here it is- the last day of a very strangely curling year. and rumour has it that we are to be graced with the elusive blue moon tonight. a gift? a gift for all the weird, hard, horrors that were contained inside the last 364 nights? a token? a peace offering? i accept! and i will be outside tonight to see it for myself.
i painted big child-like clouds on the cover of my new notebook. i'm excited to write in it tomorrow morning. i'm excited to write january 1st, 2010 inside the front cover. i'm excited that a new decade begins tomorrow and that i have an idea of where to take it. i'm excited to be here, now, alive, and doing just fine.
my new year's resolutions are pretty simple- to continue strengthening my commitment to art and writing, to write and paint daily, to read daily, to encourage these pursuits in others, to run, to breathe hard, as hard as i can, to look at the moon every night and see what shape it takes, to express my joy in the small, silly things, to remain kind and open and funny, to laugh every single day for as long and as hard as i can, to laugh until i cry and my belly hurts, to carry myself with confidence and poise, to feel "calm and accomplished" (thanks, becca!), to enjoy how far i've come and press on forward toward all the hopes and dreams i've yet to capture. i will get them. every single last one of them. this year i'll do the work for a solo show. i may not get it scheduled but the work will be done. i'll get a few things published. not a lot but a few and practice bravery in that end of things. i'll finally teach myself how to knit and i'll finally get around to making myself a huge, deep, warm quilt. i'll take better care of my things and be more responsible with money. i'll practice health, in all forms and in all areas of my life. i won't be afraid to say i love you or to give hugs. i'll be myself- totally, fully, and without embarrassment or apology or reservation. i'll be honest and live with honor. all these things and then some... and it all springs forth from words, from writing, from reading, from dropping the ink and letting it roll where it wants to, where it has to.
and all my best, brightest, warmest wishes for you! all my best, all my love, all my strength and silliness and hope! beauty is everywhere, and so many reasons for happiness and to feel proud, feel strong, feel confident and lusciously easy and joyful. everywhere! go see that big blue moon tonight for yourselves. see if the forecast is correct for yourself. it's really just an excuse to look at the moon, to value the wonder that exists in this world. whether or not the forecast is even right isn't at all the point.
with love and gratitude and the most immense respect... happy new year!
Dec 31, 2009
Dec 30, 2009
Dec 29, 2009
3...
so close. so close. and i filled the very last page in my notebook this morning. i wanted it to last me all the way to the end of december but i got on a hot streak and fill a minimum of 6 pages every morning. i'll just shove some loose paper in the back and keep on writing, writing, writing all the way until the ritual ends.
today i was thinking about the difference between needs and desires... and how some desires are so strong, so based in personal values and ethics that even if they aren't needs in the survival sense of the word, they are still very real necessities. i'm trying to make distinctions between what i find to be necessary to my life and practice, and what i've been told or taught to expect of these things. it is a squirrely, winding thing. but good and worthwhile. i'm making lists. i'm reading the work of people i admire. i'm trying to learn from them, their work, their bravery. i'm feeling kind and easy and sweet. and very very lucky.
today i was thinking about the difference between needs and desires... and how some desires are so strong, so based in personal values and ethics that even if they aren't needs in the survival sense of the word, they are still very real necessities. i'm trying to make distinctions between what i find to be necessary to my life and practice, and what i've been told or taught to expect of these things. it is a squirrely, winding thing. but good and worthwhile. i'm making lists. i'm reading the work of people i admire. i'm trying to learn from them, their work, their bravery. i'm feeling kind and easy and sweet. and very very lucky.
Dec 28, 2009
hmmmmmm. question.
when i was a very very young writer - 16 years old - so maybe i just fancied myself to be a writer, i had a teacher who said to us "if you really mean it, you'll end up writing things that will hurt your family. you'll end up writing something out in to the world that will anger them. the things they wish would've stayed silent, kept hidden". something along those lines. i'm saying it worse, 13 years between then and now. and still the same fear that this statement is true... because it is true.
sometimes i think my words are greedy, only here to assuage me, my heart, my needs. i learned early that personal needs are selfish and bad. only now do i see that that lesson was bad and wrong, not me. not me.
writers- how do you handle this? do you think of it? do you fear it? how do you use it? how does one become fearless? is there such a thing as 'the sacred'? subjects you never touch? or do you parlay it in to a fiction? do you hide the work under the bed? do you lock it away? how do you let the rottweiler of the leash?
sometimes i think my words are greedy, only here to assuage me, my heart, my needs. i learned early that personal needs are selfish and bad. only now do i see that that lesson was bad and wrong, not me. not me.
writers- how do you handle this? do you think of it? do you fear it? how do you use it? how does one become fearless? is there such a thing as 'the sacred'? subjects you never touch? or do you parlay it in to a fiction? do you hide the work under the bed? do you lock it away? how do you let the rottweiler of the leash?
4...
strange dreams all last night. i can't remember any of them. it is a frozen morning. smoke then steam. fog in the forest. white grey sky. moss on the tress pointing North.
it is monday.
my nose runs.
it looks like rain.
yesterday i managed to wash a few dishes. i drew The Anonymous Girls on a book page. splattered their covered faces with ink. sighed. the house is a wreck. but it's not nearly as dreary as it sounds. it's warm in here. and safe too. i'll do my best today to feign health in small ways at least. feign life. it is monday already. and the sky gone white. stillness. and the counting, counting, counting...
i am big on the ritual this time of year:
i tell myself- it is time to look in the mirror. time to wash the smoke out of your hair. get the monster out. don't let it follow you in to the next year, little one. do the work.
i remember how excited i was this day a year ago. i absolutely believed that the changing of the calendar was a magical thing. that the new year would sweep through, a tremendous broom, and clear out all the old ghosts. take the webs out of my doors and i'd wake new year's day to find everything clean and bright and in it's right place. an eye-blink. corrected. proper. pure. i honestly did believe that.
and here we are again. the same day a year later. on the hinge on the new. but this time around i've built my own broom. i'm doing the cleaning myself. my own hands, my own pen and page, my canvasses waiting on the wall. sweeping, sweeping. slowly, slowly. but it is a sure thing. and i am still hopeful for some magic. i have new eyes this time. eyes that are able to see such things. and i know, for sure, what tools to use to clean my own slate.
be gentle with yourself.
i love you.
i'm not the only one.
it is monday.
my nose runs.
it looks like rain.
yesterday i managed to wash a few dishes. i drew The Anonymous Girls on a book page. splattered their covered faces with ink. sighed. the house is a wreck. but it's not nearly as dreary as it sounds. it's warm in here. and safe too. i'll do my best today to feign health in small ways at least. feign life. it is monday already. and the sky gone white. stillness. and the counting, counting, counting...
i am big on the ritual this time of year:
i tell myself- it is time to look in the mirror. time to wash the smoke out of your hair. get the monster out. don't let it follow you in to the next year, little one. do the work.
i remember how excited i was this day a year ago. i absolutely believed that the changing of the calendar was a magical thing. that the new year would sweep through, a tremendous broom, and clear out all the old ghosts. take the webs out of my doors and i'd wake new year's day to find everything clean and bright and in it's right place. an eye-blink. corrected. proper. pure. i honestly did believe that.
and here we are again. the same day a year later. on the hinge on the new. but this time around i've built my own broom. i'm doing the cleaning myself. my own hands, my own pen and page, my canvasses waiting on the wall. sweeping, sweeping. slowly, slowly. but it is a sure thing. and i am still hopeful for some magic. i have new eyes this time. eyes that are able to see such things. and i know, for sure, what tools to use to clean my own slate.
be gentle with yourself.
i love you.
i'm not the only one.
Dec 27, 2009
today...
i am following all the rules. i ate chicken noodle soup. i drank 4 very tall glasses of orange juice. i am wandering around the house, back and forth, back and forth, between rooms, out of sorts, distracted. and i keep fiddling with that short story thing of mine. someone stop me if i'm messing it up. but i guess that means it isn't finished... or maybe sick-days aren't the right days to do editing and re-working. my sweetie is giggling and shaking his head at me because i stop what i'm doing and move on to something else every 15 minutes. i'm on a circuit of unfinished projects and, at 15 minute intervals each, i'm not really getting much done. it's just the strange sweep of boredom that comes from being under the weather, from wanting to be healthy and trying to fake my way to it. i am fog-filled. my guts are grumbling and i wish the sun was still up. night comes much too quickly in winter. i'm happy that we are post-solstice and the days will be lengthening soon. long days of light and drawing on the living room floor and cutting out cloud shapes and tying them up in front of the windows. i am already dreaming of spring. dresses and wild hair and maybe even painted toenails.
