

 

Samsara 2025: Interview with Mark Dendy, Fountain House Gallery Artist

 

Portrait of an Artist: The Buddha and His Many Incarnations

A Conversation with Mark Dendy

By Elizabeth Levine

When I first met artist and performer Mark Dendy, it was in his natural habitat: the bright, buzzing space of Fountain House Gallery during our annual Small Works Festival. We were two strangers drawn together by a painting—one of those serendipitous encounters that happen when art opens a door. Mark, surrounded by color and possibility, radiated the kind of curiosity and generosity that instantly signals here is someone who lives deeply in his work.

Mark has been a member of Fountain House for approximately three years;  his connection to the Gallery began with a referral from his therapist, who suggested Mark join the FH Studio when she learned Mark was an artist.  Since appearing in his first FH Exhibit in September of 2024, Mark has become one of the Gallery’s most prolific contributors and his paintings, listed in parenthesis have appeared in the following FH exhibitions Inside My Mind, (Brain Freeze), Biff! Bam! Pow! (Fascism Is the New Kryptonite,) Life’s a Party (The Soiree) Reinvention, (Circular Field) and the Gallery’s 25th Anniversary Exhibition (The Parlour). In just over two years, he has participated in seven shows and sold more than sixteen original works. I am the proud owner of one of them—Samsara (2025), a gift for my son Jake that continues to reveal new layers of meaning.

A Practice Rooted in Mindfulness

Mindfulness is one of the pervasive threads that runs through Mark’s work. “I am a secular Buddhist,” he told me. “I follow the philosophy, not the religion. Buddha is one of my heroes. In Buddhism, Samsara refers to the totality of human experience—joy and suffering, hatred/compassion, ignorance/wisdom, war and peace, light and shadow. It’s accepting the bad with the good, doing the best we can to live a productive, meaningful, compassionate life.”

His piece Samsara 2025 embodies this worldview. Built from photographs he shot in Times Square—“the epitome of Samsara”—the work layers digital collage with hand‑painted elements using a giclée technique. “I did this intuitively, not realizing there was a formal art movement in the 1970s using similar methods.” Mark explained

A Multidisciplinary Artist with numerous and diverse creative accomplishments

Mark’s artistic journey began long before he picked up a paintbrush. An OBIE and Bessie Award–winning choreographer, playwright, and performer, he spent forty years shaping avant‑garde theater, dance, opera, and film. His film The Age of Anxiety screened at thirty‑five international festivals. But the pandemic shifted his priorities. “I realized I couldn’t maintain that level of involvement, especially the fundraising,” he said. “I wanted something different—a solitary artistic practice.” Visual art became that sanctuary.

A Childlike Curiosity in His Approach to Creating Unique Works of Art

“When I first started drawing, the instructor told us to draw like we did as children. So, I would close my eyes, switch hands, let the line go crooked. It wasn’t about the finished product. It was about freedom.” That freedom is evident in works like Ladybug Dance, created during an animal‑themed session at the Fountain House Silver Center. “I closed my eyes and kept making dots,” Mark laughed. “I do these chance but controlled experiments.”

A Volunteer, Advocate, and Community Builder

Mark’s presence at Fountain House extends far beyond his artwork. He volunteers regularly—at the Fountain House Gallery and participates in weekly workshops. At least once a month he works at the Gallery and loves meeting people so that visitors can better understand their art.  This commitment is both artistic and communal. “I enjoy working in a group,” he said. “There are so many wonderfully talented and dedicated artists in the community. They inspire me and keep me on my toes.” Equally of note is his upcoming participation in a joint venture with Bethlem Gallery in the United Kingdom and will contribute to this exhibition in early spring, 2026.

A Fluid, Expansive Art Practice that Incorporates The Political

Art is not just a craft for Mark—it is a stabilizing force. Along with his two beloved dogs, Ruby and Margot, Mark finds peace and healing in the creative process, incorporating the sinister realities of the current state with the world with beautiful, colorful images of the Buddha-contrasting the lightness of mindfulness with the darkness of the political climate. Certain works are deliberately political in nature. For example, Mark singled out one of his paintings in the Small Works exhibit “Boy KISS Boy”, explaining that he felt this image was important in a moment in history when LGBTQ rights are under attack.

