last week was a weird week. a weird week rife with weird feelings and weird dreams and weird weird weird.
i filed away the drawings that have returned to me and that was weird. i left them out for a few days when i first brought them home, wrapped up in plastic sheets, gleaming, lying on their backs. a big oil painting and a fence in a frame are leaning against my bookcase. weird weird weird. to see this work again... some of which i haven't seen in the flesh in a year. weird to have it in my hands. and, that big distance of time sweeps something out of eyes and i can look at them as if i didn't make them... as if it isn't my work. and i can see how good and true they are. but it's a weird, slightly sick feeling to have them here: like i'm a bad mama who failed at finding them their new, perfect home. filing them away in one of the many huge portfolios here at home was a sad moment. i took my time about it, looked at each one, loved each one, slid them in with their sisters and clicked off the light.
weird.
but it's alright. i'm in one of those "transitional" phases and i need time with the work. time to sit with them and see them all rounded up together. see the line they draw. the lineage, the path. see the direction they point. it's no good to rush work out of the house. it really isn't. it's all anxiety and fear and perfectionism and that is definitely definitely definitely bad for an art practice. definitely. i've learned it the hard way.
the lesson isn't a fun one but it is bitterly, beautifully necessary: the value of patience and dedication and not getting in the horrible pattern of RUSH RUSH RUSH. the result is such a terrible loneliness. such a terrible wandering in the dark. such a terrible blinding wind. this time last year i sat in this exact same spot and wondered (in a very painful way) who the hell i am as an artist and as a person. i believed that these titles should be separate, individual, split. and now, a year later, i know there is no way to separate these things. like Popeye, "i am what i am and that's all that i am". and i've chosen to embrace that. i've chosen to let myself flourish and flounder and flail and fail if i need to. especially in the Beckett sense of the word:
FAIL BETTER.
Showing posts with label artist. Show all posts
Showing posts with label artist. Show all posts
Aug 22, 2010
Dec 20, 2009
a decade ends... it's a biggun!
with the New Year coming up quick, i think it's time for us all to sing our own praises for a minute. it's a good time to reflect, for as ritualistic as it may seem (besides, i like rituals), and see how far we've come, the strides we've made, and the people we've become.
in spite of economic hardship and all the up-hill battles we've been faced with, there is goodness all around us. i want to hear your story, the lessons you've learned, and the things you hold dear. post a link in the comments section if you undertake this biggun. i want to know. and if you can make it through this lengthy post, here's mine:
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
yesterday, i talked with my mom about how fast the last 5 years have went by... the entire decade actually. the 2000's are a bit of a blur. and if someone had told me, on the eve of 2000, where i'd be 10 years later i wouldn't have believed any of it. in spite of the hardships of the last two years (which seems to be a fairly universal complaint and not at all specific or individual to me), the decade itself has been pretty amazing. a time of flux and seemingly constant re-evaluation, hard work, and learning how to put blue jeans on my dreams. a time of learning and renewal, consideration, thoughtfulness, and determination.
10 years ago my biggest dream was to get out of my home town. i call it my home town only because, through all the moving, it's the place i kept ending back up. and each return to that place was sour, disappointing, heart-breaking even. it's one of those places where even the young people say "no one ever gets out" and tell you to your face that your aspirations are stupid. getting out was priority number one... the hardest one. and i knew that school would be my ticket out.
i took classes, in between holding 2 jobs, at the local community college for 7 long years, well beyond what it took to transfer to a university because the money was just simply not there. but i wanted to keep in practice with attending classes and doing homework and being dedicated. i knew when i turned 25, the policies of the financial aid department shifted in my favor. so i bided my time until then and decided i'd learn as much as i could and "bloom where i was planted". a bitter resignation at the time but well worth the wait. i showed in bars and co-ops and started building a little art community of my own. i worked my ass off and practiced patience... and looking back, the struggle to get to art-school made the experience of going so much more magical and important than it would've been had it come to me easily. i wouldn't have appreciated it had i gotten to go when i was 18 or 19 years old. and i wouldn't be making the work i'm making now.
learning how to work hard, how to keep trying in spite of the hardships you face and the mean jokes that get made, was the best lesson i've ever learned. and i've learned it so deeply that giving up is never an option. i don't even think that way. trying is a constant in my life. it is ingrained. nay-sayers don't do me any damage at this point at all. i tune them out and keep on moving.
learning how to shrug off the ill will of others and how to keep working in moments of doubt and chaos served me well once i finally got to my dream school. especially that first year of insanely hard critiques and working full time while carrying a full class load. i won't say there weren't moments when i was amazingly unsure of myself and deeply depressed and questioned my ability to even pull the whole thing off - there was - but i wasn't about to stop trying. i knew before i got to CCA that once i got there, the real work would begin. and it did. i'm so lucky that my sweetie and i had found each other by then and had already made the commitment to help each other through roughness and disappointment. he encouraged me and showcased faith in my abilities in moments when i needed it the most and, at times, seemed to believe in the value of art more than i did.
in my second year, i hit my stride and made another goal that seemed out of bounds and entirely idealistic- getting gallery representation prior to graduating. i wanted to walk in to a career as soon as i collected my degree. and so i worked on my portfolio to HANG for a solid year and a half and, finally, a month before i went in to my senior year, i sent it off in the mail with my fingers crossed and the knowledge that i'd done my very best.
and it worked. the day i signed my contract was one of the happiest, most awe-struck moments in my entire life.
