A line is better out than in

I had a lovely birthday last Saturday and so I decided to continue the fun and take the past week off. As much as an artist takes a week off. It was more a timeout from walking and running. Perhaps taking off from the outside world just a bit. I still took a few gentle walks and did a bit of yoga. I attended an art collective meeting and had in-depth and meaningful conversations with other artists in my circle. I applied for a volunteer position, started a bit of art, posted some art to a buyer, promoted my work across social media, bought a bit of art, cheered some artists on, signed a petition for Universal Basic Income, and here I am writing my blog. 

This week I also cried and was angry over the fear and danger women face in the world. I will hold vigil tomorrow for women everywhere.

 I'd like to run through the forest and throw rocks. I'd like to smash and kick the air. 

I'd like to scream from my guts until it shakes the trees.

Buy this print

A line is better out than in...

That's all I have for you this week. Thanks as always to my patrons and supporters.

Take good care out there.

Finding my anchor

Revisiting a group of large paintings that I started in January. There are five of them, the beginnings of a series I left abandoned for the past 3 months. I am drawn to this one and think I will use it as the anchor for the series.

I am collecting information. I am researching and gathering raw materials in the form of cultural excavation. I am in the building phase, or really the rebuilding phase.

I am re-learning. I am reading, I am listening and I am watching.

I am reframing and looking back to move forward. Taking strength and power from those who have come before and finding support through their words and creations.

More on that later.

In the studio on Tuesday, I talked about a few milestones. My Tuesday Studio Video Visit turned two last month! This blog turned twelve and my "Books" series will be twenty at the end of this month. If you don't follow my art page on Facebook you can catch it again here. I am in the process of transferring my Tuesday Studio Video Visits to YouTube so that more people can access them and for a future project I have planned.

Okay back to later...

I am purposely filling my head with the ideas and cultural offerings of women. My head has already been filled by the ideas and work of men by default. I know what you are thinking, don't make me say some of my best friends are men...(they are). Of course, my head has been filled with many amazing offerings created by men and will continue to be, but at the same time, many of these offerings don't always reflect me and my life and nor perhaps should they. Their gaze is searching from and creating through a system that has been made for them. Hand built by them, for them, and how wonderful and empowering that must be, but perhaps also crippling at times. See how I have to keep softening everything I write as to not offend. I am so tired of doing that but I feel I must keep doing it to stay safe in this hand-built world, not of my design.

In art school, I was praised for painting like a man. I proudly took the "compliment" as I understood that it meant my work was strong, bold and good and not weak or easy. Sorry, sisters. I was deeply assimilated into the patriarchy to get along without even knowing.

As a teen, I liked to think I was "one of the guys" (not like the "other" girls). I could drink and smoke with the boys, sometimes teetering on the edge of dangerous explorations. I could curse a blue streak and smash it up with the rest of them. I would be upfront in the crush of the pit at gigs or right in front of the speakers (cause I thought I was tough and could take it), I would listen to the music you liked and I'd like it too (of course). When I saw Black Flag at the age of 14, I purposely picked out the Pettibon designed T-shirt that said "I've been good too long" and proudly wore it to Jr. High the next day. I never felt like I was a "good" girl/woman. In my youth, I was boy crazy as I looked to them for approval, adoration, and information. I wanted what they had; that strength, charisma, power, and mostly that freedom. What appeared on the surface, as a lack of fear.

I went through periods of my life where I messed up my female friendships to run after or just run with the boys. Or I just didn't give the girls and women in my life enough time or attention. Again, sorry sisters. Thankfully, as I grew up, I came to my senses and have many long-lasting, wonderful and true friendships with women all over the world. These women have been my teachers, mentors, confidants and fellow hell-raisers. These women have strength, charisma, power, and freedom too. Many of them had to learn to live with and triumph over their fears and rise above every day in this world that wasn't built for or by them. These women are revolutionaries, my heroines, and luckily my cohorts.

What does all of this have to do with my work? Every fucking thing.

We can't be what we can't see. Right now I am seeing women being brutally raw and honest. I am seeing women create masterpieces of art and literature, I am seeing the female gaze in the films they make, the roles they take and the songs they sing. I see the truth of my being reflected back. What the hell is a "good" woman anyway and why would I ever want to be one?

Until next week, keep fighting. 

I tally, check off, and list.

I often don't think I work hard enough. I tally, check off, and list.

My monkey mind rages even with daily yoga and meditation. Am I working? Yes. Am I working hard enough? Sometimes yes and sometimes no. Are you working when the work doesn't earn money? Yes, sometimes I am in action and I think action counts as work. Money is separate. Was I ever expected to make money at this? Yes and no.

Do I earn my keep? Yes. Do I earn my place in society? Yes. Do I have to cook and clean to earn my place? No. Do I have to put on lipstick to earn my place? No. Do I have to wait in line? I have been waiting politely for what seems like forever so maybe that is on me. Do I have to wait for permission? I do this too often. Do I have to follow the rules? I hope not but I do. Do I have to censor myself? No, but I do. Do I have to watch as man after man and after man's paintings get featured on abstract painting pages? Seems like it.

With the perfect storm raging in the background of my life I took to the beach for some space.



It's on me to make this work. It's on me to make peace with my calling. I take responsibility for my choices and I am not giving up. I am going to raise my voice a little louder and show up a little bolder for myself. Let's see what happens...

Until next week, I am grateful for you and your work. I see you.
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