Recent work inspired by a line in a poem by poet Alyssa Yankwitt, "This Is How We Spill Our Grief". The two smaller recent works come from this line. Her words stuck in my head wandering around for weeks after I read her poem. It took a little time to know where I would begin or what surface?
The two piece's were created in July, 2014, one on artist board and the other on mylar. Hope you enjoy them ! Here are some studio shots.
|This Is How We Spill Our Grief, 2014, July, oil, pigments, gouache, pencil on mylar roughly 21" x 30"|
|This Is How We Spill Our Grief, I, 2014, July, oil, pigments, guoache, china marker, on raw wood artist board, 8" x *"|
The winter in New York City was long, dark and fraught with many storms. Cold and rainy as winds whipped through windows, and all manor of cracks and crevasses it could manage. I've been very ill since last summer which has led me to slow down my pace and focus on my health and recovery. Thankfully I'm a tough broad as my father would say and will recover.
In the east village studio which I fondly refer to as "the think tank", my mind was dulled by the meds. It was hard to think clearly and put things together. A line, a very simple line from one side of the surface to another was a feat. It became impossible to work as my head simply couldn't wrap itself around exploring or defining any ideas possibilities. So I waited ... and waited...
every day growing frustrated
waiting for my body and mind to heal to recover, to recognize the image in the mirror.
to recognize the person who spoke from this body that was mine I no longer recognize. I search for
pictures to remember what I looked like, where my thoughts were going.
searching for me, searching for something recognizable.
This was the hardest part, the body failed me, but my mind failed me too. The horror indeed.
Now almost a year later, I see myself again. There you are, I thought staring in the mirror. It's been so long I've missed you !
The new work is coming very fast as my mind returns to it's frantic wonderful active self again. Puzzles, fireworks, the joy ! I've several series I'm working on at the moment in a variety of mediums. From site specific installations to drawings, mixed media and video incorporating my note and code poems simultaneously. Collecting words, sounds, colors, motion, textures, all delicately woven quietly as I slept. A line in a poem by my dear friend poet Alyssa Yankwitt has inspired several works on mylar and wood panel artists board. "This is how we spill our grief". It's subtlety, the act of "spilling" something for me is a languid motion, which could be quick or slow. It's how we perceive the passing of time, how we understand time in relation to all things in the bigger picture of life.
Some images will be posted shortly as I get back in the swing of things and my computer gets up and running again. Enjoy your day where ever you wander !