and then everything went crazy in my private life. not between my sweetie and i, but within my family. and it stayed crazy all the way up until i graduated. so crazy that i'd let go of the goal of graduating with High Distinction or any honor at all... getting the piece of paper was all i wanted at that point.
the specifics aren't something i want to get in to publicly. let it be enough to know that tragedy was everywhere and two slipped disks on top of it. weeks missed from class and sickness and ambulances... insanity. no glitz. no glamour. and it was all i could do to keep my eyes on the finish line. i made up my mind to hold myself together until then... and then i could fall apart. i told myself to keep as dry an eye as i could and struggle through to the end, screw my GPA, just finish. finish and then lose my mind.
on graduation day, i showed up in my black gown and spike heels and learned i'd be receiving my degree with High Distinction. me. the girl who spent 7 years in community college, who graduated from a continuation school, who comes from a humble home in a hateful town. speechless. and not at all proud. humbled to the core. shocked, tearful, and amazed. the walk across the stage was as bitter-sweet as any walk could be.
i claimed my life as my own... and lost someone in the process. and that loss translated in to what ended up being a massive 2 year long depression that i could barely see through. cross the finish line and then lose my mind? pretty much.
and during those dark days, which i'm only recently surfacing from, came a great many wonders: inga, art shows, the Microsoft Collection, auctions and galas, a strengthened commitment between myself and my sweetie, moving to wine-country and learning how to appreciate the beauty of a natural landscape, The Almighty Jog, becoming tight with my brother again, stronger friendships, new friendships, reconciling my own definition of success against outside expectations, and picking back up the pen to write.
i'm amazed that i kept working during that time. i'm amazed the work was at all good. i'm amazed that the maid series came along and opportunities to show that work and get in out in the world presented itself. i'm amazed that, though my practice may have slowed, it remained good and fertile. maybe i didn't lose my mind after all?
today, with a lot of patient and painful work behind me, i feel gratitude for everything that has happened in my life. every single day of it. and i look forward to the New Year with the knowledge that there will be more patient and painful work... that tragedy will find me again, that it will find all of us... but that i will not create it in my life. i will not look toward the negative and hurtful, i choose to look at the beauty of my life instead. i choose to keep my eyes on the accomplishments, not the "failures", to see how far i've come and to learn from this wealth of experience. i choose to breathe gratitude rather than resentment. i choose to see the many blessings in my life rather than the hardships.
in the new year, i resolve to make the commitments i already have in my life at present deeper, healthier, more precious. health in all its forms- my body, my art practice, my relationships, even this blog. when i look at my daily life, i'm entirely amazed and absolutely astounded to have found myself in this time, this place.
during my slumber party with rebecca, we talked about New Year's Resolutions. she's the only other person i know who makes them too. and big on the list she'd made was "feel calm and accomplished". it's important to see the good. it's important to feel good about yourself... to give yourself that kind of permission... to like who you are. calm and accomplished. has a nice ring to it, don't you think? and i'm definitely going to shoot for that. to enjoy the beauty that exists in my daily life, to practice gratitude and humility, to truly appreciate the opportunities that have come my way and to work as diligently as i can to rise to the challenges and show due respect for the blessings that have found me.
in spite of economic hardship and all the up-hill battles we've been faced with, there is goodness all around us. i want to hear your story, the lessons you've learned, and the things you hold dear. post a link in the comments section if you undertake this biggun. i want to know. and if you can make it through this lengthy post, here's mine:
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
yesterday, i talked with my mom about how fast the last 5 years have went by... the entire decade actually. the 2000's are a bit of a blur. and if someone had told me, on the eve of 2000, where i'd be 10 years later i wouldn't have believed any of it. in spite of the hardships of the last two years (which seems to be a fairly universal complaint and not at all specific or individual to me), the decade itself has been pretty amazing. a time of flux and seemingly constant re-evaluation, hard work, and learning how to put blue jeans on my dreams. a time of learning and renewal, consideration, thoughtfulness, and determination.
10 years ago my biggest dream was to get out of my home town. i call it my home town only because, through all the moving, it's the place i kept ending back up. and each return to that place was sour, disappointing, heart-breaking even. it's one of those places where even the young people say "no one ever gets out" and tell you to your face that your aspirations are stupid. getting out was priority number one... the hardest one. and i knew that school would be my ticket out.
i took classes, in between holding 2 jobs, at the local community college for 7 long years, well beyond what it took to transfer to a university because the money was just simply not there. but i wanted to keep in practice with attending classes and doing homework and being dedicated. i knew when i turned 25, the policies of the financial aid department shifted in my favor. so i bided my time until then and decided i'd learn as much as i could and "bloom where i was planted". a bitter resignation at the time but well worth the wait. i showed in bars and co-ops and started building a little art community of my own. i worked my ass off and practiced patience... and looking back, the struggle to get to art-school made the experience of going so much more magical and important than it would've been had it come to me easily. i wouldn't have appreciated it had i gotten to go when i was 18 or 19 years old. and i wouldn't be making the work i'm making now.
learning how to work hard, how to keep trying in spite of the hardships you face and the mean jokes that get made, was the best lesson i've ever learned. and i've learned it so deeply that giving up is never an option. i don't even think that way. trying is a constant in my life. it is ingrained. nay-sayers don't do me any damage at this point at all. i tune them out and keep on moving.
