“Sidelong, the whole evening, he watched her yellow sweater…,” a sweater that has come to symbolize a budding love, one that would produce an author and artist, a master craftsman, a woman whose reflections either through visual arts or writing expresses emotions.
Margot Wizansky’s latest published compilation of poems is titled “The Yellow Sweater.” The backstory is that Wizansky’s parents met at a life-drawing class. He was smitten as soon as she sat down beside him, the only vacant seat in the room. No doubt her feminine profile in that sweater made concentration difficult, but suffice to say without that moment there would be no Margot. Her poem of that meeting will give you a sense of Wizansky’s ability to draw the reader into very human moments, moments that changed the trajectory of two people’s journey.
The Yellow Sweater
My mother was late
to Life Drawing
the night she met my father.
The only empty space
was next to him, so she
set up her easel.
Sidelong, the whole evening,
he watched her
yellow sweater.
She drew her nude,
a line faint pink
between each toe.
His nude was verdigris.
He spent a long time
on the innuendo
of breasts.
He didn’t bother
with a face.
When Wizansky discussed the poem with her mother, many decades after that fateful meeting of two young people, she commented that she had never liked that sweater, that it was too small, uncomfortable. Yet it became the red stop sign that passion was at hand and the green go light for them to pursue it.
Wizanky has been pursuing her artistic skills her entire life. She told us that as a student in high school she was often the first one in art class or off going to the art room whenever it was open. She said she has tried her hand at stained-glass making, dressmaking, painting and, of course, writing.
Among her many achievements in poetry writing, Wizansky claims residencies in Ireland and Salt Lake City. Among her published works is the 2021 book “Wild for Life.” “The Yellow Sweater” is her first full-length published work.
One might think that a person so full to overflowing with artistic talent would have made a full career of at least one of them; we surmise writing would take the lead, and it has. But not before Wizansky became a social worker in a very long career that would find her assisting people, with a wide variety of challenges, with their housing requirements.
As for the publishing world, that’s a tough go, Wizanky commented. “You can’t take rejection personally,” she began. “If you do, you’d never write again.” She has learned the hard way and believes that writing should first and foremost be for pleasure and possibly purpose. It took 15 years for “The Yellow Sweater” to be published. “It’s a wonderful surprise when something gets accepted.”
And Wizansky has faced down that wide abyss of the unknown when she suffered a near-fatal, sudden health episode. She writes of those weeks teetering between the here and now and the forever after. Today she expresses gratitude to the first responders (Mattapoisett) and the healthcare workers at St. Luke’s who rushed her to Boston for life-saving treatment. She says things that were once negative are now ignored. She’s faced the piper.
We didn’t have the time to do a complete reading of “The Yellow Sweater,” but even the smallest of collected thoughts in evocative sentences read like sparkling chandeliers.
In her poem “My Old Friend Has Died,” we took in a very deep breath before allowing Wizanky’s words to penetrate our armor against grief. It reads in part, “Nancy held that part of who I was. She took my history when she died. I don’t know what to do with hers.” Who can relate?
Wizanky’s words sculpt out temples of longing, love lost and found, friendship, healing, and that universe-sized package — emotions. These are words and word passages well worth pondering, well worth becoming friends with.
Available at all book retailers.
By Marilou Newell