
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Priorities

Tuesday, August 30, 2011
First steps in the foundation

Sunday, August 28, 2011
The Receptive and The Creative





Saturday, August 27, 2011
Order and disorder

After two years, I took a big breath and reorganized my hanji. It's still crazy, since I have no proper paper storage. No flat files, nothing. But at least it has gone from one ENORMOUS roll plus a zillion smaller ones to several neatly stacked rolls (plus the zillion smaller ones, slightly better organized). I mailed things like art and cookies. I bought a frame for a brilliant pulp painting by Tom that now hangs over my bed. I'm so lucky to even own it! It's perfect. I hung more art and negotiated the sale of two pieces. I advised a paper colleague on traveling to Korea. I admin-ed a lot, made a couple of cords, rinsed some paper coated in kaki. Forgot about it until it flew off the balcony and I had to run downstairs to catch it before someone threw it away. Kept almost making work. The big thing will be to DO it. But I had to weave the rug first.
Friday, August 26, 2011
Enthusiasm in small steps

I was disappointed with how little work I had for him since our last shoot. I must remedy that. After the shoot, I braved the rain to meet Helena for a delicious lunch at the Asia Society before we walked over to the Frick, a first visit for both of us. Though it's not my kind of art, it was still fascinating, and I found an exquisite trompe l'oeil that included images of two tiny scraps of paper, each with a drawing of a head. Then we sat down for tea. It's so nice to see friends again, get real hugs, be out in the world, walk, get around w/o a car, and work. The best end to the journey for today: I came home to an acceptance letter for a residency in the southwest! I am enthused.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Finally, the finality begins

Sometimes you have to make journeys that are hard. There are all kinds of hard journeys. This one isn't as hard as most. Your greatgrandfather walked through a vast hunger. My grandfather watched his people vanish before his eyes. Your son will have a hard journey. My daughter is on a hard journey. But we make our journeys. We have no choice. We can't hide from who we are. That's no life at all. You know that. --Brian Doyle, Mink RiverThe immediacy of loss is searing, and I had purposely scheduled my final journey away from my final time with Ben via rail, hoping that the length but security of the tracks would give me time to process. More time to cry when you are on a train for half a day instead of on a plane for an hour. I had no room for airports or NYC or security checks. We got up so early that the moon and stars greeted us this morning for the long drive south, but the sun rose by the time he dropped me at the station. It took three trains to get home, and I shuffled between crying, reading a mediocre book, and staring out the window. The last one was good, since I was so mesmerized by the growths in the trees that I couldn't comprehend, saddened by the takeover of huge swaths of water by organisms that aren't very good for it, and soothed by the river, trees, sky, movement. I have already started to book myself to go out and work and socialize, starting tomorrow morning, but that is no guarantee that I won't cry while doing all of those things. This year is worst on my record since 2005, or 1998/9, or whenever. I know people live through relationships all the time, all stages of them, but I really dislike the ends of them.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Asked for, and done
A train ticket booked, another to get en route, a ride promised, and showered. I miss drawing, and maybe I'll do more of that once I start the next chapter of my life. In the meantime, I realized last night that I will stay home in NY for the fall, and be there the way I was before I left for Korea. Meaning that I will take a printmaking class in Manhattan! To begin in October. I haven't treated myself to such a thing since...grad school?
And, from yesterday's reading:
And, from yesterday's reading:
I'll tell you about Asin. Did I ever tell you about Asin? She is the wild woman of the woods. It's an old story of the People. My mom used to tell me about Asin. Asin couldn't bear being married or having children or having friends. She always wanted to run wild. She ran wild through the woods. If you saw her running you had to run to water as fast as you could and drink or her restlessness would come into you like a thirst that could never be quenched. She was happy and unhappy. She had wild long hair and she was very tall and she ran like the wind. When you saw dunegrass rippling in a line she was running through it. When the wind changed direction suddenly that was Asin. She was never satisfied or content and so she ran and ran and ran. She would grab men who were fishing alone and make love to them and throw them down on the ground and run away weeping. She would grab children who wandered too far alone in the woods but she would return them to the same spot after three days and run away again. She would listen to women talking by the fire or working in the village or gathering berries but if they invited her to join them she ran away. You could hear her crying sometimes when the sun went down. She wanted something but she never knew what it was so she had nothing. She was a free as anyone ever could be and so she was trapped. When I was young I wanted to be Asin. Many times I wanted to be Asin and just run free. Run away. Sometimes I still want to be Asin. So do you, Nora. I know. It's okay. It's alright. My sweet love. Poor Asin. Sometimes I think that to be Asin would be the saddest thing in the world. Poor thing. Poor Nora. It's alright. I'm here. Alright. --Brian Doyle, Mink River
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Grateful that I have traveled, though I am stranded right now

In a matter unrelated to me, but also pertaining to heartbreak: the dog of my hosts last summer in the Cleveland area, died last week. They had to put him down because of cancer. I was shocked to hear the news, very sad. I will see them next month and stay for a bit, and we will share our losses.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
The PANTS

Well, not really. Right now, I'm surrounded by uniforms, under a framed print of a very orange tabby cat, in an army base library. I'm still sorting out lots of things: paperwork, relationships, how long I will keep chewing this gum. In the meantime, I'm grateful for those who keep working and making beautiful things. Jean Betts was generous with her time and kindness, to me, a stranger. Since I can't afford to pay people for their expertise, I sent a mail present instead.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Real surprises

I engage in highly selective public sharing, even though only a handful of people read these words. I realize now that I've moved so far away from the openness and oversharing that I started with, out of fear. After seeing people's public words being used against them, I'm doing here the same thing I did with the lovely silver rental car I had for the last 2+ weeks: I imagine the worst-case scenario, and paralyze myself. [Though I'm proud to say that I returned the car last night safely after driving through almost five hours of rain and fog, the kind that makes you wish you could pull off the road but you don't because that would probably make it worse.]
I have been living this peregrine life for five years, but lately I have thrown aside all of the things that keep me sane and healthy. This year has been one of the worst. My irrational paranoia is that someone will come after me with a gun. Worse: someone would WANT to do that. I have been in an unhappy place for a while, but I think I'm crawling out of the worst of it. My friends and mentors have been extraordinarily kind and patient with me in the process, and remind me to try the same with myself.
Today, I'm starting over. And the same thing happens tomorrow.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
A perfect week




Friday, August 12, 2011
In lieu of hot air


Thursday, August 11, 2011
"paper paper paper"



Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Class in a sauna

Tuesday, August 09, 2011
Not quite caught up yet




Sunday, August 07, 2011
Sleeplessnessblindness

Thursday, August 04, 2011
They were right about the second wind




Wednesday, August 03, 2011
Some cooling





Tuesday, August 02, 2011
On my feet

I've met some great people, and already have connected with a cellist who knows a papermaker. And of course I know the papermaker! It's so weird being here, teaching in the art program, alongside an entire chamber music program. I see people with their name tags that indicate their instrument, and I wonder what happened. That used to be me! [Up there is one of 3 dorms alongside each other. It's not the one I sleep in, but I suspect they are identical.]
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