5...
the countdown begins...
and me, still sick and heavy with the sadness sickness brings... or is it the holidays? this time of year seems to have an adverse effect on most people. it breaks the stride of happiness and productivity and thankfulness, contrary to what the holidays are supposed to mean. still sniffly and stuffy and aggravated but somehow excited to see the new year arrive. i'm glad to see 2009 shove off and a new opening, a portal, spread wide-open in front of me. there are too many hopes for me to list. my head is too deep in the fog of congestion. the fog is not burning off. but the hopes are here, alive and thumping despite lethargy and distraction. hope always, shining bright as a child, shining like a new tooth, a golden door knob, an open, lucky window, a promise ring, a charm bracelet, a poem. shining shining.
the shining is what needs to be clung to.
this year so many things changed. it was all flux and chaos and desire. it was lost to despair sometimes. it was swimming in bliss sometimes. it was a bundle of love and hate and hurt and pleasure. it was angry and mean. it was gentle and soft. time fell out of step. the fog layed down. the fog refused to burn off. and then suddenly... the brightness. shining hope and unexpected kindness and inexplicable resilience. and there are still 5 days to go.
most days, i am thankful for all of it. even the hard stuff. even the stuff that hurt so bad and broke my heart. even the things that made me want to scrap the whole shibang and start all over again. all of it. because through the hard stuff came such beauty, polished and gleaming and unexpected. in that barren space, words sprung up and twisted themselves around in to odd little poems and i learned that the rules no longer matter. and it's a nice place to be... to have gotten far along enough to know that the rules no longer apply. and that is what 2009 has been. the shattering of ALL RULE.
and me, still sick and heavy with the sadness sickness brings... or is it the holidays? this time of year seems to have an adverse effect on most people. it breaks the stride of happiness and productivity and thankfulness, contrary to what the holidays are supposed to mean. still sniffly and stuffy and aggravated but somehow excited to see the new year arrive. i'm glad to see 2009 shove off and a new opening, a portal, spread wide-open in front of me. there are too many hopes for me to list. my head is too deep in the fog of congestion. the fog is not burning off. but the hopes are here, alive and thumping despite lethargy and distraction. hope always, shining bright as a child, shining like a new tooth, a golden door knob, an open, lucky window, a promise ring, a charm bracelet, a poem. shining shining.
the shining is what needs to be clung to.
this year so many things changed. it was all flux and chaos and desire. it was lost to despair sometimes. it was swimming in bliss sometimes. it was a bundle of love and hate and hurt and pleasure. it was angry and mean. it was gentle and soft. time fell out of step. the fog layed down. the fog refused to burn off. and then suddenly... the brightness. shining hope and unexpected kindness and inexplicable resilience. and there are still 5 days to go.
most days, i am thankful for all of it. even the hard stuff. even the stuff that hurt so bad and broke my heart. even the things that made me want to scrap the whole shibang and start all over again. all of it. because through the hard stuff came such beauty, polished and gleaming and unexpected. in that barren space, words sprung up and twisted themselves around in to odd little poems and i learned that the rules no longer matter. and it's a nice place to be... to have gotten far along enough to know that the rules no longer apply. and that is what 2009 has been. the shattering of ALL RULE.
Dec 26, 2009
ugg...
christmas day my sweetie and i both woke up sick. the kind of sick that gets worse as you go forward through the day. and it's pretty much the same way today. we got out and did the grocery shopping. we needed orange juice and NyQuil. and i don't know where the last two days went... somewhere lost in the fog of mental congestion that seems to come along for the ride when one gets the flu... i suppose there was a holiday somewhere in there. ha! all this to say, i am currently shirking all responsibilities to lay around in footie pajamas and whine and eat carrot cake instead of fruit and i really want to watch Donnie Darko tonight and be lazy in front of the television and not do a damn thing at all other than that. maybe i'll make popcorn. greasy butter-loaded heart-clogging popcorn.
counting today, there are only 6 days left in the year. geez. too fast, kids. way too fast.
counting today, there are only 6 days left in the year. geez. too fast, kids. way too fast.
Dec 24, 2009
christmas eve...
i hope there is love all around you.
when i woke up today the sky had patches of lavender in it. and the same sky presented itself to my friend up the coast. and it is my hope it went further than that, all the way up to wherever you are, where everyone is.
when i woke up today the sky had patches of lavender in it. and the same sky presented itself to my friend up the coast. and it is my hope it went further than that, all the way up to wherever you are, where everyone is.
a short short strange little story. i'm getting practice with these things.
the letter
i didn't give an answer. i only took the keys.
a clank on the dresser.
i started the car.
a crow in the yard.
two hurt hands and a long, undeliverable letter:
it is a timid bell. failing light. gentle windings. a web of smoke. the colors change as the ink runs out. floundering violet.
i steal pens from the library, the dentist's office, the DMV, the neighbor. the letter grows. crawls like rust. it has its own suitcase. it makes piles all over the floor.
i know every one of the little things by heart. the small secret scorns, the shadings, the unexplainable pains that grow and twist, still alive, still writhing. i have memorized the curling. the spikes. the lists. i can still smell your stinking rotten mouth. i can still hear the FUCK FUCK FUCK! the restless stench, the dinner that got forgot, the snarl and the tear, how i bent bent bent and agreed to all i had argued. the orders. the plums i fed the thin beast in winter, expensive, so far out of season and us so poor. i looked under the cushions for dimes and in the pockets of coats that didn't belong to me. i had agreed to all i had argued. i said i love you when i didn't want to. i said it was okay when it wasn't. i said everything will be alright when i knew it wouldn't be. i said it and i washed your hair. i said it and i cried in the shower. i said it with my hand on the knob and all my clothes in garbage bags. i said it
and it sent my ships to the bottom.
sometimes i am lucky.
sometimes i peek out.
i find the scattered nouns. the names i lost, shaken out.
i pin them down. i trace the edges. i put them in the letter.
the safe end of the mattress. the home waters. endless. endless.
and no wolves in the canal.
yesterday, i found an old ink pen under the couch. it is winter again. no plums on the counter. no plum in my hand.
the letter will never be finished.
a wish gone un-given.
i'm not sure if this is done or even what it is. but it's here and calling and it needs some breathing room, some stretching room. i'll figure it out one day. eventually. and i'm so happy to have stopped caring about things like plot or having an obvious point.
i didn't give an answer. i only took the keys.
a clank on the dresser.
i started the car.
a crow in the yard.
two hurt hands and a long, undeliverable letter:
it is a timid bell. failing light. gentle windings. a web of smoke. the colors change as the ink runs out. floundering violet.
i steal pens from the library, the dentist's office, the DMV, the neighbor. the letter grows. crawls like rust. it has its own suitcase. it makes piles all over the floor.
i know every one of the little things by heart. the small secret scorns, the shadings, the unexplainable pains that grow and twist, still alive, still writhing. i have memorized the curling. the spikes. the lists. i can still smell your stinking rotten mouth. i can still hear the FUCK FUCK FUCK! the restless stench, the dinner that got forgot, the snarl and the tear, how i bent bent bent and agreed to all i had argued. the orders. the plums i fed the thin beast in winter, expensive, so far out of season and us so poor. i looked under the cushions for dimes and in the pockets of coats that didn't belong to me. i had agreed to all i had argued. i said i love you when i didn't want to. i said it was okay when it wasn't. i said everything will be alright when i knew it wouldn't be. i said it and i washed your hair. i said it and i cried in the shower. i said it with my hand on the knob and all my clothes in garbage bags. i said it
and it sent my ships to the bottom.
sometimes i am lucky.
sometimes i peek out.
i find the scattered nouns. the names i lost, shaken out.
i pin them down. i trace the edges. i put them in the letter.
the safe end of the mattress. the home waters. endless. endless.
and no wolves in the canal.
yesterday, i found an old ink pen under the couch. it is winter again. no plums on the counter. no plum in my hand.
the letter will never be finished.
a wish gone un-given.
i'm not sure if this is done or even what it is. but it's here and calling and it needs some breathing room, some stretching room. i'll figure it out one day. eventually. and i'm so happy to have stopped caring about things like plot or having an obvious point.
Dec 23, 2009
work, work, work
the day is bright already and there is a feeling in it... something in the light that makes me want to take pictures and dress up all silly and become, once and for all, the small town freak. whenever i walk through town (which isn't very often), i get stared at a lot and i think it might be the silver sequined shoes i wear. they're quite blinding in the sun. they're awesome. and i got a new pair of blue sequined shoes but i'm waiting to break them in til the weather gets a bit less wet. they are not puddle-jumping shoes. i need a pair of those yellow rubber rain boots. i've always wanted a pair of them. i'd wear them everyday, all winter long, sequined shoes underneath.
i'm getting ready to brew a second pot of coffee. i've already spent two hours painting. it's the perk of painting in-doors... especially in the kitchen: you get right to it. and, after a few days of looking at the photograph of the most recent painting, i decided it is not done after all. i cheaped out on the background. all that work on the aprons becomes meaningless if i allow myself to take a short-cut somewhere else. so i've been working on the background again and it's already so much more full than it was before. i am much much MUCH more pleased. i just needed a few days away from it, some distance to see what was really going on. it's a beautiful painting and i will do my best to honor it. no short-cuts. struggle, struggle, struggle away until i get it right. winter gives me the time.
i'm getting ready to brew a second pot of coffee. i've already spent two hours painting. it's the perk of painting in-doors... especially in the kitchen: you get right to it. and, after a few days of looking at the photograph of the most recent painting, i decided it is not done after all. i cheaped out on the background. all that work on the aprons becomes meaningless if i allow myself to take a short-cut somewhere else. so i've been working on the background again and it's already so much more full than it was before. i am much much MUCH more pleased. i just needed a few days away from it, some distance to see what was really going on. it's a beautiful painting and i will do my best to honor it. no short-cuts. struggle, struggle, struggle away until i get it right. winter gives me the time.
