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ok. maybe happier in general.
but not about everything.
the artStuff is breaking my heart. i didn’t want to think about it yesterday, because it is better to think about the good things on a day where it is easy to see how quickly the past 6 years have passed and does that mean the next 6 will pass as quickly and thinking of *that* number and wondering whether one would be any closer to one’s fucking Life. Long. Dream. than now? scary. waking-up-at-4:30am stuff. maybe writing will make it go out of my head.
for well over a year i have been *extremely* dissatisfied with my “artwork”. most of it is in the trash. or a box. there is nothing to show. i walk around constantly with ideas and images and possibilities in my head. i am constantly inspired. but my hands will not do it. i *am* adept and i am not dreaming outside reality, composing with materials i don’t have or things i am not capable of, etc. but my hands just Will. Not. Do. It. somehow there is a short somewhere between my hands and head again and i don’t know how to fix it.
i have been trying to work pale, with layers of transparent pales, for several years. color seems busy and dirty to me and i want pure. i can’t really describe. sometimes it has worked and i have been pleased, but of course i don’t want to make the same thing over and over. i want to progress. it is not that i am lazy and undisciplined. even with limited energy, and a companion, with whom it seems i do nothing but eat and watch Italian films and wander in nature and i’m not telling the rest, i sit myself down to the artTable several times a week after being at the office all day. i actually am doing *more* now, than i have been in the last year or so, where it was too easy to come home and plop down for the evening with a mystery and some wine and a bowl of white starch.
but i feel like i am moving backwards. i am not hypercritical of my own work. in fact, i am almost embarrassed how much i love it sometimes. i am known to secretly stroke a new piece and go “mmmmm”. i have a great tenderness for my images and my tangible work. just not lately. there is nothing good now. for over a year. yes, images. i like them still. but to me, they are not Tangible. until printed and matted, etc. and that is fine, but i want to *continue* them. objectify them beyond the traditional. maybe that is a bad idea? so i’ve tried to leave them out of new pieces, and just work with color and texture and abstractions. still … not working. so i end up piddling on a prepared book or some paper bits. wasting time. exercising, sure, but wasting …
my life.
and today i am the mother of yet another adult woman. well, a quasi-adult. my little Margaret is 18. the second greatest day of my life, when she was born.