This plant would like to grow
And yet be embryo;
Increase, and yet escape
The doom of taking shape….
Hey friends, how are you? I’m feeling quiet, again, but there’s something about my blog that still pulls at me. I changed things up a week or so ago and really like the new layout: it’s peppy. But my quietness is keeping me from sharing much here in public. There’s a ton going on within my four walls–metaphorically and physically–but I can’t seem to bridge the gap between that and this. I think the bottom line is that I don’t want to be vulnerable right now. That’s probably it. I am working on some major issues and feel a lot of hope… as well as a good amount of despair, at times, about what I perceive to be my fundamental flaws… but revelation is 90% of the cure, so once I see what the problem is, I have a lot more power to change it. A lot more power, but not instant, ultimate power. There are some things that require a mighty working out, and lots and lots of time.
So here are a couple little things.
I discovered chocolate wine a few weeks ago–actually, right around Valentine’s. Scott and I were at the grocery store, pushing the cart around from this aisle to that, stocking up on food items, when we found an entire display of it left over from the holiday. I’m not a huge red wine drinker; I prefer sweet desserty drinks; but the combination of red wine and chocolate seemed pretty innovative and intriguing so I bought a bottle. Hello, YUM. Scott won’t even try it, as his interest lies primarily with beer, but that’s fine because, more for me! I have taken to drinking a glass every night. Growing up in a teetotaler family, even as liberal as I’ve become over the years, it’s been hard to avoid the thought that with this nightly glass I’m skirting dangerously close to alcoholism, one sweaty hand wrapped around a bottle-shaped brown paper bag and two feet in the gutter. Actually, it’s closer to half a glass, and it’s taken me two weeks to go through as many bottles, so I probably won’t be needing the address to the nearest AA meeting any time soon. I still feel a little squidgy about it, but I’m getting used to the idea.
After a longish dry patch, last week I was hit by a sudden wave of inspiration and have been working diligently on my papier-mache sculptures ever since. I have two nearly ready for the pulp/plaster stage, which I’ll start tomorrow. They’ll be ready for painting by the weekend, though I may not be able to get to them until next week. I’m mulling over ideas for my next project, which probably won’t be a sculpture but a large painting for over the couch. I’m thinking I’ll implement papier-mache into it, however, so it will be a mixed media piece, always immensely fun to do. I’ve discovered, with the sculptures, that my favorite part is creating the facial features, which I do with torn cotton balls and lots and lots of small strips of masking tape. I still love my buddha, but if I were making him over again I would do so many things differently. That’s the beauty of practicing, isn’t it? You only get better as you go (if you’re not repeating mistakes). I can see definite improvement as I’ve progressed, and that’s a huge encouragement to keep creating.
Because the spare oom is occupied, I rearranged the dining room to serve as a studio. I absolutely love it and may even keep it like that once Torie moves out. I like to have the television on as I work; it gives me something to focus on so that my subconscious has freedom to run around and play. I always use this example, so forgive me if I’m repeating myself, but Stephen King listens to rock music as he writes, for the same reason….it disengages your brain so that you (your ego you) aren’t working so hard, so that the story can rise up without effort through your subconscious and reveal itself unencumbered. Since sculpting is also telling a story, the same principle applies. I put a small television in the corner of my new studio and am saving up to buy a unit that plays Netflix, since I can’t abide broadcast TV and all its commercials. In the meantime, I’m still doing the majority of my work in the living room, and that’s okay too, if a little awkward and messy. I like a tidy house so it will be nice to sequester everything away into one room eventually and do all my work there.
Maybe today, but more likely tomorrow, I’ll head to the folks’ and spend some time with my mom, who had another surgery yesterday. She’ll be coming home from the hospital this afternoon. The poor love has really been through the ringer, I’m telling you, but has maintained her typical optimistic/realistic attitude and is a great example to all of us. (Whenever my dad twits her for being a pessimist, she counters with “I’m an optimistic realist!,” and she really is. :) One of the sculptures I’m working on is for her–a black madonna, inspired from Sue Monk Kidd’s The Secret Life of Bees. She’s been so much fun to make; I love her sweet face as she gazes toward heaven. And now I think I’ll grab some breakfast and get to work. I hope you all have a wonderful day! Love. xo