Dec 22, 2009
good morning!
i woke to the smell of coffee and oil paint. delicious.
i got my little make-shift studio set up yesterday morning and got straight to work. i painted all day long, pushing The Almighty Jog back to late afternoon, and each of the 4 big oils are now hanging on the walls, pleading for more attention. the house is permeated with their gorgeous scent. i can't tell you how happy this makes me- to be moving forward again at a healthy pace, serious and excited and playful all at once. and it's a breed of joy i've missed. it's a breed of joy i've needed.
maybe i'll start work on THE BEAST today- a gargantuan canvas that will not fit in the truck. i'll eventually need to rent a moving van to transport this thing. totally fucking awesome! i haven't worked on a canvas this big since my senior year... and actually this canvas is a bit bigger than that. oh, it's gonna be fun! so much room to spread out in, roll around in, root around in like a dog. but first, i've got to prime the monster and that'll take a couple hours. the grunt work. i hate it. but ever since i started stretching my own canvas, i simply can't make do with the pre-fab stuff at the art store. it's just not nearly the same and, now, feels like shit to paint on. the gesso doesn't even feel the same. i am becoming quite a snob about this stuff. ha! but it's true what your teachers tell you... quality materials make your work SHINE!
i got my little make-shift studio set up yesterday morning and got straight to work. i painted all day long, pushing The Almighty Jog back to late afternoon, and each of the 4 big oils are now hanging on the walls, pleading for more attention. the house is permeated with their gorgeous scent. i can't tell you how happy this makes me- to be moving forward again at a healthy pace, serious and excited and playful all at once. and it's a breed of joy i've missed. it's a breed of joy i've needed.
maybe i'll start work on THE BEAST today- a gargantuan canvas that will not fit in the truck. i'll eventually need to rent a moving van to transport this thing. totally fucking awesome! i haven't worked on a canvas this big since my senior year... and actually this canvas is a bit bigger than that. oh, it's gonna be fun! so much room to spread out in, roll around in, root around in like a dog. but first, i've got to prime the monster and that'll take a couple hours. the grunt work. i hate it. but ever since i started stretching my own canvas, i simply can't make do with the pre-fab stuff at the art store. it's just not nearly the same and, now, feels like shit to paint on. the gesso doesn't even feel the same. i am becoming quite a snob about this stuff. ha! but it's true what your teachers tell you... quality materials make your work SHINE!
Dec 21, 2009
be good.
drizzle drizzle drizzle and inga is sleeping in our bed. worn out little hound, looking for a place to hide, made uncomfortable and cranky by her heat. poor little thing. she comes up and presses her big soft head in to my stomach looking for comfort. i can hear her voice in my head, "mama, make it go away".
i woke thinking of my own mama... her big forest all frozen and the deer and the birds and roses that they ate. and here, the rain keeps on coming down.
all i can think about lately is painting. "keep painting. just keep painting" is what i tell myself. not that it'll change anything for my family... but i want her to see them all. they're all locked up in me right now and i want to get them out so she can see them, so she can see me be good, be honest, be hopeful.
i'll finally get around to setting up the tiny room off the kitchen today. my cramped winter studio. i'll open the curtains and chase off the yellow light. keep painting. just keep painting. be good. be good. be good.
i woke thinking of my own mama... her big forest all frozen and the deer and the birds and roses that they ate. and here, the rain keeps on coming down.
all i can think about lately is painting. "keep painting. just keep painting" is what i tell myself. not that it'll change anything for my family... but i want her to see them all. they're all locked up in me right now and i want to get them out so she can see them, so she can see me be good, be honest, be hopeful.
i'll finally get around to setting up the tiny room off the kitchen today. my cramped winter studio. i'll open the curtains and chase off the yellow light. keep painting. just keep painting. be good. be good. be good.
Dec 20, 2009
also...
i think i'm simply moving in to a new phase in life were enjoying my life is of the utmost importance. i've got my many goals in mind but i don't want to focus on them in a frantic way. i want to just slow down in certain areas and enjoy the things i've got. it makes sense, something i heard someone say... if you're unable to appreciate the good things you already have, why would you think you'd be able to appreciate more?
a decade ends... it's a biggun!
with the New Year coming up quick, i think it's time for us all to sing our own praises for a minute. it's a good time to reflect, for as ritualistic as it may seem (besides, i like rituals), and see how far we've come, the strides we've made, and the people we've become.
in spite of economic hardship and all the up-hill battles we've been faced with, there is goodness all around us. i want to hear your story, the lessons you've learned, and the things you hold dear. post a link in the comments section if you undertake this biggun. i want to know. and if you can make it through this lengthy post, here's mine:
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yesterday, i talked with my mom about how fast the last 5 years have went by... the entire decade actually. the 2000's are a bit of a blur. and if someone had told me, on the eve of 2000, where i'd be 10 years later i wouldn't have believed any of it. in spite of the hardships of the last two years (which seems to be a fairly universal complaint and not at all specific or individual to me), the decade itself has been pretty amazing. a time of flux and seemingly constant re-evaluation, hard work, and learning how to put blue jeans on my dreams. a time of learning and renewal, consideration, thoughtfulness, and determination.
10 years ago my biggest dream was to get out of my home town. i call it my home town only because, through all the moving, it's the place i kept ending back up. and each return to that place was sour, disappointing, heart-breaking even. it's one of those places where even the young people say "no one ever gets out" and tell you to your face that your aspirations are stupid. getting out was priority number one... the hardest one. and i knew that school would be my ticket out.
i took classes, in between holding 2 jobs, at the local community college for 7 long years, well beyond what it took to transfer to a university because the money was just simply not there. but i wanted to keep in practice with attending classes and doing homework and being dedicated. i knew when i turned 25, the policies of the financial aid department shifted in my favor. so i bided my time until then and decided i'd learn as much as i could and "bloom where i was planted". a bitter resignation at the time but well worth the wait. i showed in bars and co-ops and started building a little art community of my own. i worked my ass off and practiced patience... and looking back, the struggle to get to art-school made the experience of going so much more magical and important than it would've been had it come to me easily. i wouldn't have appreciated it had i gotten to go when i was 18 or 19 years old. and i wouldn't be making the work i'm making now.
learning how to work hard, how to keep trying in spite of the hardships you face and the mean jokes that get made, was the best lesson i've ever learned. and i've learned it so deeply that giving up is never an option. i don't even think that way. trying is a constant in my life. it is ingrained. nay-sayers don't do me any damage at this point at all. i tune them out and keep on moving.
learning how to shrug off the ill will of others and how to keep working in moments of doubt and chaos served me well once i finally got to my dream school. especially that first year of insanely hard critiques and working full time while carrying a full class load. i won't say there weren't moments when i was amazingly unsure of myself and deeply depressed and questioned my ability to even pull the whole thing off - there was - but i wasn't about to stop trying. i knew before i got to CCA that once i got there, the real work would begin. and it did. i'm so lucky that my sweetie and i had found each other by then and had already made the commitment to help each other through roughness and disappointment. he encouraged me and showcased faith in my abilities in moments when i needed it the most and, at times, seemed to believe in the value of art more than i did.
in my second year, i hit my stride and made another goal that seemed out of bounds and entirely idealistic- getting gallery representation prior to graduating. i wanted to walk in to a career as soon as i collected my degree. and so i worked on my portfolio to HANG for a solid year and a half and, finally, a month before i went in to my senior year, i sent it off in the mail with my fingers crossed and the knowledge that i'd done my very best.
and it worked. the day i signed my contract was one of the happiest, most awe-struck moments in my entire life.
and then everything went crazy in my private life. not between my sweetie and i, but within my family. and it stayed crazy all the way up until i graduated. so crazy that i'd let go of the goal of graduating with High Distinction or any honor at all... getting the piece of paper was all i wanted at that point.
the specifics aren't something i want to get in to publicly. let it be enough to know that tragedy was everywhere and two slipped disks on top of it. weeks missed from class and sickness and ambulances... insanity. no glitz. no glamour. and it was all i could do to keep my eyes on the finish line. i made up my mind to hold myself together until then... and then i could fall apart. i told myself to keep as dry an eye as i could and struggle through to the end, screw my GPA, just finish. finish and then lose my mind.
