.
sharing sweaters, counting days;
i go through my closet and pull dresses i haven't worn in years from their faithful hangers. i fold the garments and stack them politely in a bag meant for the consignment store, in a bag meant for the Goodwill. i retrieve unworn shoes from the back of the closet and wipe away the dust. i sneeze over and over again like a cartoon. i save the tshirts that maybe brian will want to wear.
there's something so endearing about looking up and seeing your lover wearing your clothes. i'm lucky to have spent so many years dressing in the armor of the Tom Boy - baggy shirts and over-sized hoodies - that i've got plenty for him to choose from. i get warm and sentimental when he pulls on my red and grey striped sweater i've owned since i was 15, the same sentimental warmth that finds me when i focus on the fact that we share the same tooth brush. there's really no reason to have two.
i've gotta say, 2014 was a good year. i fell in love over and over again.
i fell in love with a man who has ended up being my best friend. it's a pretty wonderful feeling. throughout the night, we turn to each other in our sleep and let our hands run softly down the curve of each others' back, knee cap, or eyebrow. it's no small event to me. it's no small event in my life to feel this safe on a regular basis. this safe, this appreciated, this understood. i feel lucky everyday. and bewildered.
i fell in love with art again (again and always), particularly drawing. such a beautiful, wonderful return; a piece of myself waking up after a long, agitated slumber. i return, hot and heavy, to those black lines and shadows, spilled ink and graphite stuck below my cuticles. i'm surprised i went so long without seriously drawing but, then again, it makes sense. crochet is such a comfort. not just the things that i learned how to craft, but the act itself. a rhythm. a ritual. a cradle being rocked.
so much of the last 3 years has been about repair. so many of my actions and decisions and whims have been an attempt to heal. i can see that now. and as i move in to this new year, i largely feel that that Healing has been had.
for as strange as this might sound, it is a little scary.
what will my voice be like now?
i pull a pale blue button-down from its hanger. i go on sorting and considering, attempting to make room for a new beginning. i look at each article of clothing and, rather than ask myself if i want it, i ask myself "do i want this to follow me in to a new life?" i think of Sartre, of his eloquent proposition that there is always "a virgin future waiting to be forged" and know that i am standing at that edge, that place where one sees the mountain in front of them and knows that they will climb it, the first step having already been taken.
i thin my possessions. i pull an unfinished drawing from my portfolio and grab my pencil. i turn on my computer, log in to this space and start hitting the keys, not because i have anything in particular to say, i simply have the urge to speak. i'm learning that this urge is something to revere. this urge is something to give in to. it is how my future will be forged. it has always been forged this way. it is how i will come to know how to use my new voice. it is how i will come to know this new "me". it is how i become less and less afraid.
.
Showing posts with label new year. Show all posts
Showing posts with label new year. Show all posts
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 31, 2013
keep a diary
i started reading my January diary from last year. it is such an odd experience. i've been meaning to go back for awhile and read what life used to be like but i somehow couldn't stomach actually doing it until now. there are no real horrors there (none that i remember anyway), simply a need to stay put in the present. but ever since the calender changed and a new year sat down coolly on the edge of the bed i've felt a need to return to those ink-flooded pages and get an idea of how much life has truly changed during the last 12 months. and can i just say: holy shit!
looking at words that are most definitely written in my script but espousing beliefs and attractions i no longer hold is straight up fucking weird. and it isn't that i've changed so drastically so much as i've flowered. i've become more myself; a deeper, more honest version of myself. still, i have a great deal in common with the girl i was a year ago. it is painful to read about the dreams i held then and the massive effort it took to keep them alive inside such a degrading, sterile environment. it's hard to read about the collapse of a friend's marriage but then be reminded of how that event awoke the strength in me to leave a situation that wasn't right for me. the people i've met since that time all stare at me wide-eyed when i say i've only been single for a year. "you've come such a long way!" my roommate tells me and i can't help but think i have so much further to go. for however far i've come, there is a great distance in front of me. as i leaf through last year's diary, i am struck by the fact that my primary goals at that time were applying to residencies and undertaking ever bolder art practices. i was thinking of performance, as spurred on by the creation of the Sweaters of Death, and ways to enact my artistic interests on the street. i was enamoured of Francesca Woodman and David Wojnarowicz. i began writing on abandoned couches. i wrote on stickers and put them on the street. i'd go home and be lectured about my behavior: a clear sign i was in the wrong place.
