For a while that's all I could muster though Bare bones, basics. Straight facts So I remained recluse.
What I am saying here, now, after two weeks of stewing, is mainly my admission of just that. I have been stewing in the throes of grief- solitary, paper-thin, teary-eyed and emotional Ungrounded. To say the least Tethered to the world that exists by just a mere- but sturdy- thread....it must have been silk.
For, the storm has passed for now, for the moment, and I am here to re-emerge intact.
When I withdraw this far into my turtle shell of loss and grieving over my dear mom, I don't often create visually My focus just isn't there It seems meaningless or trite or pointless then- So instead I take to constructing poems from a pile of sentence fragments, phrases, and words lain out before me. Its a psyche check-in, I like to think. If you "follow" me, you know the drill...
There's a series developing- aptly called "grief: part _____"
and they go like this:
|grief: part one, 6/28/2011|
|grief: part two, 7/12/2011|
|grief: part three, 9/8/2011|
In the midst of my floating, hanging by that paradoxically strong single thread,
I worked on the tiniest paintings
(each roughly 1 1/2" x 2 1/4" on wood scrap)
I made some new works, and managed to put them on my website
I have been inspired by these new-found blogs/artists:
...for totems I dig the Village Dog
...which directed me to the work of Gala Bent and her blog called drifts and scatters (how fun!)
...and this work of Gordon Cheung's ....
....and do you know about Amargosa? There's a fabulous documentary to do justice to the tale of lovely Marta Becket, a total inspiration for the way to shape one's artist-life. I cheers to that ...and to the grace and commitment to know when to bow out, and when to drive hard, re-emerge.