I’ve Only Been Sketching

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If you have something to say and you don’t say it you get sick. This is what I’m thinking as I stay in bed all day today nursing a headache and exhaustion. I’ve been so busy being a mother, teacher, wife (and moonlighting as an artist) these past few weeks that I’m exhausted. My lovely eight year old never stops talking and requesting. My lovely thirteen year old never stops brooding and watching/judging me.  I continue to chug through the intense amount of daily tasks set before me.

I squeeze in a few Instagram shots of something I see, that I deem beautiful. I write blog posts in my mind, I ponder and puzzle out ideas about aesthetics, the creative process and the game of living here…all in my mind. I think I’ll write it down at 10:30 pm when I lie down with my laptop after the last child has been tucked in, yet the screen blurs before me. I do secretly relish that (how long?) moment when I think I’m thinking and I’m about to produce the next thought but everything is suspended in white and I hear nothing and everything stops. **** I jolt ‘awake’ realizing I have fallen asleep, and open my eyes just enough to close the laptop, set it carefully down on the floor, and try again to drift so perfectly. The second time however, is more of a forced entry into sleep b.c sadly morning will come so soon…when I am being called awake to help feed my children.

The great blog post I wrote several times last week, in my head – between conversations with the 8 and 13 yr old, has now vacated. I suppose it’s in there somewhere ready for another day…but really who cares! Aren’t most people just listening to themselves and those they have chosen to be their favorite geniuses, anyway?

 

I just so desperately want to make more work, experiment, experiment, experiment…spend hhhhooooooouuuuuuurrrrrrrsssssss doing it…with lots of time to reflect. Will I survive this path I’ve chosen, the one where I educate my own children? I dream of the perfect tutor who comes in a beam of light, who will sit with my kids 3 hours a day and do work/practice academics with them. I certainly don’t have the money to pay one, so it’ll have to be a miracle. As far as I can tell though, there are many, many, many who have a much more difficult and less-delicious life. So, please send them the miracles first. I did choose this after all.

This is the moment in the progression of things when I feel that all my work previous to this moment has just been me sketching—leading me to this spot of massive change. A new way of working. I’m gathering my energy and trying very hard to get ducks-in-a-row so that I can take the time needed each week. The ducks are revolting! They sense the change, I suppose?

It’s a peculiar thing hindsight is, and the fictional passage of time. Most of us who engage in the creative process experience the uncomfortable sensation of nakedness—our process on display. We’re asked to claim our work confidently whilst knowing we aren’t as good as we want to be yet. We’re asked to make statements and wrap-up our experiments in a neat package so that they become official. So, as gracefully as I can, I will proclaim: I’VE ONLY BEEN SKETCHING.

PS. Let that be the last complaint and apology for awhile!

PPS. Society’s delight with branding, and the robotic-static ‘feeds’ of the same content over and over again in social media has really been bothering me lately too. I just can’t keep up with that. I’m way too messy, I guess.

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