learning how to shrug off the ill will of others and how to keep working in moments of doubt and chaos served me well once i finally got to my dream school. especially that first year of insanely hard critiques and working full time while carrying a full class load. i won't say there weren't moments when i was amazingly unsure of myself and deeply depressed and questioned my ability to even pull the whole thing off - there was - but i wasn't about to stop trying. i knew before i got to CCA that once i got there, the real work would begin. and it did. i'm so lucky that my sweetie and i had found each other by then and had already made the commitment to help each other through roughness and disappointment. he encouraged me and showcased faith in my abilities in moments when i needed it the most and, at times, seemed to believe in the value of art more than i did.
in my second year, i hit my stride and made another goal that seemed out of bounds and entirely idealistic- getting gallery representation prior to graduating. i wanted to walk in to a career as soon as i collected my degree. and so i worked on my portfolio to HANG for a solid year and a half and, finally, a month before i went in to my senior year, i sent it off in the mail with my fingers crossed and the knowledge that i'd done my very best.
and it worked. the day i signed my contract was one of the happiest, most awe-struck moments in my entire life.
and then everything went crazy in my private life. not between my sweetie and i, but within my family. and it stayed crazy all the way up until i graduated. so crazy that i'd let go of the goal of graduating with High Distinction or any honor at all... getting the piece of paper was all i wanted at that point.
the specifics aren't something i want to get in to publicly. let it be enough to know that tragedy was everywhere and two slipped disks on top of it. weeks missed from class and sickness and ambulances... insanity. no glitz. no glamour. and it was all i could do to keep my eyes on the finish line. i made up my mind to hold myself together until then... and then i could fall apart. i told myself to keep as dry an eye as i could and struggle through to the end, screw my GPA, just finish. finish and then lose my mind.
on graduation day, i showed up in my black gown and spike heels and learned i'd be receiving my degree with High Distinction. me. the girl who spent 7 years in community college, who graduated from a continuation school, who comes from a humble home in a hateful town. speechless. and not at all proud. humbled to the core. shocked, tearful, and amazed. the walk across the stage was as bitter-sweet as any walk could be.
i claimed my life as my own... and lost someone in the process. and that loss translated in to what ended up being a massive 2 year long depression that i could barely see through. cross the finish line and then lose my mind? pretty much.
and during those dark days, which i'm only recently surfacing from, came a great many wonders: inga, art shows, the Microsoft Collection, auctions and galas, a strengthened commitment between myself and my sweetie, moving to wine-country and learning how to appreciate the beauty of a natural landscape, The Almighty Jog, becoming tight with my brother again, stronger friendships, new friendships, reconciling my own definition of success against outside expectations, and picking back up the pen to write.
i'm amazed that i kept working during that time. i'm amazed the work was at all good. i'm amazed that the maid series came along and opportunities to show that work and get in out in the world presented itself. i'm amazed that, though my practice may have slowed, it remained good and fertile. maybe i didn't lose my mind after all?
today, with a lot of patient and painful work behind me, i feel gratitude for everything that has happened in my life. every single day of it. and i look forward to the New Year with the knowledge that there will be more patient and painful work... that tragedy will find me again, that it will find all of us... but that i will not create it in my life. i will not look toward the negative and hurtful, i choose to look at the beauty of my life instead. i choose to keep my eyes on the accomplishments, not the "failures", to see how far i've come and to learn from this wealth of experience. i choose to breathe gratitude rather than resentment. i choose to see the many blessings in my life rather than the hardships.
in the new year, i resolve to make the commitments i already have in my life at present deeper, healthier, more precious. health in all its forms- my body, my art practice, my relationships, even this blog. when i look at my daily life, i'm entirely amazed and absolutely astounded to have found myself in this time, this place.
during my slumber party with rebecca, we talked about New Year's Resolutions. she's the only other person i know who makes them too. and big on the list she'd made was "feel calm and accomplished". it's important to see the good. it's important to feel good about yourself... to give yourself that kind of permission... to like who you are. calm and accomplished. has a nice ring to it, don't you think? and i'm definitely going to shoot for that. to enjoy the beauty that exists in my daily life, to practice gratitude and humility, to truly appreciate the opportunities that have come my way and to work as diligently as i can to rise to the challenges and show due respect for the blessings that have found me.
Dec 17, 2009
Dec 10, 2009
possibly... maybe...
i'll stare at them a bit longer... a couple more days. and i might realize i'm getting ahead of myself but today, out in the cold and with the pain in my stomach, it feels complete.
somehow... a bit more somber than the others.
maybe it's the light. i'll have to snap a better picture once the sun comes back.
Lineage 5
46" x 39 3/4"
oil on canvas
angela simione, 2009
somehow... a bit more somber than the others.
maybe it's the light. i'll have to snap a better picture once the sun comes back.
Lineage 5
46" x 39 3/4"
oil on canvas
angela simione, 2009
Dec 1, 2009
day one
it is the first day of the last month of the year. bright and cold and all my newly found fairy-tales at the ready. i finished "Through the Looking-Glass" last night and two more short-stories in "The Bloody Chamber". i went to bed with a head full of ideas but can't remember any dreams. i woke up feeling easy and happy.
i wrote all morning long and found the end of the hand-made notebook. 7 days and it is filled. that won't cut it. and i saw this coming the other day when i ran passed the half-way mark and decided to go back to my beloved black and white speckled composition books. i have a new stack now and the first page of the first in the stack has already been kissed and scribbled on. an old, thrift-store valentine taped to the front cover.
i wrote and wanted to stay in one place all day long, rolling in the ink but i caught myself and checked the clock, found my sports bra, and ran through the big vineyard. they are pruning the vines today. cutting their tops off. the remaining grapes, crushed in the narrow aisles, smelled warm and sweet as cookies. i took my time and ran a bit further than i usually do. inga is sleeping now, worn out, and i am on my 2nd pot of coffee.