on graduation day, i showed up in my black gown and spike heels and learned i'd be receiving my degree with High Distinction. me. the girl who spent 7 years in community college, who graduated from a continuation school, who comes from a humble home in a hateful town. speechless. and not at all proud. humbled to the core. shocked, tearful, and amazed. the walk across the stage was as bitter-sweet as any walk could be.
i claimed my life as my own... and lost someone in the process. and that loss translated in to what ended up being a massive 2 year long depression that i could barely see through. cross the finish line and then lose my mind? pretty much.
and during those dark days, which i'm only recently surfacing from, came a great many wonders: inga, art shows, the Microsoft Collection, auctions and galas, a strengthened commitment between myself and my sweetie, moving to wine-country and learning how to appreciate the beauty of a natural landscape, The Almighty Jog, becoming tight with my brother again, stronger friendships, new friendships, reconciling my own definition of success against outside expectations, and picking back up the pen to write.
i'm amazed that i kept working during that time. i'm amazed the work was at all good. i'm amazed that the maid series came along and opportunities to show that work and get in out in the world presented itself. i'm amazed that, though my practice may have slowed, it remained good and fertile. maybe i didn't lose my mind after all?
today, with a lot of patient and painful work behind me, i feel gratitude for everything that has happened in my life. every single day of it. and i look forward to the New Year with the knowledge that there will be more patient and painful work... that tragedy will find me again, that it will find all of us... but that i will not create it in my life. i will not look toward the negative and hurtful, i choose to look at the beauty of my life instead. i choose to keep my eyes on the accomplishments, not the "failures", to see how far i've come and to learn from this wealth of experience. i choose to breathe gratitude rather than resentment. i choose to see the many blessings in my life rather than the hardships.
in the new year, i resolve to make the commitments i already have in my life at present deeper, healthier, more precious. health in all its forms- my body, my art practice, my relationships, even this blog. when i look at my daily life, i'm entirely amazed and absolutely astounded to have found myself in this time, this place.
during my slumber party with rebecca, we talked about New Year's Resolutions. she's the only other person i know who makes them too. and big on the list she'd made was "feel calm and accomplished". it's important to see the good. it's important to feel good about yourself... to give yourself that kind of permission... to like who you are. calm and accomplished. has a nice ring to it, don't you think? and i'm definitely going to shoot for that. to enjoy the beauty that exists in my daily life, to practice gratitude and humility, to truly appreciate the opportunities that have come my way and to work as diligently as i can to rise to the challenges and show due respect for the blessings that have found me.
in spite of economic hardship and all the up-hill battles we've been faced with, there is goodness all around us. i want to hear your story, the lessons you've learned, and the things you hold dear. post a link in the comments section if you undertake this biggun. i want to know. and if you can make it through this lengthy post, here's mine:
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yesterday, i talked with my mom about how fast the last 5 years have went by... the entire decade actually. the 2000's are a bit of a blur. and if someone had told me, on the eve of 2000, where i'd be 10 years later i wouldn't have believed any of it. in spite of the hardships of the last two years (which seems to be a fairly universal complaint and not at all specific or individual to me), the decade itself has been pretty amazing. a time of flux and seemingly constant re-evaluation, hard work, and learning how to put blue jeans on my dreams. a time of learning and renewal, consideration, thoughtfulness, and determination.
10 years ago my biggest dream was to get out of my home town. i call it my home town only because, through all the moving, it's the place i kept ending back up. and each return to that place was sour, disappointing, heart-breaking even. it's one of those places where even the young people say "no one ever gets out" and tell you to your face that your aspirations are stupid. getting out was priority number one... the hardest one. and i knew that school would be my ticket out.
i took classes, in between holding 2 jobs, at the local community college for 7 long years, well beyond what it took to transfer to a university because the money was just simply not there. but i wanted to keep in practice with attending classes and doing homework and being dedicated. i knew when i turned 25, the policies of the financial aid department shifted in my favor. so i bided my time until then and decided i'd learn as much as i could and "bloom where i was planted". a bitter resignation at the time but well worth the wait. i showed in bars and co-ops and started building a little art community of my own. i worked my ass off and practiced patience... and looking back, the struggle to get to art-school made the experience of going so much more magical and important than it would've been had it come to me easily. i wouldn't have appreciated it had i gotten to go when i was 18 or 19 years old. and i wouldn't be making the work i'm making now.
learning how to work hard, how to keep trying in spite of the hardships you face and the mean jokes that get made, was the best lesson i've ever learned. and i've learned it so deeply that giving up is never an option. i don't even think that way. trying is a constant in my life. it is ingrained. nay-sayers don't do me any damage at this point at all. i tune them out and keep on moving.
learning how to shrug off the ill will of others and how to keep working in moments of doubt and chaos served me well once i finally got to my dream school. especially that first year of insanely hard critiques and working full time while carrying a full class load. i won't say there weren't moments when i was amazingly unsure of myself and deeply depressed and questioned my ability to even pull the whole thing off - there was - but i wasn't about to stop trying. i knew before i got to CCA that once i got there, the real work would begin. and it did. i'm so lucky that my sweetie and i had found each other by then and had already made the commitment to help each other through roughness and disappointment. he encouraged me and showcased faith in my abilities in moments when i needed it the most and, at times, seemed to believe in the value of art more than i did.
in my second year, i hit my stride and made another goal that seemed out of bounds and entirely idealistic- getting gallery representation prior to graduating. i wanted to walk in to a career as soon as i collected my degree. and so i worked on my portfolio to HANG for a solid year and a half and, finally, a month before i went in to my senior year, i sent it off in the mail with my fingers crossed and the knowledge that i'd done my very best.
and it worked. the day i signed my contract was one of the happiest, most awe-struck moments in my entire life.
and then everything went crazy in my private life. not between my sweetie and i, but within my family. and it stayed crazy all the way up until i graduated. so crazy that i'd let go of the goal of graduating with High Distinction or any honor at all... getting the piece of paper was all i wanted at that point.
the specifics aren't something i want to get in to publicly. let it be enough to know that tragedy was everywhere and two slipped disks on top of it. weeks missed from class and sickness and ambulances... insanity. no glitz. no glamour. and it was all i could do to keep my eyes on the finish line. i made up my mind to hold myself together until then... and then i could fall apart. i told myself to keep as dry an eye as i could and struggle through to the end, screw my GPA, just finish. finish and then lose my mind.
on graduation day, i showed up in my black gown and spike heels and learned i'd be receiving my degree with High Distinction. me. the girl who spent 7 years in community college, who graduated from a continuation school, who comes from a humble home in a hateful town. speechless. and not at all proud. humbled to the core. shocked, tearful, and amazed. the walk across the stage was as bitter-sweet as any walk could be.
i claimed my life as my own... and lost someone in the process. and that loss translated in to what ended up being a massive 2 year long depression that i could barely see through. cross the finish line and then lose my mind? pretty much.
and during those dark days, which i'm only recently surfacing from, came a great many wonders: inga, art shows, the Microsoft Collection, auctions and galas, a strengthened commitment between myself and my sweetie, moving to wine-country and learning how to appreciate the beauty of a natural landscape, The Almighty Jog, becoming tight with my brother again, stronger friendships, new friendships, reconciling my own definition of success against outside expectations, and picking back up the pen to write.
i'm amazed that i kept working during that time. i'm amazed the work was at all good. i'm amazed that the maid series came along and opportunities to show that work and get in out in the world presented itself. i'm amazed that, though my practice may have slowed, it remained good and fertile. maybe i didn't lose my mind after all?
today, with a lot of patient and painful work behind me, i feel gratitude for everything that has happened in my life. every single day of it. and i look forward to the New Year with the knowledge that there will be more patient and painful work... that tragedy will find me again, that it will find all of us... but that i will not create it in my life. i will not look toward the negative and hurtful, i choose to look at the beauty of my life instead. i choose to keep my eyes on the accomplishments, not the "failures", to see how far i've come and to learn from this wealth of experience. i choose to breathe gratitude rather than resentment. i choose to see the many blessings in my life rather than the hardships.
in the new year, i resolve to make the commitments i already have in my life at present deeper, healthier, more precious. health in all its forms- my body, my art practice, my relationships, even this blog. when i look at my daily life, i'm entirely amazed and absolutely astounded to have found myself in this time, this place.
during my slumber party with rebecca, we talked about New Year's Resolutions. she's the only other person i know who makes them too. and big on the list she'd made was "feel calm and accomplished". it's important to see the good. it's important to feel good about yourself... to give yourself that kind of permission... to like who you are. calm and accomplished. has a nice ring to it, don't you think? and i'm definitely going to shoot for that. to enjoy the beauty that exists in my daily life, to practice gratitude and humility, to truly appreciate the opportunities that have come my way and to work as diligently as i can to rise to the challenges and show due respect for the blessings that have found me.
