Artists have so many things that get in the way of being able to create: Reality for one. Most of us have to have another job to pay the bills, and if it’s a decent job, it takes up more hours than those for which you get paid. And if it’s a job like mine, it takes up precious mental space as well, as we worry about kids and lessons and new curriculum and all that shite. And then on top of that, if you have a family and you’re the primary caregiver (aka, usually the mom, however sexist that is, it is reality in many families even now), then those things are in your head all the time, so when it’s an hour past when the girlchild was supposed to be home and she’s not answered her phone and you’re not entirely sure where she is, so you get the dad involved and then that turns into a contract for behavior, because honestly, that’s it, you’re done, and yes, dammit, you DO realize she is 5 months away from adulthood, but if she has any chance of surviving until then without one of her parents going nuts because she is yet again late with no communication, then there need to be clear expectations and consequences. And finally, both parents are on the same page and there is a plan. On top of that, if you are dealing with confusing tax situations that aren’t even yours (more kid stuff) and financial aid forms and the possibility of a kid going to college in Paris…yes, that’s FRANCE…for her freshman year (let’s not even talk about expense on that one, but YES, it would be an amazing experience, but when asked where do I draw the line financially? What? The line is drawn. The money stops here. WTF?).
I can’t explain…or maybe I can…why the art brain runs and hides with all that shit facing it. I can see it might think there is no space for it in all that.
It really isn’t surprising after all that AND a uterine biopsy yesterday (whoo! no one told me how fun that would be) that I was almost incapable of getting any art done until almost 10 PM. Which sucked. I did grade papers, because I’m trying to be good. I also cleaned the kitchen because I’m trying to be good. It’s possible that trying to be good is a mistake.
I’ve been accused of being selfish with my time, of not doing what the kids want me to do at the drop of a hat because of my art. And that wasn’t the case. Because it wouldn’t matter if I was spending that time at the gym, making art, or getting my nails done (not happening), I would still need some time to myself, away from the caregiver position that I exist in most of my days. Even when kids go off to college, my job is as a caregiver in many ways.
So yeah. My brain was fucked with yesterday. And today I’m feeling kind of overwhelmed and sad and tired and headachy and not happy about my existence and/or the pile of crap that still needs doing. So whatever. Another doctor’s appointment today, this one without cutting and blood. Hopefully.
But this is what I got done in two hours last night…I started with the trunk and then a bunch of tiny apples and their stems…
I had to cut all the stems out and I couldn’t quite read the tiny little numbers on them, but I think it worked out OK.
Then there were the leaves and all the stems that went with them…
Oh holy moley, that was worse. The stems are on that brown piece. There are enough of them for all those leaves. Actually, I was missing three leaves at the end. I found one of them, but two are still incommunicado.
Not that you can tell. Well, the apple on the ground is kinda obvious…
I’ll keep going through boxes and see if it appears. I have the stem! I just need the damn leaf.
I ironed the heron’s head in with the hand that came with it…
That’s the hardest part…getting everything to fit together with such tiny pieces and fussiness going on. But it did. At that point, though, I had this huge piece I was working on, and I needed more of the applique pressing sheet above, so I pulled the whole bottom section off and folded it up into a box…
And I thought about just continuing with the ironing, even though it was after midnight at that point, but my brain was roiling with messy emotional crap and it needed more of the calm peaceful fitting of pieces into the shapes they are supposed to fill, everything has a home and a place and it’s all so perfect (except when it doesn’t fit, and then that’s just as frustrating as real life and you still want to walk away from it). Ah fuck.
Yeah. I went to bed. To toss and turn.
Today I’ll continue above that with the arms and the torso. When they’re done, I can iron the bottom on. Or I can wait until I’m ironing the whole thing together. I don’t have to decide that right now.
As far as today is concerned…fuck all of yesterday’s shit. Not all of it is fixable or even my job to fix. I’ll have to deal with some of it, of course. And I’m tired, because I let all the drama into my head at bedtime and it followed me into my dreams. So maybe I should sit and draw today, because some of that could spill over into the horror I want in the drawing. That would be an acceptable place for it to live…rather than in my head. Which is where it’s sitting right now.
And my art brain is sitting over THERE sulking, arms crossed, cranky face, because I didn’t let it play as much as it wanted yesterday. I can’t explain to it that the other stuff has weight too…that it has a place too. That I have to deal with all of it. Or I can just be a hermit and once the kids move out, I can stop talking to everyone and just hide here at home. It’s definitely an option. Artists can be hermits. It’s allowed. I just suck at it.
More ironing today I think. And maybe some loud music. Or something distracting. Because it’s supposed to be vacation. And the art brain does deserve some time away from all the other crap. So do I.
Kathy Nida 