the way you need to be loved

the way you need to be loved

Sep 12, 2014

one slow stitch at a time...


untitled (i want to hold your face in my hands)
filet crochet curtain
angela simione, 2014

i need a much taller window.  :)

the full text reads: i want to hold your face in my hands but you go on backing away away away.  the text is from a poem i wrote over a year ago that will probably never see the light of day, save for this excerpt.  and i like that...  the secrecy of it...  which is very much what this work is about. i like the idea of hanging my secrets in the window, allowing the light of day to use the twists and turns of my private thoughts (and the hook that has given them shape) to make shadows sigh and heave on the adjacent wall.  i like the tease of it.

this piece taught me a lot.  it's still teaching me.  not merely about the method of production and where i failed and where i succeeded in using it, but also how i want to use light and shadow as materials themselves...  transparency...  absence and presence.  in this regard, this method is very much like drawing.  the emptiness of the page is just as important as the mark.  it's poetry.  the things that aren't said add weight to what is.

it's hung up in the window of my bed and i stare at it for a little while every day.  i finished it over a week ago and i'm still so bowled over by it.  it's a new "first step".


Sep 11, 2014

9 for a lost god and 10 10 10 10 is for everything everything everything



writer problems


i need to start over, perhaps. 

i need a different set of rules (or maybe no rules at all) when it comes to this place, when it comes to words on a page, when it comes to reaching out to other human beings through these electronic waves.

i've had this little sandbox of mine for so long, this blog. the last few months it's become increasingly hard to write here and i'm not sure why.  i want to write here.  i miss having a daily love affair with my blog and want to rekindle my fervor. walking home from the grocery store this evening, i agonized over why it's been so hard for me to come here, to type out the words...  and i think it's because i'm judging the whole enterprise by what this blog has been and not allowing for what it could be.  i'm not allowing for change and so it's become stagnant.

maybe i needed a break for awhile too.  maybe i needed to step away from the out-pour.  maybe i needed a bit of privacy.  everyone needs to curl up under the covers some times and just hide from life.  i'm no different.  perhaps that's all i've really been doing by not writing here: claiming a space of silence for myself, allowing myself a deep, abiding privacy and quietude.

some explorations are necessarily made under lock and key, away from the eyes and ears of the world, in total darkness, in total silence, under the sheets, without words, without record, without apology.  i've largely enjoyed my silence. still, it isn't me to not write.  it is such a huge part of who i am and how i live.  there is the diary, yes, and there always will be but the writing i do there is entirely different from what lands in public spaces.  a different impulse is responsible for bringing me to this electric square of light and a different urge is satisfied when i type.  a different demon is exorcised when i publish my thoughts here. 

i need to just let this space evolve.  evolve or die.  the strictures must be chopped away and i need to hold on to the fact that this place was always intended to be a place where i could say whatever i wanted, without fear and without judgement.  it's always been meant to be a play-space.  it's unhelpful for me to judge my life and self and writing NOW by what i wrote BEFORE.  i need to let go of the writer i used to be and nurture the writer i am now. i'm not who i once was.  the temperature of my entire world has changed and, when i look back, certain days feel like total fictions. 

how do i set myself free from what my own practice has been?  how do i stop holding up current projects to the expectations set down by previous accomplishments?  how do i write without thinking at all about what i've written before?  how do i begin again?  how do i start anew?  because that's exactly what needs to happen.


Aug 25, 2014

second skin


self-portraits made in drunken, desperate moments eager to fight or eager to love.  how may we come to speak to one another of the pain of living? about the pain which has become very much a second skin?  how regular it ends up being.  about the pain of the day?  such quiet pains.  such quiet hours.  this stillness.  all the hours of longing.  only my eyes in the mirror.  only me and my camera and no voice at the other end of the line.  

and all of this for you too.

Aug 16, 2014

memory lane can be the road to the Present


spent the whole day behind the hook and am now enjoying an over-poured glass of Auslese.  this is the very definition of a wonderful day off.

and i've needed it.  the passed week or so has been a bit of an emotional roller-coaster.  a huge box arrived unexpectedly containing my mother's collection of family photos, more than 3 1/2 years after her death.  i opened the box only to be sure of what it was and then closed it again.  i wasn't in the mood for that type of upheaval and i wasn't prepared to slice open a cardboard box and be greeted by my mother's face and the dresses she saved that my sister and i wore as little girls in an Olen Mill's portrait so soooooo many years ago.  kelly must've been 4 or 5.  that would have made me 7 or 8.

