Archives for category: writing

zoe-3My friend, the writer and artist, Kevin Eib remarked that since he knows Zoe well enough, he recognizes this expression.  He called it “Mom, this is sooooo boring”.  Those of you who know Zoe probably know that look.  Poor kid.  I empathize with the state that begets the expression.  Boredom is a fine enemy; powerful, debilitating, uninspiring.  I can think of now worse.  We discussed this idea, more specifically the French feeling of ennui, which is a special kind of existential boredom.  We were discussing Baudelaire’s Flowers of Evil, where boredom comes up as the “abortive birth” of the relationship between mankind and the devil.  I have grown to be quite fond of Baudelaire–once a person gets past the shock and revulsion of his images, once a reader sees past the vehicle and gets at the trope, there is a shining mystical heart to his work that I love dearly.  His poem “Carcass” is one of my favorites.  I was so excited to find that many of my students could see what lay beneath his disturbing imagery…the fleeting dissolution of self into a larger whole alongside the terror of a more permanent dissolution (death).  If I can get even 1 student to buy into the idea that literature and poetry are fundamentally important to our existence, then I’ve (obviously) done my job.  An important part of our discussion revolved around why Baudelaire found Boredom to be such a devilish problem… one or two students managed to identify the central problem: the (false) belief that one is powerless, an ambivalence that allows, even fosters, the growth of evil.  Truly, what worse feeling is there than to think that what one does doesn’t matter at all.  That all action ends in irrelavance.  Pretty hard to swallow if you ask me.

Goethe had some things to say about action:

“Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back– Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth that ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamed would have come his way. Whatever you can do, or dream you can do, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it. Begin it now.

Lovely, no?

As far as the portrait goes, I still see some problems with the left eye, specifically the orbital indentation alongside the bridge of the nose needs more shading, and something is still off in the forehead (what?).  Also,I’m trying to  understand hair (shape, reflections, shading, curvature) but clearly still have much to learn.  The black and white medium (charcoal) is much easier to deal with…

Oh.  Here’s something interesting.  It turns out that the woman on whom the red-coated figure is based actually has a “thing” for mushrooms.  Funny, because I just couldn’t figure out why I kept seeing them.  It just didn’t make any obvious sense to me… I have no real connection to the little fungi, but Miss Bloom does.   Weird.  I suppose I must have known that somehow deep deep deep in my brain.  I’m glad I trusted my intuition and added them.  Seriously, no less than 4 times I “saw” the mushrooms before I finally said “fine” and added them even though it made no sense to me.  Cool.

Advertisements

memories-of-a-southern-girlhood2I’m back to work.  I’m at a place right now where I need to paint what I want to paint…  There are times when I just need to do exactly what inspires me while ignoring outward concerns.  Lately, most of my inspiration is coming from female compadres.  Specifically, I’ve been thinking alot about three sisters (me and my sisters and the 3 Bloom girls).  Our culture tends to value romantic relationships over others, which makes sense since the romanitc is the center out of which families arise.  But the relationshps that form the periphery of romantic relationships, specifically childhood friendships that last well into adulthood, are just as important.  Why do we create such a rigid hierarchy with male-female relationships at the top?  Internally I’m beginning to sense a construct that is more “weblike,” a shape that includes the people in my extended family and friendships that are quite obviously necessary to my spiritual wellbeing.  I suppose this web has always been there, but I can see that I’ve bent my awareness to fit a shape that is contrary to this web.  The “nuclear” of my nuclear family is not comprised of an isolated atom…especially now that my family life is changing shape so dramatically.  A friend keeps reminding me to keep my heart open to all that the universe has to offer, and as I do that I find that my life is incredibly full and that I’ve been blessed with so much.  And I don’t say that in a way that excludes my previous life, but in a way that includes it while opening my life and home to a wider, larger family that has always been there.

Not only that, but I’m grateful to still have my sense of humor.  What’s funnier than putting on those big girl panties and singing along (badly, I might add) while the stars come out and you have the kind of friends who let you sing as loud as you want and give you hell for being the Nancy that you are?

And the mushrooms are not a drug reference, but I kept seeing them again and again, so I put them in there.  I’ll let you know if I figure out what they’re about.

1.  Read a superb short story by Jonathan Lethem, “The King of Sentences” in 2008 Best American Short Stories.  Lethem is a King of Sentences himself, and I think the story is partially about the tyranny created by success…you make a few pieces of good art and then all of a sudden newer, less evolved experiments are subjected to the humiliation of comparison.  Experience and novelty go head to head and only the naive idealism of youth can save one from annihilation.

2.  Drawings and paintings grind to a halt once again.  Methinks it is the result a dissolved network…but Jill is coming soon and we will talk shop and I will work again.

3.  White animals continue to cross my path while driving–portentious, omenous, auspicious.  Two stark white ptarmigan flew in front of my car, so close I had to slam on my brakes.  The odd thing was that they were sitting in the middle of a busy (for Fairbanks anyways) highway.  (edit: They were in the wrong place and were lucky they got out of the way before I squashed them with my Jetta.  How’s that for interpretation?)