i've been making moths all morning. more more more. and flipping through my new kiki smith books and i came across this quote-
Prints mimic what we are as humans: we are all the same and yet every one is different. I also thinks there's a spiritual power in repetition, a devotional quality, like saying rosaries.
Kiki Smith, 1998
from Prints, Books & Things
and all these little moths are made with a wood cut i did a couple years ago. i thought of it as a butterfly at the time... moving toward 'the feminine' and looking for ways to not feel embarrassed by feminine things, feminine urges or interests. and the more i look at kiki smith's work, i see her embracing feminine attributes and gestures in such an eloquent and unapologetic way... and it is very comforting. it is wholly inspiring.
and this idea of repetition is something i've had in my mind and work for a long time... wanting to repeat certain ideas, phrases, gestures, images... to build series of work that somehow hold hands with other series. this devotional quality she sees... i see it and feel it as well. and i've stumbled in to a time in life where this quality of devotion, of hope, is very much needed and appreciated and captivating for me.
making these little moths... this symbol of fragility, of mortality... i don't know what to say other than it feels like praying. little prayer flags fluttering out from me, from my fingers, and they are gone in an instant... maybe even answered in an instant.
last night, my sweetie and i were talking about art and i told him that i have hundreds of ideas for paintings and drawings and weird little sculptures and so i don't know how to choose just a few. and he said that he's always noticed that i'm at my best, that my practice flourishes, when i'm moving in a hundred directions at once... when i'm working in a way that isn't quite so spelled-out, more of a free association, bouncing back and forth between seemingly disparate images and ideas... in truth, they all fit wonderfully together underneath the same black umbrella.
it all comes down to something i've been talking about a lot lately- the ability to trust one's self. that courage.
that way of working, of moving back and forth between the maids and elsie and the anonymous girls and little kookie alice drawings and The Good Daughter series and apron portraits and now moths... it seems so natural and fluid. i don't know how i got it stuck in my head that i have to focus on one thing at one time. i've never worked that way and when i've tried, i get stuck and lost and the work itself suffers so horribly.
and so i've decided that i must somehow find a way to stop worrying and just go go go. art has no set definition. there isn't one way to do it. there is not one road to choose. all these images circle back around and influence one another, compliment one another, make each other stronger. and then the poems well up out of nowhere, another avenue of this devotion, another way of making a prayer, making a flag, making anything.
everything, all of it, is hinged. it is all my practice.
go go go.
22" x 30"
mixed media on paper
angela simione, 2010
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.