there are blessings everywhere. even in this pain. i am reminded of the very first injury- it was then that i picked up my dusty crochet hook and taught myself the bastard stitch. it was then that i began to lean on text and textile rather than oil. it was then that i learned how to be patient- a hard task for such an eager girl. this past week, i had to learn it all over again.
it's not easy for me to be cooped up. for as much as i may enjoy my solitude, it is only because my life is generally very busy. my days careen by in a fantastic parade of images and sounds, a whirlwind of restaurant life, art life, and romantic intrigue. my long mornings at home before work have become so precious to me and i am possessive of them. the hours i spend sipping coffee, writing, and listening to music as i leisurely get dressed are prized. my days off are spent primarily at home. i am stingy with my free time as that is really the only time i have to become deeply involved in my projects. this past week though, i actually had time to read again. i pulled IN MEMORIAM TO IDENTITY by Kathy Acker from my shelf, lay down on my stomach with an icepack on my lower back, and read until the narcotic bliss of the Norco i'd popped swept me away in to a crazy menagerie of chemically fueled dreams. actually quite a wonderful way to spend an afternoon. one must look for the pleasures within the agony in this type of situation. :)
slowly, i'm bouncing back. i could walk today with just a hint of a limp. i couldn't walk at my normal quick clip but i could walk. that's truly all that matters.
now, laying on an icepack again in bed, smiling to myself as i realize it is friday night and most other people i know are excitedly hurrying off to enjoy whatever revelry awaits in this wide city, i am content to spend the evening at home with my work.
earlier today, i shipped two crochet pieces to Darger HQ for next month's show and then spent a few hours leafing through old portfolios of my drawings, work i haven't viewed in close to three years. i smiled to myself as their graphite edges dirtied my hands. i smiled and thought, "geez... maybe i am a pretty good artist after all."
all week i've returned, over and over again, to the knowledge that art is truly what my life is about and that i should never allow myself to become blind to or distant from that fact. it's easy to get wrapped up in work and saving money and making plans for the future without stopping to think about the REAL work i do: the art. maybe because i've spent the last 2 years working primarily on the street, it's easy for me to forget the old dreams of attending residencies and submitting work to shows, magazines, etc. it's easy to fall out of that particular loop when one no longer pays any attention to things like deadlines. for awhile, i didn't miss it. in fact, i liked not being a part of it. i liked having a break from all that worry and struggle. it was important to me to separate myself from those ambitions because they had been so intertwined with the life i led in my last relationship. i didn't want to think of those goals and i didn't want to look at the work i made during that time. especially during the last few years. the pain and isolation i felt during that time was too easily awakened. it sat so plainly on the surface of all my drawings. it was so obvious. i couldn't do anything but tuck them safely away in portfolios to be stacked in the back of my closet. i needed to make a new life.
but lately, i've been thinking of those dreams again. i'm excited about next month's show- to have work in a gallery space again, to see how it interacts with the work of other artists, to see how it looks surrounded by white. and looking at my old drawings today made me want to show them too. but more than that, it made me want to draw again.
and i look forward to being totally sideswiped by it. i look forward to seeing what images arrive first. tonight, it is enough just to listen to the click of the keys beneath my fingers and the train in the distance. tonight, it is enough to dream again, to hunger after these things. tonight, it is enough to lay in bed on an icepack and crochet. this gentleness is its own type of luxury. quiet and unassuming and hidden from the eyes of the world, i lay below an open window and knot thread in to lace, and feel happy about the future.
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.