quiet and happy

the sky is white and grey. it feels very close.
down low. close to the ground.
like a shamed dog.

i bought a bag of frozen blueberries and also Jiffy blueberry muffin mix. i saw the box and it reminded me of my mother- my mother when i was 5 or 6 years old, giving me the mixing spoon to lick, and me always dreaming so many dreams every single day.

i am reading Jean Genet's The Thief's Journal and, though i am only on page 42, i have already fallen in love with this man. something in his tempo... his temperament, the pacing of his words, his choices, carries an echo back to me. an echo i can't yet place. remnants of old dreams or memories or some kind of low, sad wish that has followed me in the decades since i was the sweet 5 or 6 years old girl. i did in fact wait for the first star every night. i made so many wishes. when i die, it will be interesting to go to wherever they are written down and learn them all again.

all these years later: blueberry muffins baking in my oven. i lick the mixing spoon clean. and the mixing bowl too. i can smell my little yellow darlings rising.


the day drizzles.


did you know tomorrow, we install the show? :) i am deeply myself in this moment, waiting to hang paintings on white walls.

moday monday monday

a new monday. a new week. and it's hard to believe october is already here. it really does feel like we welcomed the new year just yesterday. this year is a steam train.

still: a new monday, a new week. and i welcome it with my own steam and fire. yesterday, an artist i greatly admire came by my place to look at all the work and make happy plans. i'll have more news on that later, but for now- i can't tell you how absolutely wonderful it is to be in the same room with a person who not only appreciates your aesthetic, but believes in the relevance of it because they are a practitioner of that aesthetic as well. us black and white artist girls are in the definite minority so it was so affirming and happy-making to have another woman in the house who knows exactly where i'm coming from. and we talked about painting and drawing and print-making and the glory of oval canvasses and t-shirts and doubled back over the conversation, looping around happy and giddy, discussing every single art related thing and dream that came up. the hour she was here went by so fast. it was awesome.

done.

today has been a running, writing, reading, thinking day:

thoughts about 'writing'.
thoughts about 'reading'.
i ran 3 miles and have been yawning a lot.

i feel quiet and tired.

i want to lay in bed under the day shade and day-dream awhile. look at my paintings on the wall and flip through my notebooks. rest. wonder.

this week was a wearing one. i feel worn.

and i am wearing one of jared's big t-shirts. i look like a little kid. i want to wear it because it is his.

yawning and stretching
this always-a-little-bit-older body.

this is a perfect evening for books in bed.

affirm

.

slowly slowly

and in the present tense.

i scribbled 15 minutes on my forearm this morning. a reminder of how to take the day: small increments. focused. lovingly. do not skip ahead. do not let a foot slip in to the past. keep your eyes here. both of them. 15 minutes at a time if the day feels too wide, too tall.

it works.

and now, fresh from a long shower, already in polka dot pajamas even though the sun is still up, i will head off to the bedroom. turn the fan on. get under a thin quilt. put a book on my lap. stay just like that until it is time to drift off.



i want to pay attention
and not fall to distraction.

here we are at thursday and i feel happy.

there is a nice, warm calm i've been hoarding for myself lately. lots of writing and reading and drawing and crocheting. soft days. the week has been good to me: ideas, ideas, ideas and coffee and poems and taking my friend to the dentist to get a tooth yanked out. the stuff that makes a life.

i've been practicing being present. not anguishing over the future, just letting the joy flood back in to my practice and letting go of rules and definitions. isn't that what art's supposed to be about anyway? ha! and i must laugh at myself. i must and i do. everyday. and i've also re-invested in the good habit of dancing in the living room. blasting music in the morning and even singing in to a hair brush. silliness! and happy laughter!

and so today i have absolutely no plan for the hours to come. let them come however they want. it's bright and beautiful here. the curtains are open and i've still got a half pot of coffee to get through. there are blackberries in the fridge and bagels in the cupboard. the big spider i'm drawing for louise bourgeois is lording over my bedroom, tacked to the wall, beautiful and creeping.

i think i'll take my coffee to bed and sit with the big spider for awhile. eat breakfast with it and enjoy the calm of this beautiful morning.

monday!

i have coffee in my cup and a fresh layer of deep grey oil down on a super massive canvas. the scent of it laying in every inch of my small home. a wonderful start to the week, to the day. and it is sunny already. i'll suck up the sun while i can. the rain has not finished with us yet and will be back tomorrow for the majority of the week- no outdoor painting for me... or jogs unless i want to get drenched again. but it's alright. i've been working working working and feeling good about myself. i don't mind the rainy days so much anymore. it's become my acceptable excuse to be reclusive and spent the entire day reading, writing, drawing, painting in my pajamas, drinking too much coffee, and forgetting about the dishes in the sink.

