Sunday, March 18, 2018
I've done a weeks worth of demos for the students, but haven't really started anything of my own yet, and I have quite a bit of trepidation about starting. I will try and work on the weekends, but have already seen, with this weekend almost gone, and next to nothing done(a trip into Spruce Pine, the nearest town, to buy art and household supplies)how quickly it goes by. I will be way out of my comfort zone in terms of my ways of working, plus my normal, extreme anxiety anytime I start something new. I'm going to try and post every few weeks as we progress, so, sit tight, and send a few creative prayers my way.
Sunday, February 25, 2018
Years passed, and I learned not to use food to avoid my problems, instead, dealing with those problems directly. In 1997 I did this painting. At the opening of the exhibit that included it I noticed a young woman standing in front of the painting, rocking from side to side, clearly distressed. My memory is that she was very thin, slight and probably in her mid twenties. I asked her if I could help her, and she turned to me, and said, in a very angry voice, "Why did you do this? Why? And what does the red mean anyway?"*. I don't remember how I replied, only that later I found out that she was from a very wealthy family in Canada and came to live at a resort in Tucson every winter, which is where the exhibit was. She was, of course, struggling with her own overwhelming and destructive eating disorder. I wished I could have helped her in some way, but, of course, I never saw her again.
*The red path refers to the cessation of periods in women with eating disorders
Sunday, February 11, 2018
Sunday, January 21, 2018
I was there on the opening night to give a walk through to a full gallery, probably 45-50 people. I went through the gallery selecting images that were especially important or timely for me to talk about, and discussed as well my techniques and processes. People asked questions so that I could fill in what I do, what I think about, and what I react to when I work. It was a truly wonderful evening for me, seeing all my children, lined up on the wall, patiently waiting to be appreciated. I felt proud, a little overwhelmed, and extremely grateful.
There are people like Paula Tognarelli in the art world, but they are few and far between. She is one of those unique people who love art and artists and have the means and the where-with-all to support us on the rough and tumble journey that we have chosen to take as creative people. It was a night like no other for me, and I can only give thanks to the art gods(and Paula)for having made it happen.
*To see and read about some of the work in the show you can follow this link
Friday, December 29, 2017
By the next day, from credit card receipts which my sister had access to, we were able to track her voyage, from 2:30 in the afternoon in Santa Fe, to the last place she stopped for gas at 4:00 a.m. in Roswell, New Mexico, 200 miles to the south. In the meantime, a "Silver Alert" had been issued for her describing an 88 year old gray haired Hispanic woman driving a brown Honda CRV with a brown Aussie mix dog in the back(she isn't Hispanic). The alert scrolled across the bottom of the screen during the late news and then again in the morning. About 9:00 a.m., as we were getting ready to head back to Albuquerque(60 miles away), we heard a knock at the door. It was my mother. She had almost no memory of where she had gone or what she had done, just that she knew not to let the gas run out, and that she had made it back on her own. I took the car and drove it over to a neighbors so that she wouldn't have access to it, and was accused having always wanted to get her car away from her. We have no idea where she went(other than the credit card receipts), or what was calling to her that would cause her to drive for over 19 hours, in the dead of night, refusing to ask for help.
Sunday, December 17, 2017
Noun: a possibility of something happening;
the occurrence and development of events in the absence of any obvious design
Adjective: fortuitous; accidental;
Verb: do something by accident or without design;
do (something) despite its being dangerous or of uncertain outcome
Recently, I've found myself only interested in creating things that happen by mistake. It's very "listen to the sound of one hand clapping" because I can want it, and want it desperately, but I can't make it happen. Woman Dancing(with Purple) was formed when I pulled the tape off of the hard edged line I was trying to make. The paint on top came up in a big chunk, revealing the purple and black painting underneath. Revealed, it was, of course, the body of the purple woman.
Sunday, November 26, 2017
I don't know how they do it. Our parents are fading, fragile, and under the constant decay of dementia, which is eroding away what little memory they have left. Once they are gone, I'm not sure what will tie us siblings together. Taking the responsibility of their care has already caused large riffs between us, and as we've aged, the things that bothered us slightly 40 years ago are now huge issues that we can't talk about. There is anger, resentment, and in some cases, because of the current political climate, horrible exchanges on social media. And even within the close circle of our immediate family we have altercations that seem absurd, small things that blow up out of all proportion. I wish I knew the answers to making a family work, but I don't, and I worry that if we can't even work out our familial issues, then what hope do we have for running a country or a world.