it's funny to think that i've looped back around to certain interests and concerns after a year of living and exploring. writing on the street, installing pieces outside where they might be enjoyed or sabotaged or taken by other people; how fashion operates on the sidewalk, how words inhabit (and create) a/the world. but more importantly, exploration itself and discovery itself, adventure and bravery were the big goals of mine then. i wanted passion in my life. i wanted to be enveloped by it, ensnared in it, covered in its sweat and saliva. i am glad that i have allowed myself more than one so-called indiscretion during this time. i am glad to have spent so many nights dancing and drinking. i am glad to have met new people and followed them down the street. i have made some very good friends this year whom i absolutely adore. i am thankful to have actually, finally lived this passed year. i have no apologies to make and i'm not embarrassed of anything i've done. if anything, i feel adorned by the experiences i've had. i feel more alive and more beautiful now than i did without them. i feel wiser now and that is a spectacular thing for someone who has often been accused of being naive to feel.
in some ways, i'm doing it all for the photograph that results. in some ways, i'm doing it all for the poetry that comes flooding out in to my diary. in most ways, i'm doing it because i can't help it. but just like last year, i have no clue what is in store for me next, only that i feel such a deep hunger to find the place i truly belong and to do the bold work i long to do.
looking at words that are most definitely written in my script but espousing beliefs and attractions i no longer hold is straight up fucking weird. and it isn't that i've changed so drastically so much as i've flowered. i've become more myself; a deeper, more honest version of myself. still, i have a great deal in common with the girl i was a year ago. it is painful to read about the dreams i held then and the massive effort it took to keep them alive inside such a degrading, sterile environment. it's hard to read about the collapse of a friend's marriage but then be reminded of how that event awoke the strength in me to leave a situation that wasn't right for me. the people i've met since that time all stare at me wide-eyed when i say i've only been single for a year. "you've come such a long way!" my roommate tells me and i can't help but think i have so much further to go. for however far i've come, there is a great distance in front of me. as i leaf through last year's diary, i am struck by the fact that my primary goals at that time were applying to residencies and undertaking ever bolder art practices. i was thinking of performance, as spurred on by the creation of the Sweaters of Death, and ways to enact my artistic interests on the street. i was enamoured of Francesca Woodman and David Wojnarowicz. i began writing on abandoned couches. i wrote on stickers and put them on the street. i'd go home and be lectured about my behavior: a clear sign i was in the wrong place.
it's funny to think that i've looped back around to certain interests and concerns after a year of living and exploring. writing on the street, installing pieces outside where they might be enjoyed or sabotaged or taken by other people; how fashion operates on the sidewalk, how words inhabit (and create) a/the world. but more importantly, exploration itself and discovery itself, adventure and bravery were the big goals of mine then. i wanted passion in my life. i wanted to be enveloped by it, ensnared in it, covered in its sweat and saliva. i am glad that i have allowed myself more than one so-called indiscretion during this time. i am glad to have spent so many nights dancing and drinking. i am glad to have met new people and followed them down the street. i have made some very good friends this year whom i absolutely adore. i am thankful to have actually, finally lived this passed year. i have no apologies to make and i'm not embarrassed of anything i've done. if anything, i feel adorned by the experiences i've had. i feel more alive and more beautiful now than i did without them. i feel wiser now and that is a spectacular thing for someone who has often been accused of being naive to feel.
in some ways, i'm doing it all for the photograph that results. in some ways, i'm doing it all for the poetry that comes flooding out in to my diary. in most ways, i'm doing it because i can't help it. but just like last year, i have no clue what is in store for me next, only that i feel such a deep hunger to find the place i truly belong and to do the bold work i long to do.
Dec 27, 2012
while i'm young i wanna have FUN FUN FUN
and cry cry cry. i want to think of your body, so far away, the way it lay shivering beneath my lips, my hot hands, my wishes for a better future.
but what of the future? the new year is so close. she presses against me like an invalid needing to be carried, needing to be seated on some cold throne; needing milk or meat or salt. and i want to please her. i do. i want to be obedient and diligent. i want to be thoughtful and poetic. i want to be ABLE. the new year breathes against my neck and i wish it were the hot breath of a lover. that hunger. that dire need. that ache. maybe it is. while i listen to Lou Reed and drink the apple/vanilla/peppermint vodka my beautiful Annie gave me for Christmas, i think of the year about to be born. what sheets lay waiting to be tangled beneath my body? what fist might in catch my hair? what page might catch what horribly hot poem, what anxiety ridden wish, what letter to my mother written far far far too late? can i bend beneath your heat, sir? can i bend beneath your lips? because i have enough Truth within me, i am not seeking it from you. i want only the external, the expression, the slip of sweat and spit. you owe me nothing and i would love to bear witness to that fact. let my body and face be a record of all that you DO NOT OWE ME.