i spent the weekend stretching canvasses and writing a short story. it was nice to step back from the internet. more and more i've been feeling the desire/need to step in to natural light and away from the glow of this rectangle... to spend more and more time with the work and digging through ideas. i've been reading "The Triggering Town" by Richard Hugo, a book about writing poetry. and the subject of finding one's voice is applicable to painting too. in fact, i think it's not something a person only wrestles with once. i think that as i change and grow and explore, my "voice" needs to change and grow too. what worked last year, what felt true to me last year, has shifted a bit... and so i wrestle to shift the voice, marry it to who i am today. right now, i feel that voice is erupting in such a fiery, honest way. it is exhilarating and comforting and all the pieces of my world begin to line up... begin to make sense again. it is relief and an honor and something i am very protective of at present. and proud too. not in an egotistical way, but that sense of pride everyone needs in order to keep chasing the dream... self-acceptance.

last night, i started reading "The Land of Green Plums" by Herta Muller. every single line, every word in this book is a fucking gem. and already, i am inspired in such deep, personal ways. it is shattering and lovely. i only got to page 17 before i decided to let all those words sit in my brain and my stomach overnight. she's a powerhouse. absolutely so. and something about the search for voice, the things i've been wrestling with, Richard Hugo's book, my own writing and the dreams i have for it, elsie on my living room wall, huge and beautiful and full of secrets, images images images and then the passage in her book on page 9:

"The child goes on talking. As she speaks, something gets stuck on her tongue. The child thinks, it can only be the truth sticking to her tongue like a cherrystone that refuses to go down. As long as her voice keeps rising to her ears, she will wait for the truth. But once her voice grows silent, thinks the child, everything will turn out to have been a lie, since the truth has tumbled down her throat. Because her mouth failed to say the words and ate them."

such a bell! such a bell rung out in me when i read this, curled up in my white quilt last night, such a huge haunted resonant thing cried along with this passage and i thought... isn't this what we artists are all doing??? talking, moving, exploring in order to stumble across small truths here and there? or at least to avoid the big lie? and when we stop trying, when our voices no longer vibrate in our own ears and we fall silent, the "lie" sweeps in. i tend to think of the Lie as resignation. i will not be resigned. no no no. there is coffee in my cup and huge canvasses clogging the living room and i finally got more of the lovely 9XXB pencils. there are books in the case and ideas everywhere and the sun is out and the dog is snoring sweetly next to me. the day is wide open. no resignation. none. never.

good morning!

friday morning hijinks!

wrestle around on the living room floor, get your dog in a leg lock, and grab your camera, kids!





Inga as Frank the Bunny


:)


p.s. polka dot pajamas: very necessary.

this day:

already, the fear upon waking that yesterday or last year or back when i was 5 i did something so horribly wrong that I MUST PAY! and then coffee. caffeinate myself entirely, control myself with sugar, forgive myself with sugar, well up courage girl the same way you make a pot of coffee. just hit that beautiful button and snoooooze for 10 more minutes.

already, i lay under the all-knowing lamp. the lamp. his lamp. my dentist. i have a healthy breed of masochism in me so that i do not, at all, not for one second, dread the dentist's chair. the pain he might decide to inflict on me really does make me a better human being.

already, i read Vanessa Place's "Achilles' Shield" and was sent reeling and then, as luck would have it, i opened my mailbox as i returned, love drunk from the dentist, to find her book Dies: A Sentence waiting for me.

and my brain is floaty and ridiculous. spilling spilling like sugar or coffee or drool on the bib at the dentist- the person you can not hide anything from. your lies will humiliate you should you try so DON'T. that lamp is all-knowing.

and for all these reasons and more, i will most likely take a nap and then watch Blue Velvet.

"What are you doing in my closet, Jeffery Beaumont?"

weekend bliss

my cell phone is off and after my last post i crawled under my big soft white quilt and lost all these day time hours to drawing. drawing drawing drawing and, between yesterday and today, my quilt smells like graphite dust. it is a nice smell to fall asleep to.

but now i am starving! and i think it might be taquito time. :)

today, under a hard rain

killing kanoko. the gold cell and the blackest graphite. stained hands. hand to mouth. black lips black tongue Blackland. the title changes. the name of a place. territories and evidences. this land. this type. this time.

a hard rain.

this day

black graphite all up and down my arms all over my wrists and across my cheek. coffee and icebergs and a television workout, The Bell Jar and Joan Jett.