the light is good and clear. i will bundle up and get my brush. there is oil to work.
i wrote all morning long and found the end of the hand-made notebook. 7 days and it is filled. that won't cut it. and i saw this coming the other day when i ran passed the half-way mark and decided to go back to my beloved black and white speckled composition books. i have a new stack now and the first page of the first in the stack has already been kissed and scribbled on. an old, thrift-store valentine taped to the front cover.
i wrote and wanted to stay in one place all day long, rolling in the ink but i caught myself and checked the clock, found my sports bra, and ran through the big vineyard. they are pruning the vines today. cutting their tops off. the remaining grapes, crushed in the narrow aisles, smelled warm and sweet as cookies. i took my time and ran a bit further than i usually do. inga is sleeping now, worn out, and i am on my 2nd pot of coffee.
the light is good and clear. i will bundle up and get my brush. there is oil to work.
Nov 23, 2009
amends...
amends (1)
15" x 11"
ink and gouache on paper
angela simione, 2009
amends (2)
15" x 11"
gouache on paper
angela simione, 2009
thank you.
most people wouldn't know it (at least i hope they don't) but, the truth is, i have a tendency toward sadness that is life-long. it's been a struggle of mine for as long as i can remember. even as a child, i felt sad on a pretty regular basis. things were chaotic and, in the midst of that chaos, all i ever wanted to be was pleasing.
when i was in college, i thought that the majority of that chaos had been layed to rest a long, long time ago. i was wrong. and to be perfectly honest, i've only recently gotten out from under the weight of a pretty massive and painful 2 year long depression. 2 years. that's a long time to feel bad about yourself, your life, everything. and if not for the bravery of my mother and the kind patience of my sweetheart, i'd probably still be in that horrible place of self-hate. i could not shake myself loose from it... and i can only imagine how painful it was for the people in my life who love me to watch me become so frail, so scared, so fed-up with my self... so opposite who they know me to be.
my practice slowed to a crawl. it took months to finish a painting that should've only taken a few weeks. and when i noticed this, i felt even worse. all i could see was failure. failure everywhere. not good enough, not smart enough, not refined or beautiful or important.
now, i'm amazed i got any work done at all during that time. absolutely amazed. while i was going through it, i kept reminding myself 'the work will save you. the work will save you. it's saved you so many times'. i made a point to at least try to trust it... especially when i felt there was nothing else i could trust. and there were moments all along the way where i achieved that trust but, looking back, it is glaringly apparent that i started building enormous hurdles, contingencies, expectations, and stringent rules about art, my practice, what qualifies and what doesn't, definitions for success... all which hurt my life's work... hurt me.
this blog has cataloged a lot of this in spite of my attempts to keep it quiet. it's all here. the strange struggle that i think is normal for artists. our identity is wrapped up in the work. it's impossible for the work not to suffer when we are suffering. and this isn't a bad thing so maybe i should've been more open about it at the time... it might've helped someone else. it might've helped me. but those damned contingencies were in the way and i just couldn't allow myself to share something i thought was shameful. that child's desire, the "i only ever wanted to be pleasing" was too active. i was not strong enough to expose the reality i lived in. i was afraid of getting THE LOOK. i was afraid of compromising my career, people's opinions of me, not meeting their expectations, not meeting my own.
but what about the saying 'many hands make light work'.
i take comfort in it. newly.
a comfort i historically deny myself.
it takes honesty. honesty is not any easy thing. it's hard to know, in times of deep sadness, what the truth even is, let alone speak it. but one thing is certain- my practice did save me when i let it. when i was honest, it fueled me and lifted me up. it gave me such a tremendous hope. a hope worth focusing on, keeping in front of my eyes, not blinking away.
and this space. this undefinable world, built in text and light, has become such a wonder, such a privilege... a document of hope.
when i was in college, i thought that the majority of that chaos had been layed to rest a long, long time ago. i was wrong. and to be perfectly honest, i've only recently gotten out from under the weight of a pretty massive and painful 2 year long depression. 2 years. that's a long time to feel bad about yourself, your life, everything. and if not for the bravery of my mother and the kind patience of my sweetheart, i'd probably still be in that horrible place of self-hate. i could not shake myself loose from it... and i can only imagine how painful it was for the people in my life who love me to watch me become so frail, so scared, so fed-up with my self... so opposite who they know me to be.
my practice slowed to a crawl. it took months to finish a painting that should've only taken a few weeks. and when i noticed this, i felt even worse. all i could see was failure. failure everywhere. not good enough, not smart enough, not refined or beautiful or important.
now, i'm amazed i got any work done at all during that time. absolutely amazed. while i was going through it, i kept reminding myself 'the work will save you. the work will save you. it's saved you so many times'. i made a point to at least try to trust it... especially when i felt there was nothing else i could trust. and there were moments all along the way where i achieved that trust but, looking back, it is glaringly apparent that i started building enormous hurdles, contingencies, expectations, and stringent rules about art, my practice, what qualifies and what doesn't, definitions for success... all which hurt my life's work... hurt me.
this blog has cataloged a lot of this in spite of my attempts to keep it quiet. it's all here. the strange struggle that i think is normal for artists. our identity is wrapped up in the work. it's impossible for the work not to suffer when we are suffering. and this isn't a bad thing so maybe i should've been more open about it at the time... it might've helped someone else. it might've helped me. but those damned contingencies were in the way and i just couldn't allow myself to share something i thought was shameful. that child's desire, the "i only ever wanted to be pleasing" was too active. i was not strong enough to expose the reality i lived in. i was afraid of getting THE LOOK. i was afraid of compromising my career, people's opinions of me, not meeting their expectations, not meeting my own.
but what about the saying 'many hands make light work'.
i take comfort in it. newly.
a comfort i historically deny myself.
it takes honesty. honesty is not any easy thing. it's hard to know, in times of deep sadness, what the truth even is, let alone speak it. but one thing is certain- my practice did save me when i let it. when i was honest, it fueled me and lifted me up. it gave me such a tremendous hope. a hope worth focusing on, keeping in front of my eyes, not blinking away.
and this space. this undefinable world, built in text and light, has become such a wonder, such a privilege... a document of hope.
