Art Inspired by Laura

Laura’s artwork framed by Lily Ruderman
Drawing by Lynette Lavigne
Birdhouse in her old neighborhood–Izzy Kornblatt
Painted Rock- – Leah Visconti
Painting by Leah Visconti
A friend’s tattoo in Laura’s handwriting
“Laura used to write these letters on her hand, and I wanted to remember her by tattooing this in her memory. She will be with me always.” -Kate Parks
Words added to the Brooklyn Bridge — Kate Parks

Messages from Laura

Laura sends a loving and uplifting message at the theater to “future techies!”
Messages left by Laura for her theater teachers
Needs no explanation!

Photos of Laura

Poetry Inspired by Laura

Alaska

I. 

If you were a bird, your feathers would be ebony.

You would fly through the trees

dodging branches and leaves.

You would fly up towards the clouds,

wings carrying you on a whimsy

until you found a place to perch.

If you were a book, you would be more than just a story.

Someone wrote adventures and secrets in your pages

in ebony ink that never fades from the eye.

One page is plastered with pressed four leaf clovers.

The pages are uneven and wrinkled,

they had coffee spilled on them a few times

as all the best things have.

II. 

When you are a bird, your feathers will be ebony.

Your wings will be strong, and carry you without fault.

Your song will be heard from miles around:

a melody to enchant in tones all your own.

You need no branch to land on, 

and you can sail through a hurricane’s gale.

When you are a book, you will be more than just a story.

From every page in that ebony binding,

your name will flourish: powerful and evocative

of someone who’s storms were fierce,

but who’s sun shone brighter

than any cloud could quell.

– Laura McCullagh

“We recently sold my little old car and with it went a lot of memories. I thought I would share this poem I wrote about the car, about Alaska, and about spaces where we feel love”

That car was the last place I saw you. 

That little green car was where we would listen to music while I drove you home

And we would avoid all of our responsibilities

to sit and avoid talking about our problems. 

That last drive was when you sat behind the drivers seat

And placed a hand on my shoulder. 

You showed your love through hugs and laughter and gentle hands,

Notes, drawings, and inside jokes. 

That car wasn’t any of those things, but it held them all. 

So when it went, so did the last place I saw you. 

So did the place we would avoid our problems,

Dancing around talking about the weight on both of our minds. 

The place where you reached up from the back seat to put your hand on my shoulder. 

If I had known that would be the last time you would ever be in my car,

If I had known that that 10 minute drive

Held the weight that it does,

I would cut the brake line so we had no choice but to keep going. 

I would hit the gas so you had no choice but to stay in that seat and on this earth. 

I would drive from Massachusetts to Florida by way of Alaska 

and then find another excuse to keep going. 

In my new car, the upholstery is darker,

There is no stain on the seat where I spilled a blueberry pie. 

It has a remote button to unlock, 

And the passenger side lock never sticks,

So I never have to lean over to let anyone in. 

I was driving my friends somewhere

I can’t remember where we were going. 

We had the windows down 

And the music loud. 

The wind had blown my hair around 

And it was getting stuck in my lipstick. 

We came to a stoplight and the wind died down,

Pulling up beside a red SUV. 

The person behind me reached up

And placed a gentle hand on my shoulder

– Laura McCullagh