:)

the sun is out and it's so bright and beautiful today! yay! it's damn cold though but i'll bundle up and spend as much time outside today as i can. i want spring back so bad and it is well on its way. the mustard is growing wild and tall and gorgeous already. there are orchids and daffodils peaking up at the low line of the forest and birds singing like crazy. it is beautiful. absolutely beautiful. and i talked to my mom this morning and she sounded so good- happy and healthy and it such a happy moment to hear her voice full of appreciation for this world and the simple beauties it contains. she always reminds me of those "small" wonders that are so easily overlooked. i am grateful for the reminder. endlessly. it is a good day and i feel renewed and inspired and content to be just where i am, doing what i do, and i know i am in the exact right place. maybe it's a day to make more moths. lay off the heavy shit for a bit. ha!

good

the rain flew sideways last night and hit the windows so hard that i woke up and couldn't fall asleep again until the wind finally blew in the opposite direction. spooky and magical and not at all unwelcome.

my small drawings have become a haven. new languages float and dive through the grey. i make myself a little nest in the big chair by the big window and listen to the storm and the wealth of birds fighting for the washed up worms. i curl in and get warm.

more and more, i am becoming myself.

more and more, i am letting go of the old hurts and horrors of the past. they suddenly seem so dated, so out of place. i nod at the old ghosts and move on, acknowledging their presence but turning off the haunt.

goodness...

i stayed tight and warm and away from most forms of technology this weekend and will resume this plan in just a few minutes because it has treated me so well the past few days. we had another little house-hunting adventure yesterday. the first house we saw has already been snapped up by some lucky person out there but no matter- there is something out there for us too and patience is what we'll need to find it. in the meantime i've been crocheting and painting little heartfelt pictures of words. the ground outside in the good light is still wet from the storm so i can't take pictures just yet but i'll have things to share soon. and last night i had a kind of dream i've never had before, at least not that i can remember. it was drawn. yep. and it was drawn in the style of the illustrations that are found in my childhood shell silverstien books. i dreamt i was a little scribble of a girl and i had a red balloon. the balloon was the only bit of color in the whole dream. everything else was black and white and scratchy. i had black and white striped stockings. i wore a little scratchy white dress and pig-tails in my hair. i was a little girl. little. myself as a child and very quiet. and i tied my balloon to the big limb of a tree just like a tire swing. but every time i tried to swing on my balloon, it would rise up, helium filled. when i backed away from it, it would lower itself again. i wasn't sad in the dream and woke up after trying to ride the balloon for the second time. i came out in to the living room to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and old footage of peewee's playhouse way back when it was a theater production. god bless peewee herman. paul rubens is a genius. it was perfect and happy and my sweetheart is starting a steak dinner for us. sunday. sweet and beautiful and warm. meka-leka-hi meka-hiney-ho.

under and over...

stitch, stitch, stitch, and twist. grey day. drizzle, drizzle. gold gouache and red glitter. a cranky rottweiler. rekindling. re-thinking. learn, push, pray. slowly, slowly now. easy, easy. gold and red and grey. twist. twist. rottweiler yawn. a trigger in black, breathing slow, easy now, curled up around my toes. the warmth continues to roll. the gold. the bows. the bows are tied. ribbons 'round my wrists and eyes. grey day. safe and low.

drizzle drizzle drizzle...

a storm has welled up overhead but is managing to hold itself together. the clouds are low and dark, turning from pale grey to slate, heavy over my little corner, sprinkles on the glass. it should undo itself this afternoon, says the forecast, says the neighbors. little little inga and i are curled up safe inside. she is dreaming in the big red chair, kicking out her little deer-like legs, snoring delicately, and small soft covetous barks. the heater is on. we are warm. i have my hooks and yarn to twist. the oil will wait today. the camera won't find good light to click in. i am happy anyway and words and words and words. my lover snuggled me awake. he snuggled me in his sleep. i brought him coffee in the shower and we laughed at ourselves all morning. i am happy. and the words are coming back. words and words and words.

sigh...