Nov 16, 2009
uh oh...
i just checked my calender. there are only 6 weeks left in the year. and being that i am quite fond of rituals, markers of time, beginnings and endings, honoring the process of things, keeping traditions and making new ones, it is time to start thinking about resolutions. yep. yikes.
there are two large paintings that need to be finished and poems i'd like to get a bit deeper in during the next month and half. care-packages to make and little christmas gifts. after that, there will be new additions to my morning rituals to get used to. i'm happy that my morning writing practice is safe and solid. i'm happy that The Almighty Jog is working its' magic in my life and has become a prized part of my daily living as well. and, of course, this blog. i can't believe it's been just about an entire year since i made the resolution to be diligent about this thing. i've done pretty good, somehow managing to get a post up just about every day and letting the practice enrich my life. it has been such a blessing, this little space. this strange land of text and desire. it has brought such wonderful, talented, courageous, beautiful people to me. i am honored and so full of thankfulness. so full! and warm and ready to be brave... to go on being brave, to get more brave with my work, my writing, the paintings, my relationships. and i think that's what the majority of my resolutions this year will pertain to.
big on the list is getting a solo show together which means DOING THE WORK! it means having the bravery to let my practice wander around and do what it wants and just trust the effing thing. :) let it humble me, let it take the reigns and run. just work. let the work be what it wants to be. and my job is to be diligent in my respect for that. the process itself is a magical thing. my stamina seems to be back and my wide-open definition of what art is, what it can do, be, what it's good for seems to be back too. this is a very happy thing and i've missed it.
and the work has brought people to me that i feel so lucky to know. people i admire. people who are good and kind and hard-working. this blog even. it's become a strange little labor of love, an art project in it's own right. why not? and a string that connects me to you in such an artful, gentle, encouraging way. i can't tell you how wonderfully it has strengthened my faith... this little line of us that write and buzz and go on trying for a better way of living. it is so encouraging and gracious and just down right beautiful! and my poet goes on twisting up a net of words, building a nest for us to crawl in to, be safe, be shattered, be alive inside.
the trip down to southern california had a great big silver lining to it. for as grateful as i was about my life, it made me even more so. i saw so clearly all the things and people i love, the things i need to protect and nourish and never ever take for granted. i am so lucky and i want to honor that as best as i can.
following the work and not making demands on it is the best thing i can do. the work makes me a better, happier, healthier person. it makes me good. and that goodness can't help but spill out and slide around in the other areas of my life. my friendships and loves. the work is graceful and patient. i want to be graceful and patient too. the work can teach me this. i just have to listen. i just have to guard it. i just have to work.
and for the next 6 weeks that's all i plan on doing. i won't get lost in scrutinising the paintings or poems, i'll get lost in the process instead. i'll see where i go. for the next 6 weeks i won't make any assumptions about anything and just work work work. january 1st i'll take a look and see what i've done and see where i need to go. for the next 6 weeks i plan to just enjoy each day. that's it. simple, yes, but amazingly hard for a person like me. i've developed a nasty habit of being way too concerned with the future and not enough about the Here and Now. the Here and Now are things, i'm learning, that need to be honored as well. i'm going to have to come up with a few resolutions that will help me do that.
what about you? any new year's resolutions in the works?
there are two large paintings that need to be finished and poems i'd like to get a bit deeper in during the next month and half. care-packages to make and little christmas gifts. after that, there will be new additions to my morning rituals to get used to. i'm happy that my morning writing practice is safe and solid. i'm happy that The Almighty Jog is working its' magic in my life and has become a prized part of my daily living as well. and, of course, this blog. i can't believe it's been just about an entire year since i made the resolution to be diligent about this thing. i've done pretty good, somehow managing to get a post up just about every day and letting the practice enrich my life. it has been such a blessing, this little space. this strange land of text and desire. it has brought such wonderful, talented, courageous, beautiful people to me. i am honored and so full of thankfulness. so full! and warm and ready to be brave... to go on being brave, to get more brave with my work, my writing, the paintings, my relationships. and i think that's what the majority of my resolutions this year will pertain to.
big on the list is getting a solo show together which means DOING THE WORK! it means having the bravery to let my practice wander around and do what it wants and just trust the effing thing. :) let it humble me, let it take the reigns and run. just work. let the work be what it wants to be. and my job is to be diligent in my respect for that. the process itself is a magical thing. my stamina seems to be back and my wide-open definition of what art is, what it can do, be, what it's good for seems to be back too. this is a very happy thing and i've missed it.
