listening to The Smiths and enjoying a spectacularly poured greyhound here in my white room (zum wohl!) with a burning shoulder from spending the last several hours hunched over a painting. these text pieces look so simple but a tremendous amount of labor actually goes in to them. all my work seems to be that way. my friend Lea once said "your work is so devotional". her comment has stuck with me.
i am a devotee, to be sure, but devoted to what? the rules change quicker than i can name them. it's gotten to the point where i no longer care about rules at all. this damn inner compass of mine gives me enough trouble. i've made a point of ignoring it lately and just leaving myself open to the strange throes of exploration. how else will i know what i'm made of? how else will i know anything? how else will make art? risk, as such, is a definite necessity. i've felt so scared of so much for so long. i've felt afraid of being myself. but i'm at the point now where feeling afraid of something actually becomes the reason to explore that particular something or do that particular something or cultivate an environment where i have to somehow explore the fear. fear becomes the reason for a lot of things these days but never not to do something.
funny enough, the result is that one begins to be afraid of very little. maybe i am devoted to the questions? maybe i am devoted to the attempt? to understand anything. to understand one's self.
am i getting too philosophic? is it too late for that? wait, it's friday night/saturday morning. it's not too late for anything! and aside from that, it's never too late for philosophy! philosophy is a necessity. it's right up there with food and air. so let's get philosophic. tell me your secrets and what the fuck you expect out of this life. the clock is ticking, friend. get on it. fear is a reason to DO IT. i look at this body of mine and i watch it dying. people think i'm so much younger than i am. in some ways, they're right. in some ways i am much younger than i actually am. but i am watching this body age, for however imperceptible that may be to others, and it is a huge motivating force in my life. i look at myself and i see my mama somewhere under this skin. her genetics, her softness, her absolute kindness...
talking about her makes me want to cry and marry the first person who will ask me. our fairy tales are hard at work in me too, i promise, i've just decided to ignore that shit and hold out for the best. or atleast the most honest expression of self i can manage.
but my mother... she's dead. and i feel her beauty everyday. it is such a deep pain. i try to think of my life along the same lines of hers. i ask myself "what if you die at 55, kid?"
and so: i bought a ticket back to new york. 7 weeks to go, friends. 7 weeks. and this time i plan to go all alone. i will walk and walk and walk and see as much art as i can. i will write in the bars and cafes. i'll do things that i am afraid of doing. it matters. i plan to move there in the spring. i have 6 months to save as much money as i can but, regardless, i'm going. even if i end up arriving penniless, i'm going. this next trip back is more about exploring what daily life would be like rather than being on vacation. i re-read my NY diary tonight over sushi at my favorite oaktown sushi bar and recalled how instantly at home i felt in that city. god, it overtook me. i loved it the second i saw it. i loved it the entire time i was there. i was heartbroken at the thought of leaving. my last day in NY was a rough one. i really didn't want to leave. it took all i had not to cancel my flight. it really did. i have to go back and let her have her way with me. i have to follow my own trembling, romantic, boisterous heart. our time is too short.
but let's not get too serious. the brevity of our moment is also a reason to participate in exquisite simplicities and sensual pleasures. i'd like to offer a very loud and public THANK YOU to Lady Gaga for making my life infinitely better by making me smell this fucking fantastic! her perfume is amazing. seriously. i test drove it at Lord & Taylor in manhattan but waited til i got home to buy it. i've already spritzed an inch of the stuff and i've only had it a week. good thing i bought the big bottle.
and speaking of Lady Gaga, there's this really special thing i keep resisting making mention of here: jack halberstam's new book GAGA FEMINISM. oh looky, looky! whose image is that on the cover? awwww shit!!! yep, you guessed it! yours truly! and i am absolutely honored! SO HONORED to have been asked by such a thoughtful and exciting theorist as Jack to use one of my drawings on the cover of this book! and also SO HONORED to participate in the feminist/queer discussions of our age. it's a major feather in my cap that jack liked this drawing. period. and i am absolutely honored to, by proxy, engage with Gaga's discussion of identity. i am a lucky bitch, to say the least.
and if you are at all wavering on whether or not to buy this book, don't! it is spectacularly written! i'm only about half way through and i am IN LOVE! GET IT! GET IT! GET IT!!!!! you definitely won't regret it.
and now back to painting and drinking greyhounds.
all my love,
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.