Visceral making was my first move out of silence, a move made at a time when I was unsure how to speak into or even grasp my own lived experience, when my body had a more cogent language than my mind.
That has now been partially purged in the pursuit of a clarity in purpose and voice. So I continue the move out of silence, but it will never stray too far from the language of the visceral.
Clearly (ha), there will be no retrospective based on the 14.7 tons of work and residue taken to the dump and a large part of the remainder burned.
Tear wipe. Palm smack to forehead. Dang. Seriously, seven loads, 14.7 tons. Since I harvest from the waste stream, I do not feel overly guilt returning it. But dang if it didn’t hurt to dispose of it all.
Ha. Even purged seven years worth of my steel tip work books.
A tad of the purged