and the work has brought people to me that i feel so lucky to know. people i admire. people who are good and kind and hard-working. this blog even. it's become a strange little labor of love, an art project in it's own right. why not? and a string that connects me to you in such an artful, gentle, encouraging way. i can't tell you how wonderfully it has strengthened my faith... this little line of us that write and buzz and go on trying for a better way of living. it is so encouraging and gracious and just down right beautiful! and my poet goes on twisting up a net of words, building a nest for us to crawl in to, be safe, be shattered, be alive inside.
the trip down to southern california had a great big silver lining to it. for as grateful as i was about my life, it made me even more so. i saw so clearly all the things and people i love, the things i need to protect and nourish and never ever take for granted. i am so lucky and i want to honor that as best as i can.
following the work and not making demands on it is the best thing i can do. the work makes me a better, happier, healthier person. it makes me good. and that goodness can't help but spill out and slide around in the other areas of my life. my friendships and loves. the work is graceful and patient. i want to be graceful and patient too. the work can teach me this. i just have to listen. i just have to guard it. i just have to work.
and for the next 6 weeks that's all i plan on doing. i won't get lost in scrutinising the paintings or poems, i'll get lost in the process instead. i'll see where i go. for the next 6 weeks i won't make any assumptions about anything and just work work work. january 1st i'll take a look and see what i've done and see where i need to go. for the next 6 weeks i plan to just enjoy each day. that's it. simple, yes, but amazingly hard for a person like me. i've developed a nasty habit of being way too concerned with the future and not enough about the Here and Now. the Here and Now are things, i'm learning, that need to be honored as well. i'm going to have to come up with a few resolutions that will help me do that.
what about you? any new year's resolutions in the works?
Oct 21, 2009
Oct 18, 2009
yay!
tonight is auction night! yes! the annual fundraiser/art auction/cocktail party benefiting the Access Institute for Psychological Services in San Francisco and yours truly has a piece on the auction block! i'm so honored to have been invited to contribute. this is an issue that has touched the lives of most people i know and, in our current economy rife with health care woes and hardships, it is absolutely wonderful that i can do something to help. even the smallest gesture counts. kindness matters. concern matters. and being given the opportunity to lend your skills to a heart-breaking, worth-while cause is something i cherish.
if you're in the area and have nothing to do tonight, come on out. it will be quite the soiree. and besides, i'll be there and i'm a whole lot of laughs and fun. :)
this is the piece that's up for grabs...
.JPG)
unnamed/unknown
11" x 7.5"
mixed media on paper
angela simione, 2009
if you're in the area and have nothing to do tonight, come on out. it will be quite the soiree. and besides, i'll be there and i'm a whole lot of laughs and fun. :)
this is the piece that's up for grabs...
.JPG)
unnamed/unknown
11" x 7.5"
mixed media on paper
angela simione, 2009
Oct 15, 2009
,+embroidery,+angela+simione+2009.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
Oct 10, 2009
work...
the little
under eyebrows plucked to commas
under a white man's name
sitting still
thin as thread
-
Dad appreciated her-
the small, neat house.
pretty,
except when drunks pounded on the door
with cold sensibilities
(with a promise of money)
the muscles around her eyes shivered.
she lifted the other lid-
-
a working nurse with no juice.
skirted
shrouded
sugar rotten
exhausted:
the little girl of the bed.
-
six years.
she took the cold great coins.
2009
under eyebrows plucked to commas
under a white man's name
sitting still
thin as thread
-
Dad appreciated her-
the small, neat house.
pretty,
except when drunks pounded on the door
with cold sensibilities
(with a promise of money)
the muscles around her eyes shivered.
she lifted the other lid-
-
a working nurse with no juice.
skirted
shrouded
sugar rotten
exhausted:
the little girl of the bed.
-
six years.
she took the cold great coins.
2009
Oct 8, 2009
still working on this little guy...
edit, edit, edit- that's the name of the game. always, endlessly... no such thing as a perfect poem, i'm told, but you still gotta do your best. i'm trying. and i will keep on trying. i've had a tremendous need for words lately. i'm sure you've noticed. :) and i'm not exactly sure what sparked it or if this is just the way i am and had somehow ignored it. whatever the case, i don't mind it, not one bit, and will roll on, pushing words together, happy in all this ink.
this is what happens when you're raised by a sociopath
stark
the uneven crack
sporadic
unintended.
a brutal white
diagonal. Her diamond
fractals crossing wide.
mathematical.
pristine.
perfect,
be perfect,
be strict
be stringent-
we're beyond all that now.
-
She's got her reasons.
They all have a number.
unsurpassed.
Her shards are assured.
angela simione, 2009
this is what happens when you're raised by a sociopath
stark
the uneven crack
sporadic
unintended.
a brutal white
diagonal. Her diamond
fractals crossing wide.
mathematical.
pristine.
perfect,
be perfect,
be strict
be stringent-
we're beyond all that now.
-
She's got her reasons.
They all have a number.
unsurpassed.