i cannot stress what an absolutely beautiful day it is today. just stunning. i took The Almighty Jog a bit earlier today and it was then that i noticed how beautiful it is where i live. the big rain that came through brought out so many green and pretty things and the air was fresh and clean and the sky was wide open, blue as blue can be, and i felt happy to be running through it all with my dog bouncing along at my side. i came home, measured my waist (because i haven't done that in a while and i'm supposed to be keeping track of this stuff) and discovered i've lost another inch! yay me! and so i tried on a pair of pants my tall, lean mama gave me about a year and a half ago - a pair of pants that are super cool but that i couldn't really fit in to - and THEY FIT! AHHHHHHHHHH! i've got 'em on right now! and not all squeezed in, suffocating, cutting off blood flow to my legs style either. i am COMFORTABLE in them! it's a wonderful, wonderful feeling! it's so nice to see the changes i'm trying to make in my life take root. it encourages me to show that same level of dedication and faithfulness in other areas of my life. areas where progress is sometimes hard to see and the reward for hard work is really the self-investigation that such changes require.

and i've been painting all day. it seems like it's been so long since i've painted ALL DAY LONG. and i have definitely missed the feeling. i feel so focused and calm today, so grateful for so many things. i guess the gratitude fridge is working some magic! it's nice to have all those reminders sitting there waiting to be read while i wash the dishes, make dinner, or even scan for midnight snacks. it's doing me a world of good right now and helping me to remain positive and objective about things. i feel encouraged and hopeful and just happy.

it is a beautiful day here. i hope it is where you are too. :)

brightness...

today the sun came out and i am endlessly grateful for it. i lost way too many days during the last week to rain and the resulting lethargy. but today, i climbed back on my good, grey horse and got down to some serious painting. the oils. oh, they smell so good! and they're beautiful too. i hope to prove that last statement here shortly. i'm going to try to hustle, hustle, hustle and get these big beauties wrapped up before a consistent winter sets in. and since i started them in 2009, i'd like to finish them in 2009. yep, thinking of the new year already... and resolutions- all the things i'd like to do and the things i'd like to change... the things i need to change. but i'm hopeful and that leads me to believe that great things can, in fact, be accomplished. today i made a list of all the things i'm grateful for. i wrote one thing on a post-it note, one right after the other, and covered my refrigerator with the little suckers, er, stickers. i've left them up all day, picking them up and sticking them back in their spot when they fall from their delicate hinge of weak adhesive. they make me happy and look like a pretty sweet piece of conceptual, post-modern installation. ha! maybe i'll take their picture. at any rate, it was a good way to start the day. it's a good way to keep the day good.

yes!

the weekend is here. and there are no rules. but there is required reading and black oil paint and black gouache and black ink. yes yes yes. and hazelnut coffee. plenty of hazelnut coffee. no. gratuitous coffee. copious amounts of coffee. all hazelnut, all the time. non-stop hazelnut. hazelnut til you drop. get some!

breathe hard...

already with my black oil this morning. already. :)
and tons of scribbling in my notebook too.

but The Jog awaits and i can't let up when it comes to that. 5 months in and 2 inches disappeared from my waistline, not to mention the wonderful wide-open calm that rolls in after breathing hard and stomping and sweating my way through the big ol' morning vineyard.

there are NO TRESPASSING signs up now but the owner said they don't apply to me so i am thankful for those signs. no bad-mood tourists to ruin my day at the start. no grimaces and judgement. tourists are full of grimaces and judgement. at least the ones who make their way out here. they are covered in sneers. i have no clue what that's about but it's true. it makes no sense. i'm glad they've been barred. the air and space is mine and the signs ensure i don't have to share it.

i'm beginning to feel pretty again. it's been awhile since i felt that way and it's nice. i've missed my angles. i'm happy to see them returning. i've got the same insecurities most women have and, yeah i know it's all unreasonable and blah blah blah, but i'm finally starting to feel strong again... and that's the thing i've missed most.

before i slipped that disk in my back (twice!), i felt strong and capable and i knew i was able to defend myself if i had to. for the past 2 years, i haven't felt that way at all. i couldn't defend myself one bit. now, 5 months in and 2 inches lost and all sorts of leg muscles later, i've at least got a fighting chance. i can at least out-run someone. and just knowing that i can if i had to makes me feel better, more capable, more independent, a bit less fearful, a bit less worrisome, and a lot more pretty. it's a good feeling and a good reason to keep it up.

and my little girl dog loves it too. she bounces along at my side and smiles at the world and on days when i don't want to do it for myself i do it for her. her happiness and health is way more important to me than my own and i don't let myself off the hook when it comes to that. it's my job to love her and give her the things she needs. it's my job to make sure she is healthy and happy and has space to play in. she likes the smells and the birds and the shade of the tall vines. she is always so excited, full of endless happiness when we head out to the vineyard. i aspire to be more like her in that regard- every day is the best day ever to her... and i want to feel that way too. The Jog can (and does) supply that.

once again, it's a morning thing. part of my wake-up.
why wait til the end of the day to feel that the day is good?