Tuesday, October 25, 2005

Winding down

I think it's hilarious that I told Elisabeth a couple weeks ago that I was sick of people in class having emotional reactions to everything and sick of how people can't function intellectually. Then tonight, I go off on a huge emotional tangent and lead the class astray for about an hour. Fantastic. It must be the part of me that wants people I leave behind not to forget me, so I raise hell for the whole time I'm around. OR, like Melissa says, it's that diva in me that is just winding up big time for a performance.

I think I need to water my flaming katy. I just remembered this morning, "oh, I should probably water the thing."

Melissa knocked some sense into me today about my performance, after Joy did the same last night and I had a mini-breakthrough, turned my computer back on, and wrote another chapter of a story I started my first year of grad school. It's finally all starting to make sense! Double princesses, birds, abandony mothers, loss...it shocked me when I re-read the last chapter I wrote last year. I was like, OMG!!! It's happening! The thing where your art knows better than you and is trying to show you something you need to know.

You know what that means...I'll be in the studio tomorrow, pulling big sheets of paper. I found that adding a little clay to it makes it easier to deal with. Must remember to do that.

I was looking tonight at the book Mary brought to class of Anselm Kiefer's books, and was thinking, I want to do that, I want to do that. That's probably a good sign. I re-read an interview in Art Journal tonight about teaching art, and why so many kids are getting MFAs nowadays, and how the system is failing us if we are only given two options: the marketplace or teaching. THANK YOU, Daniel Martinez, for being the lone voice out there saying that there really just might be another option, and that artists can exist in the world and not take those routes. And survive. Well, I guess Clif said that he's really interested in artists who go out and make a living for themselves. He's lucky, b/c he's such a great teacher and a great artist. So he gets to do it all.

Meanwhile, I'm wondering when I should schedule my next practice room time to get some piano time, and feel my violin callouses wearing away so I should practice that, too, and am staring at all the blank books on my bookshelf, and just wonder what will become of me. I remember asking myself that question all the time when Githa was dying: what will become of me? what will become of me? I've been thinking about that a lot more lately - her death, her life, our relationship.

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