amends...

amends (1)
15" x 11"
ink and gouache on paper
angela simione, 2009



amends (2)
15" x 11"
gouache on paper
angela simione, 2009

p.s.

read this because this is art.

thank you.

most people wouldn't know it (at least i hope they don't) but, the truth is, i have a tendency toward sadness that is life-long. it's been a struggle of mine for as long as i can remember. even as i child, i felt sad on a pretty regular basis. things were chaotic and, in the midst of that chaos, all i ever wanted to be was pleasing.

when i was in college, i thought that the majority of that chaos had been layed to rest a long, long time ago. i was wrong. and to be perfectly honest, i've only recently gotten out from under the weight of a pretty massive and painful 2 year long depression. 2 years. that's a long time to feel bad about yourself, your life, everything. and if not for the bravery of my mother and the kind patience of my sweetheart, i'd probably still be in that horrible place of self-hate. i could not shake myself loose from it... and i can only imagine how painful it was for the people in my life who love me to watch me become so frail, so scared, so fed-up with my self... so opposite who they know me to be.

my practice slowed to a crawl. it took months to finish a painting that should've only taken a few weeks. and when i noticed this, i felt even worse. all i could see was failure. failure everywhere. not good enough, not smart enough, not refined or beautiful or important.

now, i'm amazed i got any work done at all during that time. absolutely amazed. while i was going through it, i kept reminding myself 'the work will save you. the work will save you. it's saved you so many times'. i made a point to at least try to trust it... especially when i felt there was nothing else i could trust. and there were moments all along the way where i achieved that trust but, looking back, it is glaringly apparent that i started building enormous hurdles, contingencies, expectations, and stringent rules about art, my practice, what qualifies and what doesn't, definitions for success... all which hurt my life's work... hurt me.

this blog has cataloged a lot of this in spite of my attempts to keep it quiet. it's all here. the strange struggle that i think is normal for artists. our identity is wrapped up in the work. it's impossible for the work not to suffer when we are suffering. and this isn't a bad thing so maybe i should've been more open about it at the time... it might've helped someone else. it might've helped me. but those damned contingencies were in the way and i just couldn't allow myself to share something i thought was shameful. that child's desire, the "i only ever wanted to be pleasing" was too active. i was not strong enough to expose the reality i lived in. i was afraid of getting THE LOOK. i was afraid of compromising my career, people's opinions of me, not meeting their expectations, not meeting my own.

but what about the saying 'many hands make light work'.

i take comfort in it. newly.

a comfort i historically deny myself.

it takes honesty. honesty is not any easy thing. it's hard to know, in times of deep sadness, what the truth even is, let alone speak it. but one thing is certain- my practice did save me when i let it. when i was honest, it fueled me and lifted me up. it gave me such a tremendous hope. a hope worth focusing on, keeping in front of my eyes, not blinking away.

and this space. this undefinable world, built in text and light, has become such a wonder, such a privilege... a document of hope.

today...

we woke up far too early. didn't drink nearly enough coffee. went on another house hunt. found out the house we like is beetle infested and needs a new roof. that's a big fat NO. i wore my 'i love you but' banner all around, everywhere we went, and a few people commented they liked it. bounce in my step. and then also the realization that finding a home takes a lot of luck and just the right timing. we've resigned ourselves to the NO FUN fact that it will be awhile. and so i'll go ahead and get new curtains. we need them. our little warm threadbare abode.

and so i ordered a pizza and plan to make it an early night. i want to go back and write in my notebook, curl up, feel safe, be warm, be held. ink. black scratch scratch scratch. little heart-sick masochist. little dreamy-eyed woman. little little me, far out in the dark of our forest highway. far away from old dreams and old hurts. feeling safe again these days... and quiet. very quiet. and a big need to move slow for a little while longer.

the weather man was not wrong...

it is coming down pretty hard out there. definitely not a good day for walking around without an umbrella. and converse are not rain shoes. i am thwarted. lucky for me, i am stocked up on coffee and hot chocolate and yarn. today is the perfect crochet day. warm home, sleeping dog, 2nd pot of coffee brewing, and a nice little nesting instinct toward making scarves and sweaters and beanies. not too bad a plan. besides, i've got to find a way to get things done in spite of winter. i will not lie... it's hard for me. i am not a winter animal. i hate the cold. cold is pain and i'm not a big fan of pain. in fact, the whole idea that hell is fire and brimstone seems like nonsense to me. i'm convinced it's one humongous iceberg.

hmmmm...

it's supposed to rain all day today... starting in about an hour. this isn't exactly welcome news. i'd planned on a trip to the city today to go art-looking and laughing with a friend of mine... on foot. and, after 4 1/2 years of living in the bay area, i still don't own an umbrella. my die-hard southern california training: i expect to wake to sunshine every single day.

maybe my buddy's got an umbrella...

maybe the weather man is wrong...

putting up plans...