Her shards are assured.
angela simione, 2009
Oct 3, 2009
wow...
oh man! yesterday was quite a day! i drew and drew and drew and 7 hours later, elsie was done with me. so i grabbed my camera and went outside to take a picture in the good light and, of course, the battery was dead. by the time it was done charging, there was enough light left in the evening to snap one good picture and get it posted here... but no. the camera is bugged out and keeps shutting down. my GOOD camera. it may have something to do with the coke that exploded in my bag when my camera was in there too. hmmmmm. so this morning, first thing after the coffee was brewed, i tracked down my old camera and took elsie outside in the crisp, clear morning and took her picture.
i really can't stop looking at her.
she wouldn't stop talking yesterday. oh! such a gorgeous child! and so haunted, so delicate, so full of things i don't quite understand. it's going to take quite a bit of studying to prepare for her final portrait. an oil painting. who knows... maybe she doesn't even need or want that... maybe the roughness of paper is what she wants. i don't know. all i know is that i have to keep drawing her.
this is the 2nd study i've done-
,+30x22,+water+soluble+graphite+and+gouache+on+paper,+angela+simione++2009.JPG)
Alpha (study #2)
30" x 22"
water soluble graphite and gouache on paper
angela simione, 2009
i went big with this one. 7 years of life-drawing classes taught me that while your learning, use the biggest piece of paper you've got. give yourself room to feel around, sound out the vowels of a form.
i don't use projectors and i don't trace. it isn't that i have a problem with those methods at all, i don't. it's just preference. i want my hand to be as diligent and specific as a camera. that's what i aspire to. a machine at the end of my wrist. but a machine that has embraced chance and flaw and accident.
besides, this work is too personal. a human has to do it, not a device. this work is more about memory than accurate rendering. doing her portraits are an act of remembering... remembering someone we know nothing about. no favorite color, no favorite food, we can't even be sure what color the cape she's wearing in the photograph is. her portrait is a portrait of loss... and getting every single shadow exactly right really isn't the point. it's about listening. it's looking at those strange eyes, light refracted all through them, and trying to see who she might have been...
who she could be now. or is.
i really can't stop looking at her.
she wouldn't stop talking yesterday. oh! such a gorgeous child! and so haunted, so delicate, so full of things i don't quite understand. it's going to take quite a bit of studying to prepare for her final portrait. an oil painting. who knows... maybe she doesn't even need or want that... maybe the roughness of paper is what she wants. i don't know. all i know is that i have to keep drawing her.
this is the 2nd study i've done-
,+30x22,+water+soluble+graphite+and+gouache+on+paper,+angela+simione++2009.JPG)
Alpha (study #2)
30" x 22"
water soluble graphite and gouache on paper
angela simione, 2009
i went big with this one. 7 years of life-drawing classes taught me that while your learning, use the biggest piece of paper you've got. give yourself room to feel around, sound out the vowels of a form.
i don't use projectors and i don't trace. it isn't that i have a problem with those methods at all, i don't. it's just preference. i want my hand to be as diligent and specific as a camera. that's what i aspire to. a machine at the end of my wrist. but a machine that has embraced chance and flaw and accident.
besides, this work is too personal. a human has to do it, not a device. this work is more about memory than accurate rendering. doing her portraits are an act of remembering... remembering someone we know nothing about. no favorite color, no favorite food, we can't even be sure what color the cape she's wearing in the photograph is. her portrait is a portrait of loss... and getting every single shadow exactly right really isn't the point. it's about listening. it's looking at those strange eyes, light refracted all through them, and trying to see who she might have been...
who she could be now. or is.
Oct 2, 2009
shading in...
it's too cold still this morning to go outside and paint. and i need the good light, it's too yellow inside the cottage. so i'm waiting. it'll warm up eventually.
i've got coffee and raspberries and elsie on the kitchen floor. i am working right there in front of the big window. my dog is asleep in my bed and it is so quiet and still here... that's why i am crawling around in her shadows today. it's quiet enough. she won't startle and run away. she is a tough one to pin down.
i've got coffee and raspberries and elsie on the kitchen floor. i am working right there in front of the big window. my dog is asleep in my bed and it is so quiet and still here... that's why i am crawling around in her shadows today. it's quiet enough. she won't startle and run away. she is a tough one to pin down.
Sep 30, 2009
work...
cold and cold and cold,
i went on a cleaning spree.
there is carrot cake and secrecy tonight.
there is clean and cleaned and cleansed.
__________
about a year ago i started writing a memoir-ish thing and have picked it back up this week. it's much easier now than it was when i started it but still quite hard. it's strange going back in time like this and some things are still too early to try to write down. but it's a good project- one without the limits of time or due date or genre. it's a mish-mash of things but i don't think i'll add any pictures. it is a text, solely. i want no other art-form clouding it. it is its own painting... or will be, i hope. i want it to stand on its own. one day. but for the time being, it keeps its own schedule. i make no demands of it. i wait for it to spring up and shout for attention. i bend to its will, not the other way around. for all i know, it'll never be finished. all i can do is work on it as i'm able. this week has been good in that respect but next week could be an entirely different prospect. memoir-ish things are tricky that way, i suppose. and it's best not to rush such a thing anyhow.
i went on a cleaning spree.
there is carrot cake and secrecy tonight.
there is clean and cleaned and cleansed.
__________
about a year ago i started writing a memoir-ish thing and have picked it back up this week. it's much easier now than it was when i started it but still quite hard. it's strange going back in time like this and some things are still too early to try to write down. but it's a good project- one without the limits of time or due date or genre. it's a mish-mash of things but i don't think i'll add any pictures. it is a text, solely. i want no other art-form clouding it. it is its own painting... or will be, i hope. i want it to stand on its own. one day. but for the time being, it keeps its own schedule. i make no demands of it. i wait for it to spring up and shout for attention. i bend to its will, not the other way around. for all i know, it'll never be finished. all i can do is work on it as i'm able. this week has been good in that respect but next week could be an entirely different prospect. memoir-ish things are tricky that way, i suppose. and it's best not to rush such a thing anyhow.