Dec 19, 2009
yum
potatoes boiling and brussel sprouts too and steaks in the broiler. garlic and pepper and butter across every inch of every thing. our home smells good. this week is all about cooking. comfort foods. none of that fancy stuff, just good ol' home-cooked deliciousness. and i don't mind one bit. i'm looking forward to my sweetie's christmas vacation- lazy days under quilts and watching movies, hiding and huddling together from the winter outside the windows. lazy days spent with Angela Carter- i just started The Infernal Desire Machines of Doctor Hoffman and am already hooked. lolling around in warmth and words and letting this strange, hard year wind itself down. i've had enough and am content now to wait it out. except when it comes to the paintings. 4 huge oils going now and it is quite the juggling act but happy and fun. i'm excited for where the work will go this coming year, where it will take me. i'm excited for so many things and looking forward to january 1st.
Dec 18, 2009
ahhhhhh...
i'm glad it's friday. it's been a weird week. fun... but weird. lucky for me, a storm of painting has graced me and, ever since i went to see my buddy rebecca, i've been on a hot streak. something is moving again. and forward. the rain went away and i've been free to loll around in my oils. and at night i go back and forth between my black gouache, black yarn, and the black type of novels underneath my black blanket. black black black. but not dismal. not depressed. just quiet. and learning. i'm trying to let this strange year to simmer down; snip its overgrowth and make room for new and better days. i can't believe christmas is a week from today. it doesn't feel that close and i wish it weren't. it'd be nice to have just a bit more time.
Dec 17, 2009
Dec 15, 2009
WARNING: BIG TIME SENTIMENTALIT-TEE-HEE!
dog sleeping, sky beginning to pale, me and my coffee alone together in the quiet. these mornings are a luxury. i won't always have such freedoms. but for now, i can work to enjoy them and appreciate them as much as i possibly can, to use them with honor and diligence and wide-open gratitude... to pay attention to the sweet nudges i receive, the support and encouragement that come my way to reassure me that i've done even a small amount of good.
yesterday i shipped a drawing to a woman who buys art instead of toys for her two boys. 2 and 4 and already endowed with definite tastes! ha! and i can't tell you how much love spilled in to my heart when i learned of this sweet family. so much love it is still spilling out, overflowing in to the rest of the day, the sphere, the small walls that contain my life. art and stockings. that's the christmas tradition. and her children are on fire with excitement and happiness for these things. these beautiful and heart-felt things. what an awesome wonder. what a gentle reminder than art matters and flourishes and that there are people who know its value, who except beauty in to their lives, who bring it home with them and cherish it and allow it to work its magic. and the last Lineage canvas at the gallery is gone. off to a new and good home. and every now and then i get to hear the stories why people buy the art they buy and most of the time it has nothing to do with whether or not it matches the couch. i am touched and humbled and full of appreciation. a woman whom i've never met took a painting home with her because it touched her heart, it "represents the under-represented" and hit very close to home, and i can't tell you how i cried to know that someone got it, saw it, knew it! that someone feels the same way, sees the same need in the world, cares for them and knows that struggle. oh, i am overflowing! i am shaken. to the red center of my heart, i shake! blessings coming in from all sides these days! everywhere! everything!
and my conversation with rebecca, full of laughter and giggling and genuine love for art and knowledge and words and connection. such an amazing gift! an amazing friend! an amazing woman who cajoles words in to music, makes them dance and cry and quake. and my heart quakes along with them. shuddering and trembling and becoming devout. poetry. and through her, her work, her generosity of spirit, her unwavering belief in the importance of words, of art, i get better. i learn and become more sensitive, more courageous, more in tune. what a gift! what a pleasure! what an undeserved, unearned miracle.
and with this comes along a little network of amazing writers. good people who are kind and humble and hard-working. good writers who spill their hearts and the pools they leave for me to fall in to are gorgeous and heart-breaking. i am, day by day, amazing by the connections that have come about by simply maintaining this blog. the unique, beautiful web of people and art that is being spun, that is growing, that gets deeper each day, more and more solid, more and more stunning, more and more important and lovely. blessings coming in from all sides, indeed!
and another rebecca got married. got a solo show. got a whole new adventure for herself lined up. i'm heading out to the city today for a slumber party/ painting session. talking and talking and talking the whole time, we two funny shut-ins. ha! and maybe we'll leave the house for a minute for food but maybe not. we'll rest in our friendship and silliness and enjoy this day together and all the wonderful moments it contains. in school, i'd always lug my paintings over to her studio so we could work together. we'll make our own little deja vu, our own cute little flash-back, blast to the past.
this year is ending on such a high note. so high, in fact, it makes me appreciate the trials that preceded it. the silver-lining is sparkling so brightly it's impossible not to gaze at it. it's impossible not to stare in to the bright core of it til my eyes well up and all i see is the tremendous wealth of things i have to be endlessly grateful for and entirely surprised by.
yesterday i shipped a drawing to a woman who buys art instead of toys for her two boys. 2 and 4 and already endowed with definite tastes! ha! and i can't tell you how much love spilled in to my heart when i learned of this sweet family. so much love it is still spilling out, overflowing in to the rest of the day, the sphere, the small walls that contain my life. art and stockings. that's the christmas tradition. and her children are on fire with excitement and happiness for these things. these beautiful and heart-felt things. what an awesome wonder. what a gentle reminder than art matters and flourishes and that there are people who know its value, who except beauty in to their lives, who bring it home with them and cherish it and allow it to work its magic. and the last Lineage canvas at the gallery is gone. off to a new and good home. and every now and then i get to hear the stories why people buy the art they buy and most of the time it has nothing to do with whether or not it matches the couch. i am touched and humbled and full of appreciation. a woman whom i've never met took a painting home with her because it touched her heart, it "represents the under-represented" and hit very close to home, and i can't tell you how i cried to know that someone got it, saw it, knew it! that someone feels the same way, sees the same need in the world, cares for them and knows that struggle. oh, i am overflowing! i am shaken. to the red center of my heart, i shake! blessings coming in from all sides these days! everywhere! everything!
and my conversation with rebecca, full of laughter and giggling and genuine love for art and knowledge and words and connection. such an amazing gift! an amazing friend! an amazing woman who cajoles words in to music, makes them dance and cry and quake. and my heart quakes along with them. shuddering and trembling and becoming devout. poetry. and through her, her work, her generosity of spirit, her unwavering belief in the importance of words, of art, i get better. i learn and become more sensitive, more courageous, more in tune. what a gift! what a pleasure! what an undeserved, unearned miracle.
and with this comes along a little network of amazing writers. good people who are kind and humble and hard-working. good writers who spill their hearts and the pools they leave for me to fall in to are gorgeous and heart-breaking. i am, day by day, amazing by the connections that have come about by simply maintaining this blog. the unique, beautiful web of people and art that is being spun, that is growing, that gets deeper each day, more and more solid, more and more stunning, more and more important and lovely. blessings coming in from all sides, indeed!
and another rebecca got married. got a solo show. got a whole new adventure for herself lined up. i'm heading out to the city today for a slumber party/ painting session. talking and talking and talking the whole time, we two funny shut-ins. ha! and maybe we'll leave the house for a minute for food but maybe not. we'll rest in our friendship and silliness and enjoy this day together and all the wonderful moments it contains. in school, i'd always lug my paintings over to her studio so we could work together. we'll make our own little deja vu, our own cute little flash-back, blast to the past.
this year is ending on such a high note. so high, in fact, it makes me appreciate the trials that preceded it. the silver-lining is sparkling so brightly it's impossible not to gaze at it. it's impossible not to stare in to the bright core of it til my eyes well up and all i see is the tremendous wealth of things i have to be endlessly grateful for and entirely surprised by.
Dec 14, 2009
new poem
that dead woman
horse hooves
and poppies
and
the color green-
my little list of your likes.
regret
and regret
and regret.
diamond-tipped.
classic.
a star left to dangle.
trash in the trees and all over the yard.
where is my wish list?
my minced oath?
trash in the trees
or stars
or poppies.
the facts got blurry and blew away.
i guard my little list-
regret
after regret
after green green regret.
smoke gives way to steam.
the white of me
running out.
hold your breath.
a star,
a closed circuit-
and wishing wishing wishing well.
trash in the trees.
a sudden green.
and the great grey hooves
of whose heavy horses
busting on through?
horse hooves
and poppies
and
the color green-
my little list of your likes.
regret
and regret
and regret.
diamond-tipped.
classic.
a star left to dangle.
trash in the trees and all over the yard.
where is my wish list?
my minced oath?
trash in the trees
or stars
or poppies.
the facts got blurry and blew away.
i guard my little list-
regret
after regret
after green green regret.
smoke gives way to steam.
the white of me
running out.
hold your breath.
a star,
a closed circuit-
and wishing wishing wishing well.
trash in the trees.
a sudden green.
and the great grey hooves
of whose heavy horses
busting on through?
ahhhhhhhh...
i can't even say much about it other than i am currently rolling around in the ecstatic warmth of entirely unexpected kindnesses and joys like a dog in the grass. rolling rolling rolling with my tongue lolling out, enjoying every second, every blade of happiness. and it shakes loose a huge tremble of gratitude. a sweeping surge that has lent me eyes to see and ears to hear and i am as wide open as a hungry baby bird, excited for everything and sucking in the cold, crisp air and the massive beauty that tumbles down, free and unrestricted, without fear or doubt. friendship and love and appreciation and art and all the gentle gentle things than creep up softly. rolling rolling rolling like a dog in the grass and i'll go on this way for as long as i can hold on to it. this weekend was the most amazing little two-day stretch i've had in years. oh, life is gorgeous sometimes.
