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Maybe I'm wandering
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I'm doing what we at the co-op call a "wander and cry" week. I thought I was just taking a week off, but it turns out I needed to go digging around in the depths of my psyche.
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What an adventurous week I had, delving into letters. First written letters from the past and then giant letters on a stage. I had the input of mountains and the output of... Well art, I guess. I made art. I started an installation piece. It isn't finished yet. My intention is to figure out what it needs to be done, then take it to my office, which looks like a gallery, and photograph it.
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I worked in my studio, which is a room of my own that I will start calling the studio (instead of "the roof").
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A piece of art doesn't mean anything to anyone until they fall into the concept and even then who knows if they understand. They. The invisible no ones. They are the people that might some day be in some way moved by the life we have been living and in the mean time my brain fucking hurts.
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It was supposed to be a week of vacation but it was something else entirely. I bought myself breakfast at a cafe in the old city. I took myself to the Ostrale Biennial, which was excellent. I went to the theater, and I used a circular saw with not even a little reckless abandon.
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Maybe I need help?
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Doug shared this podcast about Ambition vs Aspiration, which I listened to while wandering and crying.
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My ambition is simply to stay afloat, be "successful" enough to maintain my lifestyle. My aspirations, though, are these:
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- Authenticity: No more self censorship
- Confidence: Owning my own story
- Art/Writing: Process it all creatively in a form that others value
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I didn't read the news, I experienced my insides. That was news enough. It was mostly trying, to say the least. I did, however, buy a pineapple plant, so all is right with the world.
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