my mind is spinning spinning spinning on new year's resolutions, coming up with all sorts of funky ideas to play with: making a quilt, a sweater, black and white striped curtains... fun stuff like that. but i've also been thinking about more businessy things too. it must be done. big on that particular list is refreshing my shop every quarter which spells quite a bit of work on my part but also, if i can manage it, a bigger commitment to my career in a very tangible way. and that's always a good thing. and i'll be starting on that now, making new drawings and things to offer up come january first. everything that's in the shop now will disappear come the first of the year and then every three months the shop itself will be re-curated with new work. keep it fresh, right? that's the name of the game, i've learned. and it doesn't seem easy but it'll keep me moving forward, determined, and thinking about art in an ever-expanding way.

linked to that, i've decided to go ahead and do the 'a drawing day' thing too. i've always been so impressed by the artists who take this particular project on and there's a ton of blogs out there dedicated to this exact practice. the results are always wonderful. it expands the definition of what a drawing is and how to go about making one. for my purposes, at least at the beginning, i'm going to keep a fairly traditional definition in place: marks on paper. and i'm not going to wait for the new year either. i'm gonna go ahead and get rolling on that now so that when the first of the year hits i'll be off and running at full steam. i may even create a second blog to document it... we'll see. having a list of images without any text is sort of a nice aesthetic and i've noticed i'm a person who responds well to having an OUTSIDE to answer to. it keeps me in line. :) however it goes, it'll go well and i know it'll be such a beneficial and wonderful addition to my daily living. dedication = goodness. i draw almost every day as it is but sometimes i don't finish the drawing and it sits hidden in a portfolio for weeks and weeks before i remember it's there. so that's the catch: to finish a drawing, big or small, every single day for an entire year. this is a pretty steep commitment but i'm up for it. drawing, as an act, has always helped the paintings. always. and it's fun too. i'll keep you posted. i've got 5 1/2 weeks to work out my plan of attack on this and i'm pretty sure i'll need every bit of it. and maybe even a new camera.

other than that, the new year will actually be more about maintaining my current commitments and deepening them. The Almighty Jog, my morning writing time, reading, eating healthier foods, drinking more water, doing the dishes on a more regular basis, practicing good listening skills, the laundry. ha! you know, the stuff that makes life better and a bit easier. and i think i'll save the "drink less coffee" resolution for later. i just love that hazelnut dreaminess way too much. i only got involved in the whole coffee-craze about three years ago so i've got some time before i start feeling the ill effects of a rampant and unrestricted coffee addiction. bare with me on that one. besides, it helps me write and paint and it just tastes too good to let go of. not yet, not yet, not yet. ;)

new...

my sweetie and i went to bed really early last night and caught up on a bit of the sleep we lost on the trip to southern california. and it did me wonders, for sure. i woke with a lightness today. some happy laughter in me. and sanity. and hope.

as my sweetie woke himself in the shower, i took my dog and notebook outside in to the cold and wrote wrote wrote and realized almost instantly the importance of goodness and humor in a person's day. how necessary they are... especially in the hard times. and i thought of my mother, two hours ahead of me, sitting out on her porch too, drinking coffee too, looking at her own beautiful forest and smiling.

there are so many things to be thankful for. she has roses. the breed that smell heavenly and cool and gentle. butterflies follow her around. it's true! they land on her nose and it creeps her out a little but it's a magical thing still. and i think of her, all bundled up in the iciness of this same morning, feeling happy and thankful and taking in all the small pleasures and know, for sure, that i must do the same.

a storm came through last night and the sky is white with low-laying fog and clouds now. i'll jog even if the rain decides to drop again. i'll run and breathe hard. i'll move. the leaves are turning yellow and brown. the end of the year, signaled in the vines. it is twisting toward its' end. and me. wondering where this year went. lost to confusion and desire, mostly. but if i look a bit closer, quite a bit of happy accomplishment as well. a calming down of old hurts. there is a newness in the stirrings. the holidays are welcome this time around. closeness and friendship and the ease of good, simple things.

good morning. :)

long slow breath out...

my optimism is here. it's alive but it's quiet. curled up. small. a child hiding under the bed. confusion feels like hatred sometimes. hatred for the world. its rhythm. its mode. that chaos spinning spinning spinning and make no bones about it- there will be no answer when you ask why. hardness. and last night i crawled in to bed an hour late and laid awake a long long time. my heart, sick. so sick in my heart, so sad, i felt like i might puke right there. i laid on my stomach and shoved a pillow under it. pressed my intestines inward and shut them up. shut them down. went to sleep finally. and got up at 5:40 this morning. made coffee. remembered i have a dentist appointment this morning. no jog til evening. i look for comfort in the small corners. i am finding some. a little. a little.

the news

what's the good word?
the good word dropped down.
the good surgeon.
confirmed.
my pretty mama-

reduced.



fear.
fear.
fear.
lift your foot.
go.
you are asking too much.


not her.


not yet.


bake you,
scald you,
shrink you in my kettle.
scorch and sear
til the unwanted thing dies.

i'll fucking murder you.




what's the good word?

confirmed.


the good doctor
the good green
deer in the yard
bee sting
a small mass burning
a hole in the middle of my mama.



not her.