Gleaming Lark

conceived in the ship, coming to terms in the tower

in process. i.e. not finished.

they remind me of icebergs, flowers, coral reefs, vintage fabric, and satellite images of earth.  floating objects kissing in space.  i don't know where they are coming from.  it's that neon on natural that i find so fascinating, and looking so closely at something you don't understand what it is.  microscopic . . .there is no forest, only trees.

grudgingly

very close to the end of my senior honors project in college, my advisor said to me, 'i don't believe that this piece ends in alienation- i don't believe that your conclusion isn't positive'.  i had choreographed a 12 minute piece, with three different sections, based on my re-integration into the states after being in west africa for a year.  it was all about relationships and the lack of real contact between people due to the digital revolution in America.  i remember, at the time, feeling desperate.  i had poured my heart and soul into this piece, and was very ready for it to be over.  i had just choreographed the last section, a solo piece, and wanted to end it there.  my advisor pushed me further.  he argued that my other dancers should 'make an appearance' at the end because he didn't believe that the statement i was making about human contact was that we would all end alone.

well, here i am again.  at the point of finishing.  in a holding place. wanting it all to end, and knowing, as my advisor did, that i must push myself to that last step. . .the one that says; i hope and i wish and i dream it will manifest and not peeter out in impatience, negativity, and self-doubt. since last summer i have been submitting and trying and wishing with all my might for a show.  in the last 4 weeks i have been invited to have two.  one a solo show, one a group show. 
tomorrow morning the curator for the group show is coming over to look at the work i will be showing.  it is all done except for the framing.
and a couple of rhinestones.
and a little enamel.
but all in all it will take, oh, maybe 2 hours.
and yet,
i am petrified of finishing.  i dread taking these pieces to the frame shop.
i keep telling myself it is the money.
but i know it's not.

and i am right back in college listening to the echo of my advisor saying
' i don't believe that it ends this way '
a disbelief at me turning my back on human connection,
or in this case,
giving in to doubt.

i guess why i am writing all this is because even i don't believe it anymore.  i haven't wanted to blog lately because i feel uninspired and kind of stuck about this whole finishing thing and yet i know, i really KNOW that i will emerge, that this will pass, and that never have i proven to let doubt win.  at least not ultimately. and writing about it is an attempt to de-mystify the stuckness, call it what it is, and move on. 

and even if i'm sick of talking about it, and listening to the tapes in my head, the only way to remove the cassette is to say it out loud and walk out on a branch in the hopes that others are struggling with some similar things.

recently i re-read the best book on making art of all time.  it's called 'writing down the bones' by natalie goldberg.  every time i read it i feel so grateful that she took the time and energy to talk about her process- because although i must walk my path alone in this- it helps so much that she wrote whole chapters on self-doubt, obsessions, practice, and perserverance.  she writes:
"every other month i am ready to quit writing.  the inner dialogue goes something like this: "this is stupid, i am making no money, there's no career in poetry, no one cares about it, it's lonely, i hate it, it's dumb, i want a regular life.'
if we don't admit to these voices, we can never really quiet them enough to make.
the best moment is when i truly admit to having no idea why i'm choosing this path, in the knowing that there is no security in it at all, and then sitting down to draw. 

and for living proof, you'll see that i titled this blog 'grudgingly' because i didn't want to start writing.  i didn't want to give voice to my fears and doubts and my un-inspired tapes and yet- here i am, at the end, remembering what it feels like to admit to all of them, shrug my shoulders, and make a picture anyways...i am at the end feeling what it feels like to write them down, and somehow release them, if ony for a moment long enough to begin, to take a chance-
i live for that moment where i desire to begin-
and it's here finally, 
all due to talking about framing this:

it's amazing, really, what a chandelier can do to my psyche. . .

doubt.

sometimes i wonder how i organize an entire art show for 75 kids and can't seem to do that very thing for myself.  i'm amazed at how easy it is to believe in the children i teach, and so hard to believe in myself.  last night i spent a long time looking at other peoples art and wondering why i'm not there yet.  is it time? is it self-confidence? is it commitment? all of the above? and then arises the question of where. . .where is 'there?' and do we ever get there, really? or are the mistakes along the way to this 'there' that is named the destination of our dreams, the very stones that sparkle under the moonlight later?
i can feel the quiet lineing of myself slowly seeping out towards manifestation, and yet what i see inside and what i can produce at the moment?-it doesn't come fast enough.  i want to be flying through the air right now, but i am stone-hopping on the river bank.
it seems from the time i wake to the moment i fall into unconsciousness at night- i hold on to the large stones of doubt- the ones that keep me just beneath the surface of the earth, struggling to climb out of my hole of worry- where upon emerging, i can put pencil to paper, and draw. 
last night at midnight, i managed to climb out.  i ended up somehow, miraculously, before another bird drawing.   i suppose because at the end of it all you have two choices: hold on to the stones that keep you down, or scramble up on top of them, with skinned knees and dirty palms. 

birds and earrings and finishing.

someone once said to me that tauruses are good at finishing things.  i must be very in touch with my aries blood (i'm cuspy) because i am definitely not a fan of finishing.  or even reproducing multiples once i HAVE finished something.  i would prefer to always start something new, interesting, and more challenging than the last. . .this trait, however, is not useful for selling things.  my goal lately has been to really fine tune a product so that i can make multiples and submit them to that store up the street, or that crafts fair, or even have a jewelry showing at my house. . .i am right now working on a series of birds.  i've given myself the goal of 10 birds that i'm satisfied with before i can move on to another project.  someone else once said to me "you have to make at least 5 of something before you even know what you're doing.". . .ahhh, finishing.  so here are my birds, and 2 sets of earring designs that i'm trying to complete. . . . 

lately

i've been a little busy.  open studios in october kind of wiped me out (as it always does) - i've hardly been able to keep up with the documenting the sewing fun i've been having and new paintings i've been making.  . and the pumpkin carving, and the hair change, and the beach trips, well, you get the point. . . .here's some pictures of my halloween festivities: