My unconscious brain is giving me not terribly subtle hints.
You know that I’ve been wayfaring deep in Sad Valley this month – so many damned anniversaries. There are the happy ones – The Amazing Bob’s birthday and our anniversary. And the heavy ones – the heart attacks, prostate miseries, chemo, the chemo triggered heart attack during the travel ban blizzard odyssey. Yes, TAB and I really liked to pack as much as possible into each winter, especially January.
Now, I totes understand that, in order to rise outta this swamp of anguish, I’ve got to float in it – experience the loss and horror show grief.
Got it but could this be just a weensy bit less overwhelmingly brutal? Please? Bitte? Prego? I’m beggin’ ya!
With the goal of achieving more bearable days I’ve gone ahead and begun painting over an old, large canvas of mine. It was one that never thrilled me so, instead of peeling it off the stretchers and expensively, exhaustingly, stretching new, fresh, virgin cotton duck, I’m employing the time honored tradition of just painting the fuck over it.
|a new beginning|
Also too, now that I’ve more room in the basement, it’s time to set up my damn wheel, a wedging table and a hand building surface again. My sleeping self has been nagging me, don'cha know.
And suddenly you know: It's time to start something new and trust the magic of beginnings.
~ Meister Eckhart
Beginnings are sudden, but also insidious. They creep up on you sideways, they keep to the shadows, they lurk unrecognized. Then, later, they spring.
~ Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin
There hasn't been any art yet. Art is just beginning.
~ Constantin Brancusi