in spite of the heat, my summer is done. a new semester has found me and i return to my previous loves. i return to German with such an open, bleeding heart. i've missed her sounds, her sharp corners, her purrs and rumbles. she is such a gorgeous mystery. and infuriating.
the summer was spent in a mad swirl of work, work, work, and late nights dancing and drinking. i needed the reprieve of sweat and music. i needed the thump of dance beats to set my heart right. i needed the greyhounds. i needed to back away from even the smallest public expression of my self and what my days are like. i needed to confine my emotions and thoughts to my diary. i needed the freedom to be crass and unruly, mean even. i needed the privacy of blue lined pages. i needed to be alone with my ink. it's been good to take a step back from my online life. it's actually already been 6 months since i kept up this blog in any type of regular way. i once had so many rules about writing here. it was a Practice. but then i came to a place where i just couldn't live below the weight of rules. i needed some sort of buffer between myself and my expectations of what an artist is, what a writer is, and who gets to carry such titles. i needed to figure out for myself what i was okay with inserting into the public sphere and what i wanted to keep private. i'm still unsure about what i want to offer up but joining the dialogue is a necessity. i had to cocoon myself for awhile. i've been deeply engaged with building an entirely new life for myself. but 6 months in, i crave the company of certain work i was doing before i threw my life in to the air. i crave a return to the activy and buzz of art and communication. i don't want to spend long nights at the bar, i long for late nights spent alone with my books. i long for late nights spent basking in the glow of this white rectangle, typing typing typing and sending up my little flags of hope. maybe even tremendous flags of rage.
because i exiled myself from the internet for so long, i didn't learn of Pussy Riot until a few short weeks ago. i read the three women's closing statements last night after i got home from work. they are currently sitting in jail cells, sentenced to 2 years in prison, for making an anti-Putin art action in Russia. they have been made an example of. it is heinous and i tremble with anger. i don't even know how to articulate my feelings about this yet. i am shocked. i am disgusted. i am totally disappointed and abhorred. but i am also totally inspired by these women. i am inspired as an artist and as a feminist. it is so sad to see such brave innocents stripped of their freedom this way and to be punished for making art that matters. but i am encouraged by their bravery. i am so grateful for the example that ideas and words and art really can change the world. art and words can still cause the corrupt powers to sweat fearfully and i fucking love that. art can still be an impetus. art can still be a the strongest weapon one can wield. art can still be a shelter for the oppressed. art can still enrage everyone. art can still awaken an unknowable passion in each one of us. i will need to read and re-read the statements again. they are gorgeous and brave and necessary. i must ingest the words again and again until i am able to regurgitate some sort of understanding of this insanity and formulate a response. because no matter how obscure an artist may be, this is an attack on each one of us and we all must make some sort of response. and let us also not pretend that this isn't an attack on feminism and woman-kind in general. bad girls who talk back do not go unpunished. take note.
6 months ago i chose a very particular form of freedom, a very particular independance. it was more frightening than i can say but it has also been the greatest gift. i am entirely different now. stronger than i thought i was and happier as a result of this knowledge. i literally have a room of my own and it is a space that i cherish above all others. it is my Freedom. here, i make whatever art i choose. i write and write and write. i can dance and i can cry. i do not have to edit anything. i do not have to quell my emotion. i can once again be openly passionate. i am never silenced here. i am never afraid of my own self or my own expressions. the "inner freedom" that Pussy Riot speaks of is something that stings my heart. my love of this freedom is beyond words as is my love for these women.
the closing statements are here. beautiful and entirely necessary.
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.