Never Ever

Lisbeth has bounced back once again, amazing woman/child.I took a video of Lisbeth dancing in my studio yesterday. After she left, I viewed it, and as I watched it this song happened to be playing on my CD player. It seemed to fit perfectly, so I went home and made it the soundtrack. I had no idea what the words meant, or at least I thought I didn't know. I did take a few years of French when I was in Jr. High and High School. Maybe it stayed with me more than I realize, because after I made this video I looked up the translation to the song...




Am I ever fragile? Do I really have a choice?
Do I ever gently grumble, maybe? Was I thinking of death?
To eventually stop... being so strong
Can I even cry?
No never, never ever
Look, am I trembling?
No never, I'd rather die
Than let life kill me
No never, ever, never ever...


Julien Bense

Guardians

In a sad stroke of synchronicity yesterday, my phone rang while I was working on these pieces in my studio. It was Lisbeth's one-on-one helper calling to tell me that Lisbeth had just had another bad fall during a seizure. I quickly yanked off my painting apron and told them I'd meet them at the emergency room. Evidently Lis had one of her "no warning" grand mal seizures where she goes down like a felled tree. These are the worst - no bending at the knees, no initial crying out, just BOOM. Straight down. She and her helper were in the kitchen about to make some banana bread, when Lis crashed into the refrigerator door, face first.

She's banged up but OK. Breaks my heart what she endures.

After getting Lisbeth back home and comfortable, I headed back to my studio and worked on these paintings even more prayerfully.

Light from Darkness

Goya

Maya Bloch

Kathe Kollwitz

Guardians and angels are on my mind of late, and what it means to be a guardian. I'm one of my daughter Lisbeth's legal guardians, and she has many other sorts of guardians, celestial and terrestial. So do I. How do they show up? What do they look like? These are the thoughts I'm taking with me to the studio today...

A Lisbeth Series

This is the start of a new series of drawings of and about my daughter Lisbeth. I've wanted to do this series for a very long time, and I finally feel emotionally ready. Ever since I took this photo of Lisbeth in the ER last fall I have felt compelled to draw it. I've also been wanting to try working with acrylics and pastels on primed canvas instead of paper, so this week I bought some raw canvas and tacked it to the new homosote panels lining one wall of my studio, and gessoed it. I drew the image in first with charcoal, then worked into the drawing with acrylics and pastels, back and forth, back and forth. It's a new surface, with new challenges: I'm just getting used to it, and I'm enjoying it so far. I plan to work the hummingbirds into the piece this afternoon, either on this drawing of Lisbeth, or on smaller separate canvases that will circle this piece, like little angels...

Mondays with Lisbeth

My daughter Lisbeth will be joining me in my studio on Monday mornings to "do art." Today she was not in the mood to make art, but wanted me to draw her. She sat for about half an hour. I have made several portraits of Lisbeth over the years. It's an intense experience, because she is so intense, and our bond and joint history is so intense. In a thirty minute period, Lisbeth can rapidly vacillate between giddiness, anxiety, anger, sadness...it's all there.

Under Cover

Self in Kitchen, 1990, pastel and pencil on Rives BFK, 22" x 30," private collection.I was approached recently by a poet who is having her first book of poems published, and has asked to use my drawing Self in Kitchen for her book cover. I won't reveal the poet or the book title just yet, but just let me say that this a powerful and beautiful collection of poetry, having to do primarily with the complex mother/daughter relationship. I am excited and honored that my self portrait will be gracing the cover of this new book, which will be available in 2012.

Tapping In

On Friday, I unloaded my artwork from my car to bring into the house and put in my flat file, which is set up in my new home studio space. In addition to all my portraits, figure studies, and prints, I had the bulky pieces to my Altared Self installation to unload. I had fantasized about burning this piece for some time - it was taking up alot of space, and I'd exhibited it twice altready (here, and here...), so I wasn't even careful taking it from the car, and tossed pieces of it onto a snow bank while I pulled my other work more carefully from the trunk. I was emotionally raw and tired, for it had been a week full of grieving, and in the middle of all this unpacking, I was overcome by tears. I sat on the edge of the snow bank in the warm sun with my Altared Self pieces and sobbed. It seemed as if the sun was embracing me, giving me permission to have a good long cry. I felt better after that, and suddenly wondered what it would look like if I threw some ashes onto my wet face. This is me always - having an experience, and then stepping back and observing it - wanting to make art about it. So I went to the back porch and took the lid off the ash bucket, grabbed a handful of the gritty gray particles, and sprinkled it over my face. I sat back down in the sun and snapped a few self-portraits. Then I gave myself a good facewash with snow, and felt worlds better. Energized, I finished unloading the car.

At lunchtime, out of curiosity, I Googled ashes and ritual and found this fascinating article. I was particularly interested to learn about the Sapindi ritual which takes place on the 13th day after a loved one's passing. I realized that the next day would be the 13th day after my mother's death. Oh, here was the arrow pointing, the permission to burn the Altared Self piece. The piece was about my old relationship with my parents, and I realized that now that they are both gone, I have a new, freer relationship with them, and with myself.

So, on Saturday at noon, I trudged through thigh deep snow, dragging the two big panels, and planted them firmly in the fluffy white stuff, then added a few of the other pieces that were part of the original installation. I dripped a few drops of fire starter on the panels, struck the match, and stood back. It started smoldering here and there before bursting into flames. It looked so beautiful! I was filled with excitement and delight, and starting taking pictures. It was incredibly satisfying to watch this piece morph and disappear, and when it had burned to the snow, I felt lighter, emotionally, and physically.

I've felt at peace since doing this strange ritual. I even dreamt that my mother called me on the phone to tell me that she loved me, something she was unable to do for the past few years, being tongue tied and stripped of memory from the Alzheimer's.

And now I have all this source imagery to work with. The original piece was so packed with information, these bits and pieces can be works on their own. I want to take these photos and crops of photos to my new studio space and start a series of drawings using them somehow...

The 13th Day

The 13th Day After My Mother Died/Ritual 2011