Dec 12, 2009
hi
when it's raining outside and you get sick and tired of making pot-holders, have some emo fun with your camera! you know you've done it. we're all guilty. and besides, now you can see who's behind all this crazy bullshit. ;)
rain rain go away...
i am stuck inside today. not that i mind all that much. i'm making pot-holders. yep, pot-holders. and scribbling away and looking forward to an evening spent reading in bed. it's a lazy saturday, aided by the bad weather.
not too bad at all, actually.
not too bad at all, actually.
Dec 11, 2009
love, love, love
yes. a couple highlights here and there, softly, softly, yes, and then the below painting will done. sometimes i need to see it photographed, see it smaller, to know what it needs, what it's missing, what it's thirsty for.
the rain is here and it is dark. but today i'm thankful for it and not anxious for the clouds to move off. the bad weather brings a great many blessings sometimes- unforeseen. entirely unexpected.
today i'll stretch more canvas and line all those sweet virgins up in a row. i'm so drawn to large-scale painting right now. completely. anything smaller than 44" x 38" feels too small. not enough land. i need a large expanse of white to spill my oil on and slide and smear around, wrestle inside of, ache and moan and yell and beg.
i've had such a heavy influx of ideas lately. excited and fast and steady. it feels beautiful and i am grateful. the fertile land of fairy-tales, Alice in Wonderland, Cadaver Dogs, The Bloody Chamber, and my very own notebook have been good ground for me to stand on. i am surging. and these short days don't supply me with enough good light to cater to all my ideas and leanings and cravings, but it gives me time to sit and read and write and play inside my own imagination. and that play is where all these wonderful wants and concepts have sprung from. it makes me re-think my new year's resolution... maybe instead of a drawing a day, i'll read everyday. something new, something i've always wanted to read but didn't or couldn't. it's just such a deep, beautiful well and has always broke my mind wide open: reading.
writers have always made my life so much better, fuller, deeper, more sincere, more thoughtful, more beautiful, more.... MORE! i'm thankful for you- all your hard work and struggle and the resistance you display to the dumbing-down, fizzling out, cynical onslaught of cultural laziness and lethargy. i am indebted. quite. and so i do my best work for you in return. beyond era or circumstance or recognition, i do my best work for those who inspire it and for those whom might be inspired in kind.
the rain is here and it is dark. but today i'm thankful for it and not anxious for the clouds to move off. the bad weather brings a great many blessings sometimes- unforeseen. entirely unexpected.
today i'll stretch more canvas and line all those sweet virgins up in a row. i'm so drawn to large-scale painting right now. completely. anything smaller than 44" x 38" feels too small. not enough land. i need a large expanse of white to spill my oil on and slide and smear around, wrestle inside of, ache and moan and yell and beg.
i've had such a heavy influx of ideas lately. excited and fast and steady. it feels beautiful and i am grateful. the fertile land of fairy-tales, Alice in Wonderland, Cadaver Dogs, The Bloody Chamber, and my very own notebook have been good ground for me to stand on. i am surging. and these short days don't supply me with enough good light to cater to all my ideas and leanings and cravings, but it gives me time to sit and read and write and play inside my own imagination. and that play is where all these wonderful wants and concepts have sprung from. it makes me re-think my new year's resolution... maybe instead of a drawing a day, i'll read everyday. something new, something i've always wanted to read but didn't or couldn't. it's just such a deep, beautiful well and has always broke my mind wide open: reading.
writers have always made my life so much better, fuller, deeper, more sincere, more thoughtful, more beautiful, more.... MORE! i'm thankful for you- all your hard work and struggle and the resistance you display to the dumbing-down, fizzling out, cynical onslaught of cultural laziness and lethargy. i am indebted. quite. and so i do my best work for you in return. beyond era or circumstance or recognition, i do my best work for those who inspire it and for those whom might be inspired in kind.
Dec 10, 2009
possibly... maybe...
i'll stare at them a bit longer... a couple more days. and i might realize i'm getting ahead of myself but today, out in the cold and with the pain in my stomach, it feels complete.
somehow... a bit more somber than the others.
maybe it's the light. i'll have to snap a better picture once the sun comes back.
Lineage 5
46" x 39 3/4"
oil on canvas
angela simione, 2009
somehow... a bit more somber than the others.
maybe it's the light. i'll have to snap a better picture once the sun comes back.
Lineage 5
46" x 39 3/4"
oil on canvas
angela simione, 2009
big kid
i woke feeling raw eyed and out of sorts. a cold sweat. a headache. no no no. i am hoping that The Almighty Jog has toughened me up enough to keep the worst at bay. far at sea, actually. i hate being sick. but my sweetie is back at work today so maybe it's just one of those 24 hour things. fingers crossed, scratching itchy, dry eyes, and trying to wake up to my normal, excited and happy self. looks like another crochet day has presented itself. the jog is on hold. it's not a good idea to exercise when you're sick. or paint outside in the deathly winter cold either. i'll keep huddled up to myself and my quieter projects today. i started reading the big Hans Christian Andersen book yesterday and i fell instantly in love. his work is so sad! geez! children are supposed to listen to these stories? my my! i'd only read this stuff to a child if i wanted to make them cry! they are that sad. but beautiful and thoughtful and soft too. if you've got a collection of his work, go read "The Red Shoes" and "The Little Match-Seller". both are very short and just so wonderfully tragic.
Dec 9, 2009
and...
my favorite sight, above all others entirely, is a man sleeping. still, brow relaxed, dreaming unknown things all the while, and just so slightly, just so faint and mild- the hint of a small and boyish smile.
beautiful.
beautiful.
sick room
an hour after he walked out the door, he walked right back in. my sweetie is home sick from work today. painful puking and all. i'm trying hard to keep my distance. in spite of the icy cold, i'll do my best to stay out in the fresh air. last night i got so many ideas for new paintings. a flood of images shaken loose by all these fairy tales and i'm excited and happy and feeling playful and i have a big ol' stack of virgin canvas just waiting for a little love.
Dec 8, 2009
this day...
the trouble with winter is that the days are far too short. the sun is down and gone. 6 o'clock and already black outside. and cold.
i painted today. i crocheted beanies for me and my sweetie. i made a great big dinner and played with my dog. and now with a full belly, i'm going to crawl back in to my fleece footie pajamas, crawl in to bed, and crawl further still in to my collection of little morbid fairy-tales and nursery rhymes.
did you know that on this day 29 years ago, john lennon was murdered? i was born 3 months and 5 days earlier, robbed from the start. and i send up my small prayer for yoko and his children- that their hearts are light and singing today, full of fond remembrances and hope.
i painted today. i crocheted beanies for me and my sweetie. i made a great big dinner and played with my dog. and now with a full belly, i'm going to crawl back in to my fleece footie pajamas, crawl in to bed, and crawl further still in to my collection of little morbid fairy-tales and nursery rhymes.
did you know that on this day 29 years ago, john lennon was murdered? i was born 3 months and 5 days earlier, robbed from the start. and i send up my small prayer for yoko and his children- that their hearts are light and singing today, full of fond remembrances and hope.
good morning, indeed!
already the little one crawled out to say hi. just a quick little drawing, all in pencil.
there is no better way for a day to begin.
Alpha (study 4)
15" x 11"
graphite on paper
angela simione, 2009
there is no better way for a day to begin.
