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.

Jan 7, 2011

3 days

yesterday morning, before leaving to go watch the gallery, i bought my plane ticket. i have 3 days to wait. 3 days to get as much work finished as i can before going to tennessee to see my mom. it is down to that. this is not a freak-out. it's time. and i can't tell you how bad and sick my heart feels. it's hard to do anything. but i feel so much lighter since buying the ticket and making a plan. in 3 days i can hold her. 3 days. 3 days.

i'll be gone about a week and will spend as much time hugging her and looking at her as i can.

i have buried myself in books and crochet. i am making red roses this time. blood roses maybe. i don't know what they are or what to call them just yet... only that they save me. they hold me together. red roses twisted between my fingers and the novels of Jean Rhys digested one after the other. i'm on 'Quartet' now.

a boy came in the gallery yesterday and spent a long time staring at the Worry Roses. he was maybe 20 or 21. i didn't interrupt him. he pulled a small notepad out of his bag and copied down the information about the piece from the tag on the wall. after awhile, i asked him if he had any questions and he came and sat by me in the enormous window at the front of the gallery. he started talking about the roses and choked on his words when he said: that piece... standing in front of it, i just got so sad. could you tell me about it? his eyes seemed wet and i was so struck by his emotion. a total stranger. what a huge gift that was for me. tremendous.

we sat in the window and talked for about 10 minutes and then he was on his way. we shook hands and smiled at each other. it was a very lucky moment.

Worry Roses (for my mother, for myself)
dimensions variable
300 crochet units


it's weird... the piece doesn't photograph well. it looks so small in these pictures but in real life it's huge. it's enveloping. a big embrace.


Radish King said...

I got your beauty o beauty care package today and what a rare gift. I will write about it tomorrow on my blog when I have more energy. To me there is nothing better than to have someone respond emotionally to my art. What a gift that you got to watch this man fall under your spell your honesty and spirit your Truth.

I will be thinking of you the next few days. I am so sorry that you have to suffer this go through this live through this My love to you and your mama.

angela simione said...

thank you, my lovely friend. your pressence is indeed a warm blanket. i am sorry too. thank you for being there.

it was a rare gift, for sure, this boy who stumbled across my path. his eyes, wet like mine, face beginning to flush. a connection. beautiful.

i hope you like the stuff. it is not THE carepackage, just A carepackage. ;)

Kate Zambreno said...

dear dear angela - i was thinking about you today and so came here to see how everything is going. you're in tennessee now. i'm imagining. still. my heart goes out to you and your mom and your family - don't hesitate to contact or at least know i am there for you thinking of you. i'm so sorry you have to go through this.

angela simione said...



thank you.