Thursday, June 23, 2011
I was going to post about why I haven't been posting very often (compared to the regularity of last month's entries) but that seems unnecessary. When I hadn't written in my journal for a long time I would self-consciously start off by writing about why I thought I hadn't been writing, and feel like I'd never be able to catch up with myself. And that was only for me. There's been too much going on in my head these days and I lose track of writing, internet, telephone. I spent half an hour staring at a butterfly. I know that upon my return I'll need to attend to things while continuing to process my experiences (from last month too), even though I'm not certain where I'll even be spending my time. I'm uneasy that I won't have a conducive, steady place to work anymore. I admit that with only a week left, I've got mixed feelings and wish I could continue living like this. The challenge will be to keep generating the momentum and energy that I've found. It's not even that I am making prodigious amounts of work, although I feel good about what I've done. It's that I get to think about it more steadily; bigger (and more unsettling) concerns occupy my thoughts beyond the one or two pieces before me. I tend to get reflective anyway so it's hardly surprising that I should feel both grounded and restless, emotionally and creatively, at the same time. This was what I wanted-- to stir up the pot, toss in fresh ingredients, close the cookbook and start improvising downright. (Been doing a lot of cooking/baking with & for everybody.) I've gotten really used to having a bunch of cool people around to talk with and listen to. This can distract me, but I know I need and welcome the interaction. I absorb and redirect the energy inward while sharing my own, and feel stronger for it.
I just painted the inside of the birdhouse. I was the first to perch here and feel honored to be able to leave my mark as a contribution to the farm. Part of it is inspired by a bird mural I did last year, but it (and the other elements) felt right for the space, and I was able to use paint I found around. Today I'm finishing a small self-image in oil using a photo my friend took. Both aspects outside my realm of comfort, which is why I need to do it even as it evokes some strange feelings. I used to say that the objects and places I paint express something about myself too. There's still plenty of truth to this but it's starting to feel vaguely disingenuous, as if something inside is trying to emerge.