The Many Incarnations of Mark Dendy

Created in an atmosphere of play and inquiry, Mark Dendy's process is an investigation into story and color - loaded with psychological imagery. Their work is infused with theatricality and movement where social commentary lurks just beneath the surface. Juxtaposing multiple styles, mediums and perspectives; abstraction, neo surrealism and pop art meet in a neon lit alley. For Mark Dendy is an artist of movement—whether onstage, on canvas, or in the digital realm. His work is theatrical, political, spiritual, and deeply human. It is shaped by mindfulness, animated by play, and grounded in a lifetime of creative exploration.

In his hands, art becomes a form of enlightenment—not a destination, but a journey through every shade of experience. A neon‑lit alley where the Buddha meets pop culture, memory, and the childlike joy of making marks in the dark.

 

I am offering tutoring services- English, French and Spanish

 

Poetry of Grief- Jerusalem Post

 “The Poetry of Grief”

By Elizabeth Levine, M.A., M.P.H, M.F.A.

 

 

 

It is said that there is nothing worse than losing a child. This I know is true. My daughter Charlotte died on January 3, 2009, for no medical reason. No medical reason. When I rise in the morning and open my eyes to the flat grey of a winter’s day, these are the first words I hear. When I fall asleep at night, it is her face that flashes before my eyes before they shut.

What then to do with all this grief? For me, the answer came from writing both poetry and creative non-fiction. I would stay awake all night, night after night, after she died and write and write and write, because when I went to bed at night I would hear her cry.

For poets, we have long known the therapeutic value of writing to heal trauma and we often say, “Writing our way back home.” Research conducted by Dr. James W. Pennebaker, PH.D. at the University of Texas at Austin’s Psychology Department in his book Writing to Heal: A Guided Journal has proven empirically that writing about trauma and emotional upheaval improves health outcomes and helps patients recover from traumatic events.

But for many writers who have lost children, we already knew that expressive writing was therapeutic. In particular, the Poet, New York University Professor and Guggenheim Foundation staff member Edward Hirsch has transcended grief in his book of poems, Gabriel, “in which a short life, a bewildering death ,and the unanswerable sorrow of a father come together in such a sustained elegy. This unabashed sequence speaks directly from Hirsch’s heart to our own, without sentimentality. From its opening lines-“The funeral director opened the coffin/And there he was alone/From the waist up”- Hirsch’s account is poignantly direct and open to the strange vicissitudes and tricks of grief.”

http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2014/08/04/finding-words

As an English Professor at William Paterson University and Montclair State University, I always teach my students two of his poems, “Execution” and an excerpt from Gabriel, page 73

I had the personal good fortune to study with Edward Hirsch at the Distinguished Poetry Series on October 3, 2015 at the Poetry Center of Passaic County Community College, www.poetrycenterpccc.cpm, which is directed by the renowned poet and champion of Poetry and the Arts, Director Maria Mazziotti Gillian, www.mariagillan.com, whom I have also had the honor of studying with.

We spoke briefly in the dim lighting of the Hamilton House, where the mood outside the airy classroom is lugubrious, as though so much sorrow and so many poets have written there about their own losses and their own healing.

In fact, Hirsch and I exchange hugs and he inscribes in my copy of Gabriel: A Poem “ For Elizabeth, with a shared sense of grief. May poetry help us.” For Hirsch, myself and countless others, writing poetry allows us to “enter the broad stream of human grief and raise in us the strange hope, even consolation, that we find in the writer’s act of witnessing and transformation.

Some nights, I dream of Charlotte, of Gabriel, of Edward Hirsch and I holding hands as if we were lovers for many decades, bound by the same grief; I dream of Brooklyn, where I was born and where Hirsch lives, and I think of the primal need to go home, to a place and time before our children died, where we once were happy and innocent and knew not what the future had in store for us. In other words, I dream of writing my way back home.

