Purple and pink. Burnt umber and grey. Who can tell what is real or dream? Last night in a dream I walked in tall grass. It scratched my legs. Today I walked through the same grass. Little white bugs flew up but never touched me. Fiona called them flies. “Mommy” she whined. “Flies are getting on my horsy”. I walk back through the flies and tall grass. A bit of asphalt on the ground catches my eye, I hadn’t noticed it the first time I passed this spot. The area intrigues me. Old remnants of structure, of road that used to be here. A strange brown bridge Jack, Fiona, and Valentina sit on. It’s old pieces of round, dark brown, wood, it almost looks like tree branches. It’s scratchy and splintery. It goes to nowhere over nothing, as if it were transplanted from a place it belonged. “Fiona, your horsey loves grass.” I say. She got a new play horse yesterday, she loves it. Memories flood me, being a kid, playing with my horses in the grass, pretending they were eating and I was going on a ride. I imagined what I did and did what I imagined. In nature. Under the sun, the dirt, red ants biting my butt, stepping on nails, getting tetanus shots. Bugs and beetles and pollywogs. Frogs and snakes and old barns, old trailer campers. Vacant rose greenhouses where the sun shines through the broken fiberglass roof and roses still bloom. We rode our ponies through, feeling what was, feeling what the space is for us. A vacation. A dream world with real spiders and scary stories. Purple and burnt umber. Pink and white. These are the colors I chose to paint with today. It was a good, productive day in my studio. Painted in my notebooks. Pulled apart tons of pages that have stuck together leaving scars. Leaving repairs to be done. Structure. But it went well. Realized I have a lot of pages to finish in my gargantuan notebook before my show this fall. I can do it. I take deep breaths throughout the day. I stay connected. I cocoon when I need to. I got what I needed today.
Category: Stream of conciousness
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“We are all connected, there is no me without you”. I feel a great excitement about the show in which I am a collaborator; Titled: Simpatico, showing with Carl Heyward, we will display solo works as well as collaborative pieces, at the Fourth Wall Gallery, Susan Aulik’s place. The energy generated by being involved in this project has been amazing. “From the efforts of one with another emerges entity, THE THIRD MIND” Carl Heyward. I found out we would get the opportunity to participate in a show at the Fourth Wall Gallery last year. It was before the San Francisco International DADA show, which GAP, Global Arts Project, was highly involved in, creating visual work, as well as a performance piece. We also were coming off a show at Room Gallery; a beautiful show. I was disappointed that not one of my works sold, only one artist sold work, even though each piece in the show was stellar. I started feeling disillusioned by all the effort and money it takes to have shows, and couldn’t understand why nobody buys work? I went to the Fourth Street Gallery on a first Friday, opening night. I brought my babies, brother, and his girlfriend. We ate Ethiopian food first, super yummy! We walked down Telegraph Avenue to 25Th street, it was dark out, it was the first time I brought the babies to Oakland; My old stomping ground. I couldn’t believe the change that had taken place on that block, First Fridays: Food Trucks, cool earrings to buy, people, lots of people, there were lots of cops too. On the corners and around the perimeters. When I saw the Galleries I was in Shock. I had heard of Vessel, someone I knew had shown there, but I never made it by; It was a friend of my mom and I’s, my mom had just died, I was really sad. I lived on 19Th and Union in West Oakland for a while. I had an awesome studio in an old warehouse: Dark, lots of old machinery and old office stuff laying around. We’d get stoned and go down there and look at stuff. (We lost our space when a developer came and built fancy, expensive lofts: Circa 1999. We were pissed) I remember nights at the Stork Club where my best friends band, The Kirby Grips used to play. We’d dress up in boots and skirts, dance, get drunk, and ride our bikes home, looking down every street for the pack of wild pitbulls. As I walk down the hall towards the Fourth Wall Gallery there are shiny, pretty paintings on the white walls, bright lights, I peer into the other Galleries, some I go in, investigate further. Pricing is high here, except for a craftsman who makes cool political found art stuff, I can’t remember his name (Bad reporting here) The Fourth Wall Gallery is Gorgeous and Susan Aulik is an inspiring woman and has a deep connection with painting, being an artist, and being a supporter and soldier for the arts communities’. I feel fortunate to have met her! When I left Oakland that night I felt a bunch of emotional feelings. The way things had changed was both amazing and wonderful and I also felt there was still a disconnect. Art is so expensive, most people don’t have $4000 to spend on a piece of art. Susan, Carl, and I agreed we wanted more people to be able to own art, make art assessable for more people. But the question is, How low do you go? I proposed a sliding scale. But I’m crazy. We’re also going to have a big sale in December with lots of other artists! The ways the past merges with the present and informs the future is crazy. I don’t know why but that sentence just made me think of Diarrhea. When one person gets it you know it’s gonna make the rounds! Why would I even think of something like that? I better get down to the studio before Jack and Fiona wake up. I probably have an hour left.