a few days later, i reached back inside the box and pulled the dresses out.  i remember hating them as a little girl but, now, they look like art pieces.  something possibly akin to the Kiki Smith piece, Sisters, or the twins in The Shining.  ha!

i gazed at them in between rounds of digging through the 7 portfolios that are stored in my bedroom closet.  it was a strange walk down memory lane.  it's amazing what an accurate barometer of emotion art is.  looking at my work from just a few years ago, i relived the pain and confusion and longing i was entrenched in during those days.  and the sheer MASS of my personal collection is astounding! i've thrown away SO MUCH each time i've moved and i still have such an enormous stockpile of work! it was heartrending to go through it all but there were also moments when i smiled.  and smiled wide like a goofy child, at that.  in the middle of a portfolio that largely houses work i did during the last year i lived in Calistoga, i came across a self-portrait i drew when i was 21 years old.  it was made during one of the happiest times in my life DESPITE the fact that i had yet to leave my hated home town.

it was drawn during the time Jose and i lived together in my very first apartment.  we were inseparable and i loved being with him.  we smoked way too many cigarettes and drank blended frappaccinos way too often and squeezed our bellies  and called ourselves fat just like two silly teenagers would.  :)  thinking back on all that makes me so happy.  we listened to Bikini Kill and dreamed of New York together.  what's really special is that sometimes we still do.  it's not at all irregular for Jose and i to refer to each other as Rebel Girl more than 10 years later.  :)

all this made somehow brought me to the realization that for the last several years i needed a deep round of PLAY.  it's no secret that life is hard and it's no secret that my life has been hard.  looking at my own work, my own hand smearing charcoal and graphite, the words i'd scrawl sometimes in the margins or on the back of the paper...  i realized that in the span of 3 short years i lost all three parental figures and the person i considered to be the closest member of my immediate family, my partner for 7 years.  with the exception of my siblings, my entire immediate family basically collapsed.   and all the emotion of those days was right there.  right in my hands, in the black and white smears and screams of my drawings.

it was hard to leave the house that day.  i wanted to hide in bed.  i wanted to be dirty and dumb and lounge around in dingy pajamas.  i wanted to not give a fuck about anything and just spend the day drinking.  i wanted to raise a middle finger to the world and cry my eyes out.  sometimes i hear my voice inside my own head and it sounds so small.  so painfully small. so heartbreaking.  i think of my mother and i think of my father and i think of my siblings and what their pain must be and i whisper inside myself, "this isn't fair"...

but looking at the artwork i made during such a tumultuous era allowed me to see that i have, in fact, healed from a great many pains and that i long to return to a certain type of seriousness again, a particular breed of deep introspection and artistic investigation.  basically, it made me want to draw again.  :)

we'll see.  i sure enjoyed laying in bed all day with my crochet hook and black yarn today, that's for sure.

i'm confident the Future is an interesting place.  


Aug 10, 2014

all in


i re-opened my etsy shop today.  it's something i've been wanting to do for quite sometime now and getting into the residency helped me pull the trigger on that this morning.  i'll be putting more and more things up for sale in the coming week, it was just important to open it today.  i simply needed to make the commitment to it.  and it's about more than just needing to raise funds for travel and supplies, it's about having an artistic presence in the world in as many forms and places as i feel able to and interested in.  it's about giving the art a chance to find its rightful home.  it's about taking my role as an artist a bit more seriously each day.

i've been watching my bosses lately, paying attention to how they move, the expressions on their faces, the way they carry themselves, how they speak and, most importantly, how much time they dedicate to their profession every day.  i started watching all this because 2 of them recently had birthdays and they were both in the restaurant on those days.  i'd remarked to our Sommelier "working on your birthday?  that sucks!" and her matter of fact retort was, "that's what this job takes."  her assertion stayed with me the rest of the evening and has followed me around in the weeks since, popping in to my brain almost daily, and is now slapping my in the face with a very simple truism: those who work daily toward their goals, undaunted and with total stubborn persistence, achieve them. those the road through this world is a bit more unclear for artists, it is nevertheless true that making a 7 day a week commitment to ANYTHING will eventually lead to success.  and i'm not even sure what i mean when i use the word "success" in relation to art as i largely already consider myself to be successfully living s an artist-  i wake up every day with enough time to luxuriate in the landscape of my diary before getting dressed for work.  i tend to work a 4-day work week and therefore have 3 days off every week to dedicate toward my own artist aims, whether it be holing up in bed and geeking out on a project of spending an entire day flipping through the monographs of artists i adore. i successfully incorporate art into my daily life.  but i'd rather be plugging 12 to 14 hours a day in to my practice than do anything else.  if i can look at my bosses and take a hint from them, what i'm seeing is the glaring reality to pursue what i want with as much steam and muscle as i've got because, as the lady said, "that's what this job takes." 