(it is always a slightly scary moment when one wonders if a lover has yet googled their name.)
but what is it i am after, exactly? what is it i long for? every day i hunger after something. i ache and ache and ache. i type the words, i let my ink spill, i twist my wool and fashion myself a new poem, a new blanket, a new prayer. and yet? and yet? and yet? i am without. i am hungry. i need a new scene. a Poetry i can curl below as if it were a man. i need a Poetry i can be afraid of. a Poetry with some weight.
i need a Poetry with a fist.
we count down the days. we pour the alcohol in to our cups. we wish for the best. do we think of our mothers? we think of ourselves. we bend to the wind of desire and wait to be kissed. we hang up our clothes and pretend to be good.
but what of the future? the new year is so close. she presses against me like an invalid needing to be carried, needing to be seated on some cold throne; needing milk or meat or salt. and i want to please her. i do. i want to be obedient and diligent. i want to be thoughtful and poetic. i want to be ABLE. the new year breathes against my neck and i wish it were the hot breath of a lover. that hunger. that dire need. that ache. maybe it is. while i listen to Lou Reed and drink the apple/vanilla/peppermint vodka my beautiful Annie gave me for Christmas, i think of the year about to be born. what sheets lay waiting to be tangled beneath my body? what fist might in catch my hair? what page might catch what horribly hot poem, what anxiety ridden wish, what letter to my mother written far far far too late? can i bend beneath your heat, sir? can i bend beneath your lips? because i have enough Truth within me, i am not seeking it from you. i want only the external, the expression, the slip of sweat and spit. you owe me nothing and i would love to bear witness to that fact. let my body and face be a record of all that you DO NOT OWE ME.
(it is always a slightly scary moment when one wonders if a lover has yet googled their name.)
but what is it i am after, exactly? what is it i long for? every day i hunger after something. i ache and ache and ache. i type the words, i let my ink spill, i twist my wool and fashion myself a new poem, a new blanket, a new prayer. and yet? and yet? and yet? i am without. i am hungry. i need a new scene. a Poetry i can curl below as if it were a man. i need a Poetry i can be afraid of. a Poetry with some weight.
i need a Poetry with a fist.
we count down the days. we pour the alcohol in to our cups. we wish for the best. do we think of our mothers? we think of ourselves. we bend to the wind of desire and wait to be kissed. we hang up our clothes and pretend to be good.
Dec 29, 2010
?
.
i love the text printed across the front of the magazine; the confused question: you want me to say who i am? and as i read it, i feel the same curious pull inside my brain, wondering which title she will present. fashion model? daughter? so and so's girlfriend? woman? human?
my titles are shifting. i would not be sure how to answer this question if it were posed to me. i would shuffle my feet and look away, blush a bit, shrug my shoulders, get misty eyed for the titles i no longer carry... and the titles that have had a number placed on their days.
i am deeply sad. i'm not sure what is and is not okay to talk about here. i'm not sure how much of myself should be ante-ed up here. i don't know where the line is and i don't know what is expected of me... as a daughter. as a particular person's daughter. i don't know how silent i should be.
there is a massive tragedy going on in my family.
that's all i feel comfortable saying right now.
the new year will happen in 2 days. i have been writing and working almost constantly. i am getting antsy. i'm not waiting for the new year to actually start making good on my resolutions, i just want the ritual. i love the ritual. as if the day isn't real unless it is crowned. a coronation.
.
i love the text printed across the front of the magazine; the confused question: you want me to say who i am? and as i read it, i feel the same curious pull inside my brain, wondering which title she will present. fashion model? daughter? so and so's girlfriend? woman? human?
my titles are shifting. i would not be sure how to answer this question if it were posed to me. i would shuffle my feet and look away, blush a bit, shrug my shoulders, get misty eyed for the titles i no longer carry... and the titles that have had a number placed on their days.
i am deeply sad. i'm not sure what is and is not okay to talk about here. i'm not sure how much of myself should be ante-ed up here. i don't know where the line is and i don't know what is expected of me... as a daughter. as a particular person's daughter. i don't know how silent i should be.
there is a massive tragedy going on in my family.
that's all i feel comfortable saying right now.
the new year will happen in 2 days. i have been writing and working almost constantly. i am getting antsy. i'm not waiting for the new year to actually start making good on my resolutions, i just want the ritual. i love the ritual. as if the day isn't real unless it is crowned. a coronation.