Alpha (study 4)
15" x 11"
graphite on paper
angela simione, 2009
good morning
i need to make myself a pair of mittens. the cold actually hurt me this morning when i went outside to write. in fact, i couldn't stay outside on my little stoop in front of the cottage for more than 5 minutes. and for that 5 minutes, i traded my cup of coffee back and forth between my two hands to warm them up and thaw the hurt. a hard winter has come. i knew it would. and if it's this cold at the beginning of december, january will be a horror.
yesterday after a good couple of hours painting, i rearranged the living room to use an entire wall for the maid portraits. i've got them all together and they look so beautiful. i'm seeing them with fresh eyes. even the problem child of the group (and there's always a problem child) is gorgeous and i can see the direction i must take her in. it feels good to be listening again. to work. it's the moment when i am truly myself. freedom. and love. and i wouldn't trade this job for any other. no amount of money or prestige or possession will ever seem as beautiful, as necessary as this work. nothing could lure me away. this is my life. and it's all i want.
yesterday after a good couple of hours painting, i rearranged the living room to use an entire wall for the maid portraits. i've got them all together and they look so beautiful. i'm seeing them with fresh eyes. even the problem child of the group (and there's always a problem child) is gorgeous and i can see the direction i must take her in. it feels good to be listening again. to work. it's the moment when i am truly myself. freedom. and love. and i wouldn't trade this job for any other. no amount of money or prestige or possession will ever seem as beautiful, as necessary as this work. nothing could lure me away. this is my life. and it's all i want.
Dec 7, 2009
so there!
the weatherman has been proven to be a charlatan and a liar. at least today. snow. thpbbb! right. lies. all lies! fantasy-land and LIES! and me with my hopes all up even though i know better. ha! the sky is bright and blue. the sun up and shining. the clouds are white and fluffy. it's cold cold cold but it looks like spring. and so i obeyed The Almighty Jog. inga, such a devote disciple, barked and rolled around when she realized her mama was un-resigning herself to a day spent holed up indoors. my paintings have been moved outside in to the fresh and true light. i will be good. i know that the time is here when i must make the most of my beautiful days. soon, they will be sparse and then, i'll be a hermit once again. a winter shut-in who waits on the mail-lady and drinks too much coffee and wears mittens all day long and reads fairy-tales while the rest of the world spins and spins out in the cold white day. not me. i've got big plans this winter. the best of which is to keep warm.
HEY ALANNA!
remember that night up at mary's house, all drunk and dumb and fun and me and tom and kara ganged up on you to tell you how beautiful you are? remember? :) something in me suddenly crashed around just now and i thought that today, as the wind and rain pour in to portland, that it may in fact be a day where a reminder of that night would be nice. or maybe just a sentimentality in me to let you know that i remember it and that it holds true today, right now, this very second. absolutely beautiful, dear friend. absolutely. so here it is- a very public reminder. ha! i miss you dear friend and am so glad for your happiness.
love
angela
love
angela
the impossible...
there are whisperings of a rare california snow...
the sky has gone completely white. i am anxious, excited as a child at the prospect of such a strange happening. but the rain from the great storm has not yet arrived, though both the weather channel and the neighbors assure me it will. and so i wait... coffee in hand, two pairs of socks on, and two sweaters. it is cold cold cold. and i may end up being reduced to a TV workout today. bouncing around hideously, embarrassingly, in the living room and inga wondering what the hell is going on. ha!
the vineyard feels so far away in this weather. remote and unwelcoming. or maybe it's the fact that, here, i have the heater going full blast and a notebook to day-dream in and a snoring dog that makes me smile. warm and safe and needless. i have christmas presents to make. a late start, for sure, but it's still possible to get them done in time. the weather might ensure that i have no other distraction, no other choice. ;)
the sky has gone completely white. i am anxious, excited as a child at the prospect of such a strange happening. but the rain from the great storm has not yet arrived, though both the weather channel and the neighbors assure me it will. and so i wait... coffee in hand, two pairs of socks on, and two sweaters. it is cold cold cold. and i may end up being reduced to a TV workout today. bouncing around hideously, embarrassingly, in the living room and inga wondering what the hell is going on. ha!
the vineyard feels so far away in this weather. remote and unwelcoming. or maybe it's the fact that, here, i have the heater going full blast and a notebook to day-dream in and a snoring dog that makes me smile. warm and safe and needless. i have christmas presents to make. a late start, for sure, but it's still possible to get them done in time. the weather might ensure that i have no other distraction, no other choice. ;)
Dec 6, 2009
Blackland
the soft alarm of feathers falling will point you out
clear as North. we have vultures here,
a willing rottweiler. every stiff hair
a trigger. a black that waits to spring.
the vines twist and we taste
your scent on the sticks.
we will see you before you see us.
stranger.
clear as North. we have vultures here,
a willing rottweiler. every stiff hair
a trigger. a black that waits to spring.
the vines twist and we taste
your scent on the sticks.
we will see you before you see us.
stranger.
Dec 4, 2009
the perils of the used bookstore
yesterday was grey almost all day long. little flashes of sun here and there but mostly just grey grey grey. and i had to get out of the house so i did and i went to the oddities shop and looked around but everything was too expensive to bring home so then i went on down the road to the used bookstore.
my new strange education in fairy tales has got quite a hold on me and i realized that i never read fairy tales as a child. never. and so i went to the children's books aisle and stayed there for a long, long time. i ended up finding a very old and quirky copy of Hans Christian Andersen's fairy tales and put it under my arm as i made my way to the literature section. there were two young men there. they came nearer to where i was browsing and started talking all pompous like, dropping big words and critiquing Dickens. it was all pretty sickening and obnoxious and i thought there must be a girl in here they're trying to impress. and then they started talking about the importance of poetry - the aisle i had moved in to with my children's book under my arm - and the one said to the other that "as strange as it may sound, my favorite poet is Shell Silverstien..." and i realized right then that the girl they were trying to impress was me! ahhhhhhhhhhhhh! i got so uncomfortable! ack! no!!!! i hate that shit! i really really do! i mean, i did look pretty stylish yesterday. i was wearing my "i love you but..." banner and black velvet pea-coat but come on! i'm buying a children's book for christsake! how in the world is that hot? i mean, i suppose it could be intriguing but.... nah, not really. just horny dudes who think big words impress little girls with long hair and blah blah blah. word to the wise, guys, that shit doesn't work. save it for the classroom or other appropriate venues where inflated vocabulary fits right in. but using words like "morose" and "debauched" and going on and on and on about how boring Moby Dick is and creeping closer and closer to the lone woman in the poetry aisle is OBNOXIOUS AND CREEPY! even if i were single, these two dudes wouldn't stand a chance. gross! and i say that without even knowing what they look like. i didn't dare make eye contact with this pair. they were getting way too close to me and i wasn't about to encourage their pathetically horny behavior with even the quickest of glances. they were actually hovering. not smooth, guys. not smooth. this is what happens when i go out in public with my hair down. serves me right- how frivolous of me to go out scouting for fairy tales with my hair down! hahahaha!
anyway, they eventually left and i was free to lose another hour reading the backs of books comfortably. i think i've grown so accustomed to living in the countryside that unwelcomed human contact with anyone gives me the creeps and shivers.
but Grey Thursday is gone and i successfully side-stepped the walking erections that lurk inside the used bookstore. the sun is out and shining and The Almighty Jog awaits. i've been playing with my poems all morning and feel happy and satisfied and eager to get back to work. my maids are still speaking to me, giving orders and telling me what they need. i pray the good light holds so that i can answer their beautiful, beautiful call.
good morning!
my new strange education in fairy tales has got quite a hold on me and i realized that i never read fairy tales as a child. never. and so i went to the children's books aisle and stayed there for a long, long time. i ended up finding a very old and quirky copy of Hans Christian Andersen's fairy tales and put it under my arm as i made my way to the literature section. there were two young men there. they came nearer to where i was browsing and started talking all pompous like, dropping big words and critiquing Dickens. it was all pretty sickening and obnoxious and i thought there must be a girl in here they're trying to impress. and then they started talking about the importance of poetry - the aisle i had moved in to with my children's book under my arm - and the one said to the other that "as strange as it may sound, my favorite poet is Shell Silverstien..." and i realized right then that the girl they were trying to impress was me! ahhhhhhhhhhhhh! i got so uncomfortable! ack! no!!!! i hate that shit! i really really do! i mean, i did look pretty stylish yesterday. i was wearing my "i love you but..." banner and black velvet pea-coat but come on! i'm buying a children's book for christsake! how in the world is that hot? i mean, i suppose it could be intriguing but.... nah, not really. just horny dudes who think big words impress little girls with long hair and blah blah blah. word to the wise, guys, that shit doesn't work. save it for the classroom or other appropriate venues where inflated vocabulary fits right in. but using words like "morose" and "debauched" and going on and on and on about how boring Moby Dick is and creeping closer and closer to the lone woman in the poetry aisle is OBNOXIOUS AND CREEPY! even if i were single, these two dudes wouldn't stand a chance. gross! and i say that without even knowing what they look like. i didn't dare make eye contact with this pair. they were getting way too close to me and i wasn't about to encourage their pathetically horny behavior with even the quickest of glances. they were actually hovering. not smooth, guys. not smooth. this is what happens when i go out in public with my hair down. serves me right- how frivolous of me to go out scouting for fairy tales with my hair down! hahahaha!
anyway, they eventually left and i was free to lose another hour reading the backs of books comfortably. i think i've grown so accustomed to living in the countryside that unwelcomed human contact with anyone gives me the creeps and shivers.
but Grey Thursday is gone and i successfully side-stepped the walking erections that lurk inside the used bookstore. the sun is out and shining and The Almighty Jog awaits. i've been playing with my poems all morning and feel happy and satisfied and eager to get back to work. my maids are still speaking to me, giving orders and telling me what they need. i pray the good light holds so that i can answer their beautiful, beautiful call.
good morning!
