She

Final critique over; final research paper turned in; yet for Thanksgiving. I have been asleep since Mercury went into retrograde, finally waking to Taylor Swifts' "Blank Space" this morning. 

Funny how one professor can move me from a complete sprint to sitting in two months. I began the semester telling myself I am taller than I think. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that I have a choice. I am no longer pushed on, my reaction as the chess move; instead, I am on the fold imminent. I know I can lead while in motion and not wait for an invitation.

Reorientation

I've wrestled with a new eye prescription for two weeks now, my brain fighting to understand seeing clearly. This parallels the "critical distance" I am relearning. Absent-minded for a month, and daylight savings grounded me.

I am rewriting cover letters, artist statements, purpose statements. The editing never ceases.

I will finish my folds project before this week is over.

With Bated Breath

Third studio visit this semester tomorrow morning. I've begun my research for the Rothko paper, one month and counting to finish it (writing that sentence caused an enormous burst of adrenaline). Still to write a cover letter to approach a gallery for my senior thesis show. 

I have also begun "setting the folds" in my current project. It is exciting for it to come together.

I went to the dentist last week. My roommate's parents also visited. The next time I see both parties I will know what my future holds right after graduation. 

After

Midterms and flying colors and she wants, no more. A certain generosity when I need to wait. I felt uphill, I only knew perpendicular trails this past week. The end of workload means more workflow.

Inescapable, this haunt about "after." After a bachelor's degree, after growing and living in a place so strong, after being torn apart and folded back together. The same noise that begs at an inevitable ending. I am just as scared as I was seven years ago.

Some Time Before

Right quick, before I run to studio—

A misstep yesterday turned into an adventure with one breath, a wealth of love and my need to lay things down. I completed first round of sericin reduction and am about to dye a light shade of new black for the silk organza piece. Yet to begin small samples on various polyester fabrics. I am still researching folds.

Again to study for a midterm, to make two responses and read some smart things. Still to write and organize two research papers. Self-diagnosing thirty minute naps after 2 hour studying sessions.

I am holding my hands against the nitpicking I am not enough. One day I'll remember to stop and meditate on the color blue long enough to clear my head.

It rained and steam rose from the pavement.

I've set my research deep inside folds and I have too many canvases to love. Stuck on The Heist, stuck on WWII, stuck on. No more floundering, just forward movement, when. Set free, you say.

I can't decide to commit a year in advance, let alone a week in advance. I'm allergic, I say.

I will restart my five artworks. I have enough blank pages.