update
And I am relearning a curve, a height I forgot that is not easy to reach. It's a slow process to reorient my mind. I'm a little dizzy.
I'm making a piece about the flood. I am tripping over self-doubt because there isn't anything else to worry about at the moment. I'm using colors; it's a painting.
It's hard to know anything other than process. I can't see anything past process.
And I have three small-time jobs, just like that, matched with a full student schedule and (newfound) perseverance. This semester is the long haul. It is the most important semester in my college career.
My first critique is in two weeks. I have nestled down into drawing again; I am covering a large, square linoleum block. It smells and feels wonderful. I am not worried about that timeline; it will be completed with room to spare. I even know how to hang it.
Funny how my senior year of high school held similar imagery for me.
I am introduced to the importance of vacation and being centered, one quick step toward a decision and things fall into place.
Movement is hard for me. As of late, my mind has finally settled from previous trauma. I can't help snuggling down inside stability; starting clean from living without hope for years—I just wanted to preserve that cleanliness. Like a freshly laundered shirt.
So I skirted purchasing things and plunged into twelve hour sleeps. I learned a hard day's work, 9–5 to stay alive, and found no rewards. I wrote three pages a day, organized into annotating scripture in the morning, morphed into a real-live flood and plumbing issues. I was addressed internally, brought out externally, fussing the entire way.
Pointing fingers the entire way. Things have fallen apart before, it's material they say, and I know better. There's no issue, just slight inconvenience to move and do "a think about it."
And so I was brought to a land with misty rivers and sunsets that aren't seen through windows. A place that changes temperature without warning, dropping dead pine needles and rain occasionally.
Funny how just touching toes into cold spring water rearranges the soul.
Two days back to back of "9–5 just to stay alive," I submitted a writing and a proposal to respective individuals. A roving gift has set me spinning and I've appliquéd one south Vietnamese goat to muslin. House season 5 is almost complete and I am happy, consecutively happy for the first time in a long time.
Yesterday morning I remembered a distant relative of mine. I paused in the bathroom just before a shower and remembered her from last year. A call later that evening revealed her accident, that she had been hit by a car on her bike in the morning.
I learn this morning that a friend's younger brother broke his leg, and I'm here almost disbelieving. I suppose the new month of August is a good time as any to begin healing.
I have three projects waiting to be completed this week; I have yet to start any. I am almost kicking myself for missing a deadline earlier in the month. I have also forgotten to bring a ballpoint pen, let alone a pencil to draw with.
I've been relocated this week, living in two homes and trying to maintain balance.
Sometimes it's easier to ignore and ferment, even though the healthier option is to embrace and love.
I've been rewarded the past couple days with easy work schedules: reading Deleuze and magazines, holed up in a library. I wake up when the sun does, washing off the night. I write three pages on scripture handed to me on a small, white paper. I work from 8:30-5, eating when I can and running to meet plans, elsewhere. I am being called.
I have made it through two pages in The Fold: Leibniz and the Baroque, and I am hoping for another two today. Writing my notes just ten minutes ago, I knew déjà vu.
This means I am in the correct place. I am centered and moving on the right path.
Cold water rush of oil pastel drawing, I filled eight canvas pages last night. Detailed painting is coming soon.
Yet to have quiet time at work, so Folds research is fairly slow.
I haven't known color in over three years, just blue and values. I am wondering if this is immediately relevant to fold research or if I have finally built my foundation.
More green tea matcha, what a world needs.
Four projects from the master list in-progress, nearly all are housecleaning and strictly cosmetic. I've been swallowing House M.D. episodes as of late, the same disorganized gnat presenting himself periodically. I find myself salivating over House's think sessions, wanting the same filtered light and intense obsession.
Blessed amounts of alone time are longer than they appear. I deflect with the notion that soon the semester will begin, where sleepless nights are justified. Yet, objection rises minutes later when I am reminded the jail cell ends come this May...
Yes, I am still making things from muslin. No, I am not sleeping any easier.
The most important thing you will read today is "See it Again, Say it Again: The Artist as Researcher—Introduction" by Janneke Wesseling. I have finally ordered my copy of the book.
A few things to know if you don't have time to read the introduction:
I will finally begin rewriting my artist statement, hopefully reposted by the end of July (here I am, promising). Reading this introduction has given me the correct cornerstone and I am incredibly excited for the months to come.
Ventured into grad school research. I've skimmed several programs now and I still only love my first two choices. I have decided to pour my energy into them and we'll see what we will see.
You can buy Ayah's and my card (https://www.threadless.com/designs/a-birthday-card) at Target stores beginning June 16th, 2014.
I've completed two organized paintings; I am in need of a third plus two regular paintings before July 14th (a total of 5 paintings).
Sometimes it's easy to forget where a root is, how the trunk happens. I am having fun watching the universe make its own way for me.