A Memorial Capsule of the Times We Spent Together. Excerpts from our Memorial Gathering.
Here are a series of video vignettes. They are witness to the cherished moments from our Ruthellen travels, programs, artistic creations, and community events. They are expressed through the deepest appreciation for all the joys, laughter, and stories we shared as friends and as family.
No Rabbi
Eric explains the absence of rabbinical traditions at the gathering.
Local Celebrity
“I remember when I visited her, I would think any store I went into, I would say, Do you know Ruthellen Pollan? I’m her son. And they say, Oh, I know Ruthellen. And everybody knew it was immediately, I was welcome.”
Her Intensity
“When she painted or when she drew, I think she became part of her paintings. I think she she wasn’t just, you know, reaching out and painting a color or a stroke, but she was she was in there and she was involved with her work.”
Eric describes the transformative nature of Ruthellen’s relationship to her work.
Tree With a View
“Of course, as the tree grows, she will see her home and she’ll see her gardens. She’ll see the scenery that she loved so much. And the land that she loved so much.”
Eric retells the planting of Ruthellen’s chosen Weeping Willow. Not a common sighting in high desert. And yet asserting its natural place in the Pollan family’s garden shrine.
Tell Us About You
“It got to the point where we were saying, “Mom, we heard about this friend and we heard about that show and we heard about this activity. Tell us about you, because she would be so intent on the work she was doing that it would just sweep by the conversation.”
Marc describes the rapid-motion sensation of phone check-ins at the breathless pace of Ruthellen’s dynamic engagements. It wasn’t easy for mom to separate herself from the depth and dimension of her many projects.
Here Comes Ruthellen
“We had scientists, we had mathematicians, we had social scientists. We had no one that was involved in art. And if I can use a stereotype for a minute, we had a whole lot of left brain people over here, and all of a sudden, bang, here comes Ruthellen.”
Dean McPherson describes right-brain dominant Ruthellen as a jolt to the system and a harbinger for creative horizons.
Native American Curriculum
“She said, Bob, I can’t just take this piece here and work. I can’t develop a thing on Eskimo art or thing on Hopi art or something. I’ve got to have the whole picture. I’ve got to have this whole big vision. Everything that that this is going to be about before I come down and worry about that.”
Bob brings us inside the collaborative give-and-take of two opposing and yet ultimately complementary approaches to curriculum design.
Click hereto see Dean McPherson’s initial remarks and praises on the mission and spirit of The Ruthellen Pollan Scholarship Fund.
Pure Love
“And so I learned that she was love. She was pure love. She would give to everybody and she would be your friend for life. All you had to do was just be yourself and she accepted you. for who you were. And I will always, always cherish that memory and cherish her love in my life.“
Kathy Collins recounts another collaboration: becoming roommates during the art program’s first overseas cultural exchange.
The Possibility
“No question about it. I was sitting in my office minding my own business. And then comes this beautiful woman from New York to take over the place. And that’s what happened.”
Another administrative testimonial to the summoning of Ruthellen’s winds of change for the better.
That Priority List
Part-time? A few classes? Sold! This bought Ruthellen the time she needed to catch her breath, and ultimately trigger an array of breath-taking changes at the college, within the community, and reflected in the grandeur of her home and gardens.
Walking the Grounds
The initial terms and conditions were humble ones. The door opened a crack and Ruthellen accepted. No one knew how little an initial acceptance factored into Ruthellen’s big picture; the longer path that she and CEU San Juan would walk down together.
The Remodeling
From a few classes part-time to a big space for containing a big splash of paints and clays. Do we see a pivot forming?
Charmed the Governor
From the first open door to a fait accompli, Ruthellen secured the funding for her program.
Beyond One’s Potential
Ruthellen helped a generation of Navajo students to reimagine the rich art and design legacy that they drew from. She challenged each of her students to shape those traditions to their own vision and aesthetic.
Tornado
“I hung on for dear life.”
Heather Young said it with clarity and her intimate truth:
“Ruthellen is the only person who sees me in a certain way.“
“When I look into her eyes, I see a reflection that I don’t see with anyone else.”
Including All of Us
A salute from Bluff on Ruthellen’s powers as a bridge and community-builder. Inclusion was not a social policy then. It was simply an extension of her virtues as an organizer.
And Who Would Want to?
Ruthellen always an obstacle remover for others. Ruthellen would go to bat for a friend when she sensed hesitation; that they were too guarded to advocate for themselves.
You Came One Summer
Rescuing the beauty that Lou had taken for granted affirms the fresh eyes that Ruthellen brought to each desert dawning for all her days in Bluff and Blanding. As Lou’s poem suggests, that revitalization held for LDS and Navajo colleagues, students, and neighbors alike.
She Became My Family
Paula addresses the outsider loneliness that Ruthellen dispelled with her far and wide embrace of family.
(Bottom row) Robert Pollan flanked by the two Grego brothers. (Top Row L-R) Stephen Pollan, Robert’s assistant, Marc Solomon, Paula Dejoshua, Eric Solomon, Carol Solomon, and Tony Grego.
The Greatest Gift
Acceptance. Appreciation. Love Of people. It sounds so simple. And yet we’re always on the verge of running low on these precious qualities that Ruthellen shared with us.
You Left One Summer
Ruthellen’s bold and sweeping embrace of Blanding’s natural beauty is witnessed anew through Lou’s declarative affirmations. Read Lou’s poem here.
