I LOVE WRITING I LOVE CREATING I LOVE DRAWING I LOVE SINGING I LOVE COLLAGING I LOVE LAUGHING
So:Why haven't I been doing those things?
Easy, I've been scrolling.
I've been scrolling and I've been pulled into too many conversations about problems I can't solve.
Seems like I should really get back to doing the things I love, eh?
A quick story for you then. I had been waiting to post photos of my Officially Official Studio, because I was feeling like it wasn't quite ready to share it officially. humph. Telling.
Last Thursday, I was all set to have a full day working on collages. I went out and turned on the space heaters, and then went back inside to put on some layers, take Talí (Taliesen Talisker the Talisman/ Wizard Pup/ Baby Dragon) on our daily walk, and then, you know, get to it. As I was trying to put on my socks (this is a task that takes maneuvering when you have a Taliesen Talisker the Talisman around) I smelled THAT smell. It's so distinct. It's the smell of brain cells working, it's the smell of sci-fi action movie climaxes, it's the smell of hot glue guns. It's the smell of, uh Oh.
So, I ran to the studio, yanked Out everything that was plugged In, and face timed my dad. Retired Electrician. He instilled a very healthy respect for electricity in me. I don't mess around. The studio electric is tied to the house electric, and the house electric in the laundry room is from the 40's. Way outta my league. But I found where the smell was coming from.
Hence the above photo. Never woulda found that color scheme if I hadn't almost burned the whole thing down.
Six to eight weeks till we get it all worked on. Electricians have quite the waiting lists.
I will not spend Six to Eight more weeks Scrolling, I'll tell you that.
More soon. ~k.
(PS excuse the uhhhh, expressive use of grammar and editing, or non-editing)
The Plane Tickets are Booked.
I am having the most interesting washes of feelings passing over my little heart and my little brain.
In less than 90 days I will leave the place I have stubbornly called home the last 13 years for the wild (so I hear) coast of Ireland. Trading One Northwest for Another.
I'm going to have to write a lot about this.
There is nothing quite like being extremely inspired and then having to wait to start working on projects.
Warning, The following post has a bit of Woo.
The Day is Grey.
I am sitting inside the BlackJack Bioregional Infoshop.
I used to write all the time, back when the blog was at www.artappropriatelyamiss.blogspot.com That was before there was facebook to suck my brain out, endless scrolling without much substance. It isn't serving me, though every once in a while, friends post things like this.
Perhaps it is time to get back to the writing. To return to the sketch o' the day to which I was so faithful last year. Perhaps it is time to trade mindless scrolling for these things. Or at least trade the computer screen for the wood stove, stare into the flickering light of a fire for a few hours and dream.
I was joking last night to a friend, we were talking about the Januaries. I struggle in the winter, I told her, because I think my ancestors spent their winters differently- they were either holed up in cozy Norwegian and Hebridean cottages next to fires with storytelling and sleeping for the darkest months- or they were on their Viking ships in the Caribbean.
The point of this blog today- there is none. No point except to start the words tumbling again.
The old fairytales have it right. They talk about classism, violence, anger; but with whimsical characters. I’m not so much putting human conditions on the animals, as I am using them as stand ins for humans. I can’t effectively collage a portrait of a refugee, but I can create a portrait of a lowly pigeon. I can’t tell a story about how complicated the relationship is between opposing dogmas, but I can create a curious relationship between what is typically known as predator and prey. With a luscious palette, with the gold leaf, with the approachable animals; maybe I can succeed in creating a space of thoughtfulness: a place that allows for contemplating and valuing relationships that are overlooked.
There always seems to come a time when I have spent energy on a big artistic push, and the sense of completion starts to fade, and I wonder whether or not I will ever make anything again.
It's irrational. I know the feeling won't stay (praise the heavens), but I often find myself in my panic. It is in these times that I rearrange furniture and clean my studio, debate shaving my head, and then look to my muses for distractions/inspirations.
Today's distraction/inspirational idea comes from the ever amazing Neko Case. In between ever amusing tweets about stacking wood and dead items her cat brings her (that jerk) was this gem. "Find a question and fall in love with it."
Creative Brain becomes a crash test dummy.
What does it look like to fall in love with a question? Would you pursue it, be infatuated by it, think about it all the damn time, learn all the facets of it, be mesmered by it, look at it from the passenger side as you drive north at sunset, enjoying all the curves of it's silhouetted face? Would you whisper it under your breath in different accents, write it in cursive on scrap pieces of paper? Would you tattoo it on yourself? Would you become so intimate with this question that you start to smell like your question? Start to look like your question? But then, what about the answer? Does it then become a love triangle? Why am I personifying the question? Why can't I love the question like I love my dog? Why does the question have to give me something in return? Is the question a practical one? Or a rhetorical one?
My brain wants to go on and on and on about both the nature of love and the nature of questions and the nature of answers, but that would distract from the instruction.
"Find a question and fall in love with it."
(to be continued when I find a question)
I have lots. About art, life, creativity, earth, love, etc.