Aug 1, 2014



today i submitted another residency proposal and requested the paperwork to defer my student loan (again).  i'm trying to find ways to parlay the one residency offer i've received in to other opportunities.  it's amazing what one little nod of encouragement can do.  suddenly, it's not such a chore to send off a proposal.  suddenly, my dreams feel serious again and i feel the need to run toward a new future with every ounce of sweat and love i've got. 

still, it's scary.  but it's also exhillerating, and i think maybe the time has come to let myself be a bit shaken up again.  i'm very comfortable in my daily life.  i don't get as much art made or as much writing done as i'd like, but i'm not unhappy.  i like my job.  i like the people i work with.  i have fun everyday.  but when i think about waiting tables for the next 3 years rather than traveling, or rather than going to grad school, or rather than moving to new york and just committing to making it work...  i feel deflated.  i think somewhere along the line, maybe around the start of the year, i decided to coast.  and maybe i needed that.  maybe i needed a bit of ease and a lot of fun.  maybe i needed a break from all the big worries, all the pressure i generally feel to make each second MEAN SOMETHING.  it gets to be too much after awhile.  a person needs to spend a bit of time in shallow waters every now and then. 

over the course of the last few days, i return again and again to something my father used to say to me: "follow your first dreams first."  he's right.  that's exactly what a person should do.  that's exactly what an artist needs to do.  i know that i'll be waiting tables for the next few years but the question is really about where and what for?  what dreams are being financed?  what opportunities does being a waiter allow me to take advantage of?  which opportuniies am i chasing and creating for myself along the way?  and am i inspired by the life that surrounds me?

more and more, i've come to the knowledge that for the last several years i've been living a half-in, half-out kind of life, not fully committed to anything (other than art), ready to leave things and people behind at a moments notice if need be.  thankfully, i haven't needed to do such a thing but i'm more troubled/compelled by the fact that i was ready to.  i don't want to be that way.  for a time, it was necessary to be non-committal.  i needed it for my own protection while i healed from past hurts...  but i'm not planted here.  i love oakland yet i resist putting down real roots.  my mind and heart both pull hard toward a different city and the only thing that's keeping me in oakland at this point is fear of the unknown.  i'm selling myself short.  i'm keeping my dreams on the back-burner and the longer i keep them there, the easier it becomes to simply leave them there.  and doing this means i'm not truly committed to my dreams. i'm not taking myself seriously.  i seem to have fallen prey to the delusion that there will always be time for certain things later.  i know for a fact that's not true and it surprises me that i can even think this way. 

doris lessing said, "whatever you're meant to do, do it now.  the conditions are always impossible."

i'm trying to hold on to this, let it challenge and steel me and make me brave.  one day i'm going to die and i want to use my time on this planet as beautifully and effectively as i can.  i don't want to be a person who shies away from risk.  i know from my own past experiences that it is on the other side of risk where real happiness is found.  and not just happiness, but self-respect and self-knowledge.  i know that the adventure is always worth it.  i've got to let my steam build.  it's an artist's life i want, and it's an artist's life i'm built for.


Jul 31, 2014

shift and circle


i was offered a residency at the Vermont Studio Center.  i'm kinda shitting my pants about it.

funny how getting what you want can be a totally terrifying thing.  the passed few days have been one torrent of emotion and deep introspection after the next: self-questioning, self-doubt, second-guessing followed by fanatical rounds of elation and sheer joy at the mere thought of spending a month doing nothing but making art and hanging out with other artists. i haven't had that type of engaging, daily discourse since i was in art school.  it's been 6 years since i graduated and i miss it.  i miss it so much!  i miss being around others who think deeply and lovingly and critically about art.  i miss being around people who have centered their lives around creativity and artistic inquiry.  i miss being a big ol' art nerd, waking to scribble and draw and read and nothing else.  though that's largely how i spend my days off, it's just not the same as having 4 weeks to do nothing but those things.  and there is simply no substitute for artistic community and comradery.  there's absolutely nothing like being around other artists.  the way we speak to each other is unlike anything else.  being understood, finally, is such a poignant thing... an aphrodisiac in the deepest sense.

and so the questions pour in...

the time has come for a re-evaluation.

what am i made of?
what do i want?
what do i need?
how brave am i?