::The
arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making
life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a
way to make your soul grow, for heaven's sake. Sing in the shower.
Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy
poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous
reward. You will have created something.:: - Kurt Vonnegut, A Man Without A Country
I like to look at the chain; you know, the way things are linked together in a seemingly disparate manner but really are very well maneuvered to bring your life into alignment despite yourself. From setting a tangled necklace free, to linking the chain of events in a life, to seeing the interconnecting web of ideas which bring forth a new work of art, the relationship between all things is a passionate signature for me.
This past week as I was touring colonial homes in Merida, walking the fairgrounds at Xmatkuil, and listening to live music in Uman, I realized that all the images and all the words were for my job. It felt strange that all these sights and smells did not belong to me, the collector of chains. My job gifts me all manner of opportunities, enhancing my experience in the Yucatan, but I am living an encore artist life that is literally under contract.
I sense acknowledging this is progress. I've been without a studio and an art practice for several years. Each day I make a mental note of what needs to happen in order for me to get back to the studio. Initially, I believed I would start creating again once I arrived in Mexico. That was well over a year ago. Later, I used remodeling deadlines for my house in Merida as my excuse. If I allowed it, the list would go on forever. Fortunately, re-prioritizing what has been the shape of my life, my entire life, is not about allowing. Art is about trusting the process.
Though this particular kink in the chain has taken longer than usual to loosen, I never doubted that I would go back to work. This process to get to a place where I can make art again is like a scrapbook crammed with textured bits that are complex, straightforward, and yet can only be fully appreciated with a sideways glance of the swollen spine. The first pages are of the before, works I handed to others over the course of a professional art practice. Scattered throughout this scrapbook, some taking up only the corner of a dogeared page, are the components of my art therapy practice. In the last year the pages have shifted focus, incorporating the primary colors, the foundational elements to secure balance. As I thumb through these imaginary pages I realize that all I want, what I set out to create with my move to Mexico, is to simply be what I am - an artist.
In this past week, as I assimilated all that this scrapbook holds, strangers asked for my time and fellow artist stepped in their path. New healers appeared in the community, allowing placement of my dual career upon a folded page, left loose, into the folds of the scrapbook.
I am an artist with one clear image for a work. Others will follow. They always have.
Create the life you want!
The Broad
This past week as I was touring colonial homes in Merida, walking the fairgrounds at Xmatkuil, and listening to live music in Uman, I realized that all the images and all the words were for my job. It felt strange that all these sights and smells did not belong to me, the collector of chains. My job gifts me all manner of opportunities, enhancing my experience in the Yucatan, but I am living an encore artist life that is literally under contract.
I sense acknowledging this is progress. I've been without a studio and an art practice for several years. Each day I make a mental note of what needs to happen in order for me to get back to the studio. Initially, I believed I would start creating again once I arrived in Mexico. That was well over a year ago. Later, I used remodeling deadlines for my house in Merida as my excuse. If I allowed it, the list would go on forever. Fortunately, re-prioritizing what has been the shape of my life, my entire life, is not about allowing. Art is about trusting the process.
Though this particular kink in the chain has taken longer than usual to loosen, I never doubted that I would go back to work. This process to get to a place where I can make art again is like a scrapbook crammed with textured bits that are complex, straightforward, and yet can only be fully appreciated with a sideways glance of the swollen spine. The first pages are of the before, works I handed to others over the course of a professional art practice. Scattered throughout this scrapbook, some taking up only the corner of a dogeared page, are the components of my art therapy practice. In the last year the pages have shifted focus, incorporating the primary colors, the foundational elements to secure balance. As I thumb through these imaginary pages I realize that all I want, what I set out to create with my move to Mexico, is to simply be what I am - an artist.
In this past week, as I assimilated all that this scrapbook holds, strangers asked for my time and fellow artist stepped in their path. New healers appeared in the community, allowing placement of my dual career upon a folded page, left loose, into the folds of the scrapbook.
I am an artist with one clear image for a work. Others will follow. They always have.
Create the life you want!
The Broad
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2 comments:
Great post. It came to my mind, that I wonder if you know two good friends of mine. Karen Royer in Austin formerly of Round Top and Houston. And, Kay Cox, an art therapist who lives near NASA. I know in each profession that world is small and just wondered if your paths crossed.
Kay did an art workshop in Bali to release your inner child. I said to her, many years ago, "OH Kay, I so want to go" Kay jokingly (I think) said, "Barbara, your inner child is released every day". I took that as a compliment.........
I agree with Kay! From your blog post I would say you have a love of fun. I don't know either of them. Is Karen an art therapist?
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