Dec 3, 2009
windless.
first thing, i looked up to that little window to see if the big face of the moon would shine through but there was no moon this black morning. none. gone. only the strange black that sighs and goes blue. and for the first time in my life, i missed the moon. it is a thing i've never given much thought or time. i have never admired it or believed in it, never thought its pull extended to me. but this morning, i felt lonely without it and the early air seemed too still, too quiet. aching. windless.
but now the odd periwinkle is up and glittering. a veil. a fish belly. and inga snores in the big red chair. the traffic on the highway is thin. thursday already. the days are short and quick. they resist my desires and i have only so much time. and so i scribble scribble scribble to pin myself down, to build a little world with my own moving hand. my ink spilled- a world in black and white and the shade in between. beautiful, odd things. austere and shining and soft. tiny golden shimmers in the cracks and black apples falling falling falling...
yesterday on my vineyard run, i came to the place at the far edge where the dead river is, disappeared since summer, and three huge vultures were lined up on the stakes at the end of the vineyard aisles. a forth flapped soundlessly in a wide circle over head. there was no sound. no whisper. mute feathers. i wondered if i should be afraid. inga's ears and tail went up and she watched them. but the vultures just sat and stared with their backs to us. we passed by in our clumsy, bouncing stride and they never once paid us any mind at all. and on the way out, we detoured and ran down a wide aisle where the vines had not been cut down yet. tiny blue birds shot out from the rows, the same purpley blue of the grapes. flashing flashing in the hard light. sapphires, sparking and spinning.
winter has arrived.
it is full-blown.
but now the odd periwinkle is up and glittering. a veil. a fish belly. and inga snores in the big red chair. the traffic on the highway is thin. thursday already. the days are short and quick. they resist my desires and i have only so much time. and so i scribble scribble scribble to pin myself down, to build a little world with my own moving hand. my ink spilled- a world in black and white and the shade in between. beautiful, odd things. austere and shining and soft. tiny golden shimmers in the cracks and black apples falling falling falling...
yesterday on my vineyard run, i came to the place at the far edge where the dead river is, disappeared since summer, and three huge vultures were lined up on the stakes at the end of the vineyard aisles. a forth flapped soundlessly in a wide circle over head. there was no sound. no whisper. mute feathers. i wondered if i should be afraid. inga's ears and tail went up and she watched them. but the vultures just sat and stared with their backs to us. we passed by in our clumsy, bouncing stride and they never once paid us any mind at all. and on the way out, we detoured and ran down a wide aisle where the vines had not been cut down yet. tiny blue birds shot out from the rows, the same purpley blue of the grapes. flashing flashing in the hard light. sapphires, sparking and spinning.
winter has arrived.
it is full-blown.
Dec 2, 2009
all the morning
outside with my notebook and coffee this morning on my cold little stoop, the moon was white and full in the little window between the tall trees. i'd never seen it there in the morning before. the earth has spun now, i suppose, now that it is winter. and that morning moon was full and gleaming. bright white. a chill came down and my breath went white as well.
the roast is roasting. the coffee is brewed. and the smells made my dreams strange this morning while i was curled up waiting for my hazelnut. i drempt i was very fat. not in my face but as my eyes crept down the length of my body, my body got larger and larger and dimpled and puckered. the largeness of the moon reminded me with all its pits and pools. i was not afraid in my dream or angry or repulsed. i just looked at myself in the mirror and smiled at my naked reflection and then i woke up.
and then i sat and watched the moon dip down as i scribbled and scribbled in my new notebook. its window wide and open but she slipped low behind the black curtain of tangled branches and thin leaves and needles. edging down. bashful. guarded. the sky moved from indigo to prussian blue to my beloved and dusty cornflower and, now, the pale blue of certain dogs eyes.
most of the names i use for colors come from paint tubes and crayons.
and again last night, we curled up in bed, safe and silent and turned our pages. a soft moment shared. i read two more shorts in "The Bloody Chamber" and one from "Rose Red". sinister fairy-tales. adult, dark, and devoid of the 'happily ever afters'. there is blood and corrupt virgins, stealthy in their knowledge of men. and Alice runs and jumps inside my brain somewhere; playing games and arguing with herself, two people at once, pretending and dreaming and talking talking talking. such a chatter-box little girl. just like i was. just like i am. my first true sentence was, "mama, let me tell you something". and Alice is not at all embarrassed. i like that her favorite thing is to talk to herself. little quizzical day-dreamer, little daffodil.
my faceless maids are waiting for me. our relationship is in reverse- they give me the instructions and they've started talking again. side by side, three large canvasses against the white wall, enjoyably haunting my home. titanium white and mars black and german earth and sepia and ivory white. oh, they are lovely and i miss them already even though they aren't even finished yet. my loves! my lovely, lovely ladies! if i could be as beautiful.
the roast is roasting. the coffee is brewed. and the smells made my dreams strange this morning while i was curled up waiting for my hazelnut. i drempt i was very fat. not in my face but as my eyes crept down the length of my body, my body got larger and larger and dimpled and puckered. the largeness of the moon reminded me with all its pits and pools. i was not afraid in my dream or angry or repulsed. i just looked at myself in the mirror and smiled at my naked reflection and then i woke up.
and then i sat and watched the moon dip down as i scribbled and scribbled in my new notebook. its window wide and open but she slipped low behind the black curtain of tangled branches and thin leaves and needles. edging down. bashful. guarded. the sky moved from indigo to prussian blue to my beloved and dusty cornflower and, now, the pale blue of certain dogs eyes.
most of the names i use for colors come from paint tubes and crayons.
and again last night, we curled up in bed, safe and silent and turned our pages. a soft moment shared. i read two more shorts in "The Bloody Chamber" and one from "Rose Red". sinister fairy-tales. adult, dark, and devoid of the 'happily ever afters'. there is blood and corrupt virgins, stealthy in their knowledge of men. and Alice runs and jumps inside my brain somewhere; playing games and arguing with herself, two people at once, pretending and dreaming and talking talking talking. such a chatter-box little girl. just like i was. just like i am. my first true sentence was, "mama, let me tell you something". and Alice is not at all embarrassed. i like that her favorite thing is to talk to herself. little quizzical day-dreamer, little daffodil.
my faceless maids are waiting for me. our relationship is in reverse- they give me the instructions and they've started talking again. side by side, three large canvasses against the white wall, enjoyably haunting my home. titanium white and mars black and german earth and sepia and ivory white. oh, they are lovely and i miss them already even though they aren't even finished yet. my loves! my lovely, lovely ladies! if i could be as beautiful.
Dec 1, 2009
day one
it is the first day of the last month of the year. bright and cold and all my newly found fairy-tales at the ready. i finished "Through the Looking-Glass" last night and two more short-stories in "The Bloody Chamber". i went to bed with a head full of ideas but can't remember any dreams. i woke up feeling easy and happy.
i wrote all morning long and found the end of the hand-made notebook. 7 days and it is filled. that won't cut it. and i saw this coming the other day when i ran passed the half-way mark and decided to go back to my beloved black and white speckled composition books. i have a new stack now and the first page of the first in the stack has already been kissed and scribbled on. an old, thrift-store valentine taped to the front cover.
i wrote and wanted to stay in one place all day long, rolling in the ink but i caught myself and checked the clock, found my sports bra, and ran through the big vineyard. they are pruning the vines today. cutting their tops off. the remaining grapes, crushed in the narrow aisles, smelled warm and sweet as cookies. i took my time and ran a bit further than i usually do. inga is sleeping now, worn out, and i am on my 2nd pot of coffee.
the light is good and clear. i will bundle up and get my brush. there is oil to work.
i wrote all morning long and found the end of the hand-made notebook. 7 days and it is filled. that won't cut it. and i saw this coming the other day when i ran passed the half-way mark and decided to go back to my beloved black and white speckled composition books. i have a new stack now and the first page of the first in the stack has already been kissed and scribbled on. an old, thrift-store valentine taped to the front cover.
i wrote and wanted to stay in one place all day long, rolling in the ink but i caught myself and checked the clock, found my sports bra, and ran through the big vineyard. they are pruning the vines today. cutting their tops off. the remaining grapes, crushed in the narrow aisles, smelled warm and sweet as cookies. i took my time and ran a bit further than i usually do. inga is sleeping now, worn out, and i am on my 2nd pot of coffee.
the light is good and clear. i will bundle up and get my brush. there is oil to work.
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