.
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?
Jan 1, 2009
and so it begins...
a brand new year. and i must say, i am so glad to finally see it arrive! i know not to expect miracles but having the ritual, the marker of one year ending and another beginning, does wonders for a person's outlook. it does for me at least. every January first, for as long as i can remember, has been filled with such a sense of possibility and a renewed sense of strength and drive.
though i've rarely participated in the making of resolutions, this year i thought i'd give it a whirl- the first big bad resolution on my long, long list is to blog every day. and that is going to be a feat. how many days go by that i feel too tired or too discouraged or simply too bored to write here? i figure if i force the issue, really make a concentrated effort to use the potential of this space, i'll be a much happier, smarter person next year; and (hopefully) a better writer as well.
other resolutions? tons. most are art related: finishing a new body of work, finding a second gallery, posting new available work at my shop at least once a week, going to all the openings i can, and doing tons of grant writing.
the loftier goals of continuing to learn about (and write) poetry, begin taking photographs again, reading great books, making myself a sweater, learning German, and things like that are part of an endless stream of ever-growing quirky, quaint desires that i hope to finally make time for this year and throw some real energy toward. i've wanted to make myself a sweater for years and just haven't managed to sit down and do it. all those little things that get put on the back-burner, saved for a rainy afternoon in-doors, or are just fun to daydream about, i plan to bring to the fore-front of my life. i've got the time to cater to those things now that one degree is in the bag and it'll be a few more years before i make my way to grad school... so why not? if i don't start chipping away at all my little dreams now, what will become of them? i'd rather spend the time re-prioritizing and begin living a more fulfilled existence than lose sight of the little things that make me happiest.
last night, i worked in the studio from 10pm to 1 am, breaking only to get my midnight kiss. i wanted to end one year and begin the next doing what i value most. it's a wonderful way to ring in the new year. way better than getting shit-faced (in my opinion, anyway).
i hope everyone had a wonderful time last night, remained safe, and felt alive and happy. i'm so excited about all the new art that will be made this year, about stumbling across new artists to admire, about learning and working and wondering. i hope everyone feels the same sense of encouragement and dedication that i feel right now. and feel free to remind me of this feeling in the coming months when i'm worn out, forlorn, and cynical. :) happy new year!
though i've rarely participated in the making of resolutions, this year i thought i'd give it a whirl- the first big bad resolution on my long, long list is to blog every day. and that is going to be a feat. how many days go by that i feel too tired or too discouraged or simply too bored to write here? i figure if i force the issue, really make a concentrated effort to use the potential of this space, i'll be a much happier, smarter person next year; and (hopefully) a better writer as well.
other resolutions? tons. most are art related: finishing a new body of work, finding a second gallery, posting new available work at my shop at least once a week, going to all the openings i can, and doing tons of grant writing.
the loftier goals of continuing to learn about (and write) poetry, begin taking photographs again, reading great books, making myself a sweater, learning German, and things like that are part of an endless stream of ever-growing quirky, quaint desires that i hope to finally make time for this year and throw some real energy toward. i've wanted to make myself a sweater for years and just haven't managed to sit down and do it. all those little things that get put on the back-burner, saved for a rainy afternoon in-doors, or are just fun to daydream about, i plan to bring to the fore-front of my life. i've got the time to cater to those things now that one degree is in the bag and it'll be a few more years before i make my way to grad school... so why not? if i don't start chipping away at all my little dreams now, what will become of them? i'd rather spend the time re-prioritizing and begin living a more fulfilled existence than lose sight of the little things that make me happiest.
last night, i worked in the studio from 10pm to 1 am, breaking only to get my midnight kiss. i wanted to end one year and begin the next doing what i value most. it's a wonderful way to ring in the new year. way better than getting shit-faced (in my opinion, anyway).
i hope everyone had a wonderful time last night, remained safe, and felt alive and happy. i'm so excited about all the new art that will be made this year, about stumbling across new artists to admire, about learning and working and wondering. i hope everyone feels the same sense of encouragement and dedication that i feel right now. and feel free to remind me of this feeling in the coming months when i'm worn out, forlorn, and cynical. :) happy new year!
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