 

For those of you who are interested in the therapeutic value of writing, I encourage you to subscribe to my online newsletter “The Writer’s Rant” at https://paper.li/f-1453218661#/ or facebook/thewritersrant

 

Empowerment: Witing Our Way Back Home

 I am a sixty-two year-old trilingual poet and author living with disabilities. My novel "All That Remains" deals with issues of trauma and resiliency, as does much of my poetry. Most of my poetry addresses themes of mental illness, substance abuse and grief/bereavement, following the death of my daughter Charlotte Clear. I use her name as a pseudonym because in Judaism, we say, "May her memory be for blessing, and I do not want her name to be forgotten or erased. She died for no medical reason, which made the grieving process more protracted and painful.

I returned to creative writing following her death, no longer capable or, perhaps, more accurately, willing to continue my career as the author of scientific technical writing as the Founder and Executive Director of ECQ Group, Inc., a small minority non-profit consulting firm specializing in public health. Instead of writing grants for millions of dollars to protect the most vulnerable and fragile of our populations, such as people living with HIV/AIDS, the mentally ill/homeless/, inmates, undocumented immigrants and LGBTQ clients, I found myself entering the fragmented, dysfunctional and woefully inadequate mental health service industry, now as a client of services, rather than a provider or funder of such social service safety-net services.

Speaking from, own personal and professional experience, anti-depressants, therapy, grief counseling, outpatient trauma therapy and one voluntary inpatient hospitalization did more harm than good in my journey back to wellness. On the contrary, it was the therapeutic exercise of writing my way back home that produced my strongest work. To that end, I am working on a curricula "Poetry as Sanctuary" in which I combine my M.P.H. and M.F.A. degrees to reach traumatized populations across multiple modalities, but with a primary focus of bereaved parents and siblings. It is my sincere and profound belief that it is in telling our stories and our losses and our struggles, we empower ourselves. "Empowerment" has become a word that has left a bitter taste in my mouth; no matter how well-intentioned service providers and therapists might be, survivors, in company with one another, are truly the only individuals capable of "empowerment". Through writing, we empower ourselves, moving from the darkness back into the light.

 

Point of View- "Gay Geography"

 Point of View- Gay Geography

My editor advises me that the reader needs more information about the narrator, her intentions, and what drives her into the company of gay men. I cringe. To me, it is painfully obvious why Eliza doesn’t like straight men. I am Eliza.

I resent his suggestion that I dig deeper into my subconscious to better articulate why I feel safer in a gay environment than a straight one. For me, this is a therapeutic issue, not a character development problem. Although he tells me the writing is beautiful, he wants more information. Why do I always feel that people ask of me more than I am willing or able to give? Whatever setting, dialogue, scene, character development, or narrative arc, so obvious to me, as the writer, is unclear to the reader.

Know your audience. In my first novella, “Gay Geography”, my audience is the large tent of LGBTQ readers and straight readers who are intimately familiar with gay life. Perhaps they have a sibling, a parent, a child who is queer. Perhaps they are queer and have not made peace with it, or are simply too young or too repressed to know who they are in the world, whether that be straight or gay. In the end, the only thing that matters is that my audience is familiar with and respectful of gay life, because that is the world I grew up in, that is where I feel most myself, and therefore, most at home.

Still, I have paid for his critique, and I need to at least appear willing to consider his suggestions, when what I really feel is irritation. He is a gay man; he of all people should understand why a fag hag is an integral member of any gay family and deserves her place at the table. I resent defending my right to sit down at the kitchen table in Rehoboth Beach, surrounded by my five gay roommates. I earned my place at that table, and I belong there. Why do I have to delve into Eliza, the narrator’s motivation to eat at that table?

I go through the pretense of being open- minded to his editorial critique. He suggests I change the POV from third person to first person singular, the standard pronoun of all memoirs. I explain that the manuscript was originally memoir, but to protect my family’s privacy, I have spent an entire year manually changing and double-checking every pronoun and fictionalizing the story. So, that suggestion is a rule out. Then he compliments me on the writing and how poetic it is. I explain that I am a published poet. Then he dares to suggest I rewrite it as a prose poem- a form of poetry I dislike. So that, too, is a rule out. His last suggestion I take begrudgingly, and I write a two-page single- spaced explanation of why Eliza loves her gay family and avoids straight men whenever possible. To be responsive to his advice, I painstakingly take that 2-page synopsis and change just those two pages from third person singular to I. And when I re-read that explanation, shifted to the pronoun I, then and only then, do I remember to cry.