…somedays that is as good as it gets. At moments like these I am daunted by the physical exertion that, is evident, will be required. I fidget about in preparation. Then get a bit overwhelmed and diverted…a walk to get a snack, a return trip to the house to get my keys to move my truck so i don’t have to carry the tubes so far, then a blog and a book. Another diet coke. And again have a moment of grief. I just feel physically and emotionally spent. I know. I know. There is only one person who is responsible for choosing such a medium and feels compelled to work at such scales. It does make me question the why. Where does this compulsion or need come from to work this way? Almost every artist I know has certain compulsions, or rules they hold to in terms of their medium, process, or concepts. Even teachers have a compulsion (or preference) for their medium (p-k, elementary, junior or senior high, college, or adult) and method (subject)…as do doctors, lawyers and sales men. So this artist compulsion is not out of the ordinary, really, it just manifests quite differently than other jobs.
But I divert from the topic of why do I work at such a scale with such dang weighty materials. Why do I call it a compulsion? I suppose i classify it as compulsion because I do not fully know or understand the internal place from which it comes and because it requires a serious degree of physical umph that often results in real aches and pains.
Initially I thought I understood the source of my work, but I think that was a combination of denial and arrogance in thinking I actually comprehend the complexities of my life and the way it connected to others. It is obvious that this is not so.
But I do know that I don’t want to return to Houston. I have discovered that since I have been here. I don’t want my ruby red slippers (they don’t work anyway). I just want my steel tip boots bearing themselves across the soft loam of the forest floor and clunking across an artist made peer. Making, writing, walking, basking, healing in this solitude.
Dead battery. Time passes. Lunch acquired. Consumed. Work accomplished. Blog post posted. Progress visible. Direction good. Maintain!
Phone left indoors ti charge with the bird. Nesting in my studio. Guess I should not hVe left the door open so many days in a row.
Location:Hopyard Rd,East Haddam,United States