i am back to my early morning schedule, back on that good, grey horse and OH how i have missed it! i had slipped back in to an old routine the past few weeks and i knew at the time that it was no good. no good at all. i saw how, even here on the blog, i suffered. my lethargy dictating when i wrote and how i wrote. it was glaring and it made me feel bad. but i suppose i needed a little reminder of how good the early morning schedule is for me in spite of being a night person by nature. i've always loved staying up late but i've realized that it's mainly due to the conversations that have taken place in the wee hours- for some odd reason our words seem more romantic, more poignant, more whatever in the witching hour. i've decided that that's sorta teenage (in a bad way) and that i need to out-grow that... at least in terms of day to day living. besides, i know exactly who i picked that habit up from and it's time to set that down. the cleaning spree i'm on is really about me more than the house. much more. and in a lot of strange, hard to explain ways, it is a very deep, very private form of painting, of poetry.
the arts are often used as therapy. here, i am reversing that equation. therapy becomes art. it exceeds and excels its station, its title, its function. i am reaching back in to the corners and getting out all the dust, getting the hair up from the carpet, no inch escaping my notice or hand. everything is touched, considered, fixed, cleaned, put in its right place or shoved out the door. i am trying to get back to that place of newness where all my possessions could fit in two suitcases. this is a romantic fascination that will never happen- my books alone could fill ten easily. but its the desire that is the point. its the work that is the point. a very private practice that will only bring good. there are things that i am finally strong enough to let go of. there are things that i am finally strong enough to live without. there are things that i no longer have any interest in using as a way to define myself.
i cleaned all day yesterday. all day. and i finished one of the potholders. ha! i can't tell you how damn proud i am of that thing! i noticed that i don't use my skills to benefit my own home. all the stuff i make gets sent out in to the world- which is wonderful! that's where art works its magic. but i decided i needed a bit of magic for myself as well... and more art on my walls than just my own. yesterday i framed other people's art and today i'll try to rearrange the walls and get them up. today, i will continue the magic that swirled through my home yesterday. today will be exactly the same. i can't tell you how happy and excited i am to finally be doing this. it has taken a long, pained year to get to this point where i am finally able to unload all of this. i am finally returning to my strong self and i am smiling and hopeful and back on the good, grey horse.
these texts are an archive of my life in the San Francisco Bay Area from march 2007 - march 2015. it stands as a record of close to a decade of my life, charting the struggles i faced as an artist, daughter, and lover. messy and chaotic at times, eloquent and poetic at others, these texts are an index i am proud of. it was here in this electric box that i learned how to be honest about my experiences and the person i needed to become. it was here that i first learned the truism that words make the world and how to trust such a beautiful, rife, hard fact.
thank you for meeting me here in such tall grass.
my artist website is here.
my artist website is here.