be true.

yesterday was glorious and strange and exciting and emotional and full of insights that i was completely ready for- a surge, a sweep of ideas that have been swirling swirling and then wonderful conversations that extended such a forcefully bright clarity that it shook my insides, shook things in to place.

i spent a magnificent hour and a half at the gallery talking about work and process and where my head's at and how i'm choosing images, what i care about, the moral (?) impulse inside art, the cry, the collecting of evidence, art speak art speak art speak; and it was so happy and fun and inspiring! i love visiting my gallery. i love everyone who works there. i love laughing with them and talking shop and making crass jokes.

after i left, i made a subconscious detour and ended up at my old school. i parked and went inside. as soon as i was through the doors, i saw an old school-mate of mine who is now in the masters program there. and lucky for me, he's a talker and likes to tell you everything he's learning and all his thoughts about art and jobs and education. so i stood there and listened and picked his brain for an hour. he gave me the insight i needed, the swift kick in the ass, the hard answer. i don't think he's aware of how completely meaningful and helpful the conversation was. but at one point he asked "do you want to teach?" and i said "well... no, not really but it'd be a lot better than waiting tables. what i really want is to find myself represented by a blue-chip gallery in new york. i've got every cliched, lofty goal in the book, to be totally honest." and he said then to just stop worrying about grad school and focus on The Portfolio. focus on the work, get it done, wrestle with that and that alone. and he's right. i already knew that this was the correct answer. i've known it all along. but finance works its way in to the equation at every turn. insidious and cruel. but i have always been poor and never really had much of a problem with that since i became an adult. i knew when i made the conscious decision to go ahead and nurture the unconscious reality of the fact i'm an artist, that it would spell a lot of struggle and a lot of hardship. i was not deluded about this. ever. and i know that one day, if i keep after the dream, it will change. i must trust myself and i must be true to myself.

after our conversation, i walked through the senior painting studios. i walked passed my old studio. my heart dropped and welled up with such a hurt, painful longing for how my last year in school went. the massive regret over lost time...

i have no clue how i graduated, let alone with high distinction. no clue except for the unconscious drive to BE HERE and DO THIS. i was running running running toward the goal and busting through every single hurdle in front of me and, yes, i lost my mind for a bit afterward, but as i walked through the studios i realized that the simple reason behind that big bad 2 year depression was that i had handed over the life i was trying to create. i realized that somewhere along the line i had handed over control... i thought that's what love was. i thought that's what daughterhood entailed. i thought that's what good people do. when i realized these thoughts were entirely wrong, such a deep deep sorrow and despair spread through me. and as i walked through the studios, the shadow of that sorrow spread over me but, this time, it brought a strange, painful, healthy clarity. the knowledge of who i am and how to trust myself, how to be true to THE PATH...

the answer i came to was, simply, to keep doing what i'm doing. keep reading, keep writing, keep drawing, keep painting, keep playing, keep reaching out to others who appreciate these things, who understand these things, who care, truly care, about these things- people who KNOW the relevance of these practices, these hard hard hard pursuits. i don't want to be anything else than what i am... and so i am charged with finding a way, no matter how long it takes, to build a life for myself that feels right, that feels respectful of who i am, what my loves are, the things i value. i am charged to protect and sacrifice in its honor. i am charged to stand on the foundation of my values and somehow be courageous enough to keep going. to let TIME take time. to let love this enough to be okay with 'the long haul'. all i want in this world, in this life, is to be an artist. to write and to paint. that's it.

i do want to go to grad school but not for professional reasons ie: a job. i want to go for The Work. i want to go for the sake of The Work, My Work, to nurture it, to make it stronger, to take it to a deeper place. that's the reason i went to art school in the first place- The Work needed it. when the work needs it again, it will get it. i will find a way to ensure that the work always gets what it needs.

now, the work needs me to give it as much focus and attention as i can. every single day. read, write, draw. read, write, draw. and trust the whole spinning wheel of the thing. this is what i am built for.

the work i dropped off yesterday will be shipped to New York in a couple weeks for AAF. i will not think about it anymore. i will not have any expectations of the event. i will only enjoy the beautiful sign of support this is. the fact that my gallery believes in me and to rest warm and safe in that knowledge. it is a generous and wonderful thing. i will curl back around my pencil and keep working.

and the desire to write, to be knighted "a writer", is as large a desire in me as to be a painter. i want to send these words out, as flawed as they are, to whomever might be able to used them. i will trust them. fearlessly and ferociously and without apology. this is who i am and i want nothing different.

i think the last few weary trappings of my depression were swept away yesterday. i am ready to get back on the good grey horse.

new day...

ever since i mailed the grant application off, a nice warm calm has spread over my days... even though i'm assuming i'll receive a rejection. but putting the work out in to the world (in whatever capacity) is a wonderful act of letting go, come what may. besides, i've got a fairly thick skin at this point when it comes to art rejections. the critiques at CCA got to be pretty dang brutal at times and i've got an entire folder of rejection letters here under my desk to remind me that the point is to just keep trying. pay your dues and get them out of the way. everyone must, and that includes little ol' me. in fact, the more rejection i suffer, the easier it gets and the probability of finding the proper channels and avenues for support and exposure for the work increase. i'm ruling things out, looking for better, more fitting opportunities, and thinking critically about my own practice and where i'd like to go. the rejection letter, in a round about way, helps to steer me in the right direction. there's always an upside and i've got a lifelong habit of straining to find the silver-lining in every single situation. all this to say... yesterday i painted with such pressure-less freedom and poise, it was remarkable. i didn't worry about the time or when the canvas would finally be done or when the issues within the composition will get worked out. i sat and stared and drank my coffee and saw what needed to happen next- piece by piece, inch by inch, shadow by shadow. i was fully myself and in the work. i'm proud of the maid portraits. as proud of them as i am the 'anonymous girl' series. i feel so close to this body of work and it feels important to me. i love these ladies, i truly do. i've got Lineage 4 hanging in front of my bed right now and waking up to them has been such an honor, such a humbling moment. it sets a good tone for the rest of the day. humility is a good ingredient in the studio, for sure. i will miss them endlessly when they're gone.