This painting is small. Reminds me of a strange music note, but I have no title idea so ‘strange music note’ may just stick.
Below is a poem/song I wrote touching on a personal matter I rarely acknowledge that has a place in old, very deep fears. This in particular is about memories in childhood and how I thought my art was and is perceived by my mother and other close relations. How my only worth seemed to come from colors I put to paper. Nothing much else ever really being noticed.
Another picture, for you.
Such a pretty picture,
I knew you would say.
Hasn’t it always been this way?
By these simple painted shades
There is still your smile I can save.
And it’s okay with me
If the heavy lines of drawn eyes are
The only ones to make you see my own
With their pain.
You will understand this all someday.
In your own time, in your own way.
When I leave, you will know
I tried my best.
And the pictures I leave behind
Will save you, dear mother
And the devastating news I got this week: my therapist of nearly 5 years will be retiring in April. Great news for him and I tried my best to smile and said my congratulations, but really I felt an awful hurt swell within. He told me this news right before I was set to hand over a small gift. A cd of a few songs linked back to discussions in my therapy sessions over the years, and one new song dedicated specifically to him about my gratitude. So not only was I sinking fast over the fact I’ll be out on my own again and have to start with someone else, I felt foolish and ashamed I did not see it coming sooner. The past two days have been spent with teary eyes and a lifeless feeling inside.
The only thing I’m appreciative about knowing what I know now is that I will be able to say goodbye…He’s helped me further along than anyone else and I wouldn’t change anything at all if it were my choice. I will miss very having such a safe person and place to turn to.
I Confront Day – This was drawn more than a year ago, and finally completed less than a month back. I thought it fit well to pair with a line from this poem I wrote and made a song of:
With heavy heart
I confront day.
Alone to find the way,
I have lost my words. I have lost all thought.
I feel no worth. I feel so caught between a
Past of losses and a future that will not forgive.
It has been long I’ve waited.
The need within turns to hatred.
Who I’ve become could not be more wrong.
The far beyond has heard my call.
To final breath I give my all.
With heavy heart
I take the fall.
My eighth collection of originals is finished and added to the page where the rest are. I’m sending a handful of people I have addresses to a cd of these recent pieces along with lyrics. For too long my songs have felt like having a stash of personal paintings that have never been shown- art never even given the opportunity to be seen (in this case, heard). So that’s all I’m doing. Even if no one takes a serious listen to anything or it’s instantly trashed, it settles my mind enough to know it’s out there and no longer a secret I only know of. I don’t continue singing with an expectation that it will add more to my life than it already has, and the same goes with painting. But to work on something with such focus, time and of personal significance, keeping it all to myself forever would never do. Whether or not it makes sense, for me doing that would feel wrong. I hide enough on a day to day basis. I don’t need to that with my art and I never want to.
Anyway, I think I will follow through with the choir for our Spring concert if I’m confident I’ll know the music in time. And work is…bearable. Sad to say I’m nearing just 7 months in February and it’s the longest I’ve ever worked full time…I am showing up everyday, on time and I make no excuses. This is the best I can do. Wherever it leads me to, there will be no guilt.
This is one of few paintings I had to go back and fix/add to. Free hand, abstract things like this can get even messier if I am not focused or free enough in mind to not be bothered by having no image planned. And I certainly didn’t when I started it. With the title, the finished version reminds me of the hand bells sound included in the November concert I had with my choir. I don’t know of the rules about depicting what a sound looks like or if it even makes sense, but whatever. I have no award to win.
I have completed the eighth music collection I’ve spent time recording over the last three/four months. I sent out the first copy today to a friend along with a card for his birthday. I told him I know home recordings aren’t much of a gift, but that it was important for him to have these recent works, even if they go unheard. Others will be bothered with a copy sent in the mail, too. I just have to get my personal letters written out to each first.
And from here, I don’t know. I had another near crisis last week and hate myself for not scheduling a session before leaving my previous one. I don’t know exactly why going to therapy helps me, but it does. I rarely leave there feeling like a lost cause, and if I am to break these awful patterns that bury me deeper, the last things I need to do is separate myself from the process longer than necessary. I have my own money now and it’s time I stop feeling guilty for putting my own needs as a priority.
An acrylic piece from weeks ago when I had time for this love…
Again it’s becoming painfully obvious I am one of billions who cannot do what they love and make a living by it. That is likely a blessing not many will have a chance to ever know. The rest of us are left looking at what we have–maybe it’s good, but not enough to not be outdone by another someone.
Although for me, it’s okay if nothing I create is worth enough to keep a roof over my head. It keeps air in my lungs and my blood right where it should be in trying to stay alive for it. So, I’ll have to settle with the sorrow that 40+ hours a week at a deadening job leaves me with so little time or energy to do this actual work I love. The time I do have will just have to count for something. When that dwindles away, I just hope to be taken soon after.
Choir rehearsal has restarted. I am ashamed at how overwhelmed the first evening back left me. Shaken and almost scared away all together into taking leave for the rest of this busy season. Still undecided with that and here comes another Monday rehearsal on the way…