Sep 29, 2009
change...
it is cold here. it has been for the past two days. it looked sunny and bright and warm through the window, but i stepped out in to a strong icy wind. seems autumn has actually arrived. all orange and yellow. and if not for the wind, it might have been warm.
autumn is a strange time for me. there's something in how the light comes down. there's something in all this yellow that makes me feel some type of quiet longing. a memory in the body, i suppose. this is the time of year when things seem more valuable and more special than they would have in summer... and the days stretch out. not quite long but slow. it makes me wish i were independently wealthy so that me and my sweetie could sleep in and stay under our quilts all day, hide from the cold outside and watch movies in bed. no work, no fatigue, no responsibility; just us, snuggled up against the strange longing that finds me each year in this season. i don't know why. i don't know if it's good or bad, just that it's the case... and it has everything to do with all the yellow coming down from the trees.
autumn is a strange time for me. there's something in how the light comes down. there's something in all this yellow that makes me feel some type of quiet longing. a memory in the body, i suppose. this is the time of year when things seem more valuable and more special than they would have in summer... and the days stretch out. not quite long but slow. it makes me wish i were independently wealthy so that me and my sweetie could sleep in and stay under our quilts all day, hide from the cold outside and watch movies in bed. no work, no fatigue, no responsibility; just us, snuggled up against the strange longing that finds me each year in this season. i don't know why. i don't know if it's good or bad, just that it's the case... and it has everything to do with all the yellow coming down from the trees.
Sep 28, 2009
a little gathering...
i was talking with one of my friends the other day about the importance of curation, that it is an art unto itself... and one that is so much harder than you'd think. it took me a solid 8 hours to hang a show once. no kidding. finding the right pieces, the right arrangement... it takes a lot of work and a ton of sensitivity. each piece in a show has a conversation with the other work. especially the piece it is hanging right next to. and so the premise of the show, the statement, whatever it is you want the show to DO or communicate, weighs in heavily on how the work is hung. i'm a bit rusty at it, for sure. so this is just a little attempt to start thinking along those lines again- a little gathering of pieces from the last 3 years, all of which are still in my possession, all of whom i love. pretend it's a real exhibition and let me know what you think.
don't you ever tell...
,+24+x+17.5,+oil+on+canvas,+angela+simione++2008.JPG)
untitled (protect)
24" x 17.5"
oil on canvas
angela simione, 2008
untitled
15" x 11"
mixed media on paper
angela simione, 2009
objects
20" x 24"
glitter on wood
angela simione, 2008
Charlotte ("the faces do not count.")
36" x 12"
crochet
angela simione, 2007
Portrait of the Artist as a Child
20" x 16"
oil on canvas
angela simione, 2007
gift
11" x 14"
watercolor on paper
angela simione, 2008
,+embroidery,+angela+simione+2009.JPG)
warning
14" x 11" (framed)
embroidery
angela simione, 2009
(this last piece should definitely be photographed on a white ground... and without the glare, but you get the point.)
don't you ever tell...
,+24+x+17.5,+oil+on+canvas,+angela+simione++2008.JPG)
untitled (protect)
24" x 17.5"
oil on canvas
angela simione, 2008
untitled
15" x 11"
mixed media on paper
angela simione, 2009
objects
20" x 24"
glitter on wood
angela simione, 2008
Charlotte ("the faces do not count.")
36" x 12"
crochet
angela simione, 2007
Portrait of the Artist as a Child
20" x 16"
oil on canvas
angela simione, 2007
gift
11" x 14"
watercolor on paper
angela simione, 2008
,+embroidery,+angela+simione+2009.JPG)
warning
14" x 11" (framed)
embroidery
angela simione, 2009
(this last piece should definitely be photographed on a white ground... and without the glare, but you get the point.)
Sep 27, 2009
continuing...
i met my maids first thing this morning. the shadows and highlights in their aprons want to dance today- slow and specific... intimate, delicate, just a hint and a nudge, a feather on my wrist.
this is when painting feels the most natural, the most powerful- when you can see, with complete assurance, what the piece is asking for, the direction it wants to go...
this is when i am happiest. when all my heart smiles.
this is when painting feels the most natural, the most powerful- when you can see, with complete assurance, what the piece is asking for, the direction it wants to go...
this is when i am happiest. when all my heart smiles.
Sep 23, 2009
stitches...
another one of the little lovely humble things i've been keeping all to myself...
,+embroidery,+angela+simione+2009.JPG)
warning
14" x 11" (framed)
embroidery
angela simione, 2009
inspired by the little sign i made myself that was hanging on my fridge. this will be hung up in the kitchen as soon as i'm done writing this post, right in line with the front door so that it's one of the first things you see when you walk in. no longer a warning to self, i suppose. i love the aggressiveness of this little piece. embroidery can be tough too, ya know.
it makes me want to put together an entire show- all embroidery, all red and white. a fun and creepy little side-project to dream about, for sure.
p.s. sorry for all the reflective glare. i was excited and couldn't wait for the sun to shove off to the other side of the sky. :)
,+embroidery,+angela+simione+2009.JPG)
warning
14" x 11" (framed)
embroidery
angela simione, 2009
inspired by the little sign i made myself that was hanging on my fridge. this will be hung up in the kitchen as soon as i'm done writing this post, right in line with the front door so that it's one of the first things you see when you walk in. no longer a warning to self, i suppose. i love the aggressiveness of this little piece. embroidery can be tough too, ya know.
it makes me want to put together an entire show- all embroidery, all red and white. a fun and creepy little side-project to dream about, for sure.
p.s. sorry for all the reflective glare. i was excited and couldn't wait for the sun to shove off to the other side of the sky. :)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)