My first day...

It's 9:14am on December 23rd, 2005. It's as good a day as any to begin. I'm sitting in my Ballard, WA apt. My desk (well, OUR desk--Josh's stack of papers and computer is next to mine) is a mess. My camera is perched atop my scarf, accompanied by my badge from work, some crappy headphones, and an ipod with a spent battery. It's almost like my clutter has gathered together to see what will happen. I wish I knew.

Itunes is belting out my 'Top Rated' music, I'm wearing an Occidental College sweatshirt, my black fleece pants, and my red down slippers. I haven't showered in a couple days so my hair is perfectly matted from sleep. I am baking tiny little pumpkin bread loaves and Christmas cookies for our friends and family. I think the transition from office work to artwork needs time and patience so I am appropriately busy.

Background: I've been working since April 19th, 2005 (you'll notice that I have a thing for order, especially dates) and although it has been nice to get the monies and pay for stuff (heat, light, food, and the occasional trip to Banya 5) I have to say that I really feel like my soul took one look at the tiny storage space that I was temping in and went on vacation. I felt it leave...but couldn't entertain the idea of really committing to an artistic life. I pause at this point to reread "committing to an artistic life." I was too busy writing to edit myself and keep the words from tumbling out so accurately. I wanted this to be a kind of project...one that would eventually end and then I would go back to the soulless life. But I know that it can't be that way. Part of my maturation process is that not only am I currently faced with the future of a committed life in my relationship to Josh, but I face my own commitment to myself and my expression of myself, which means living the artistic life. It's a life I have BEEN living, more or less, and now I have to turn and look at it and perhaps, if I can stand it enough, CONSCIOUSLY create it.

When I was younger, I wrote that I wanted to be an artist when I grew up. I don't even remember being an artistic kid at all...I just remember having an idea of order and chaos and trying to living in between them. I had no idea what being an artist meant...well, it wasn't the same idea as I have now. Two and a half years at art school framed it pretty well for me...for a little while it gave me an excuse to NOT commit to art. I wasn't "crazy" enough to cut off ears, live hedonistically, and paint for 8-10 hours a day...so I let it slip out of my hands. I saw "artists." They had a look: mussed hair, eyes glazed over thinking about something inspiring (I imagined), artwork in galleries, their friends with loud laughs and a strange and intricate knowledge of wine.

Let's see: I've got the hair, sometimes the eyes, and loud-laughing friends. Three out of five ain't bad.

So I have spent a good chunk of my life doing different things...trying to dance with creativity in any way I could...most times I could only accept my own creativity if I was in therapy. Something about the two just go hand in hand. I feel fairly stable now...and of course that's when the idea of living an artistic life comes back around. To be fair to myself, I do live somewhat creatively and artistically. I have lots of books, some paintings, lots of notes jotted down on receipts, clothing that doesn't quite "go," and homemade christmas presents every year.

I think having more awareness and consciousness is about the process IN art. There is a process that I have denied myself...I get too frustrated and I quit, never quite examining what is happening when I get frustrated. I haven't explored my feelings THROUGH art.

I did this one shadow box in art school, my very first quarter. It was imitating Joseph Cornell's work. His shadow boxes were these strangely intimate pieces that he did for people. I made one of/for my dad. Since he passed away when I was seven, I have very few things that I hold onto regarding how I see him and how I saw myself as a kid.

It's a very simple box: He wrote me a letter before he died (he wrote a whole book to me and my siblings) and I took that letter, copied it, tea-stained it for antiquity (a great technique) and then did the same with the page I wrote (at 8 1/2) about being an artist when I grew up. I ripped those pages so that there was half of each and put them in the background. The letter from my dad was about how bright I was and what he saw in me and of course, my page was about what I saw in myself. On the bottom part of the box I glued a piece of fabric from my first sewing project (which went horribly, but I was still proud of it). Then I have a glass container of purple yarn that represents my bright purple carpet in my house in Kennewick. That image of my carpet, of the sun hitting it early in the morning, warms my heart.
Then I have a few Fisher Price people (the choking hazard kind) who are separated in a little cardbox box with a house drawn in the background. Those little armless people were my safe haven. I loved playing in solitude with my Fisher Price dolls. I could do it for hours. I would make them all line up (I had a lot) and march them through the town, one at a time. It was a lot of fun...:)
Then I have a white ceramic poodle. I collected them I think. I had a poodle in real life and I guess I just liked them.
And lastly I have this antique minature ice cream parlor chair. I got a set from my great Grandma Taylor. I never had any dolls or even a dollhouse, but I liked the chairs.
I painted the whole box green and then where there was some white poking out, I painted orange in the background. It was the best thing I did in 10 weeks of sculpture class and maybe even 2.5 years of art school.

Anyway, I look back now and that piece was deeply personal...it expressed this photographic style of memories that I keep with me as I navigate life. The words of my father, the good parts of my childhood, my own self-awareness, and the museum-like quality of my life. I love that piece. And I want to make more. I want to document the process I am going through and the process is DIRECTLY related to the creation of art...the messiness, the chaos, the idea of feeling powerful enough to CREATE a sense of something...creating emotion, creating a scene, creating a place to really engage in what has happened in my life.

Some things I am uncomfortable with: having drained my account to pay off my debt, I feel humbled. I have always supported myself (with the foresight and investments of my Grandpa Bing) and now I am partnering with Josh financially...it's a strange thing to even write. I can't even say "Josh will be supporting me." (There, I said it) It's a concept that I have been trained not to allow...but I see that there is something in that letting go...there is an openness, lightness, and a comfortable not-knowing. I may find something deeper than I imagined in the surrendering to the support of another. It may become support from many more...I never would have allowed it before. Something about pride...I think I still want to temp every once in a while so I can have some play money, but for the most part, I am committed to the challenges as well as the triumphs.

I also feel uncomfortable with the idea of expressing myself simply to express myself. I feel weird about it. It's strange. I have always seen $$$ when it comes to work or even play and this is a true test. My soul and heart, both excited to have some power back, have no problems of course. But my ego is really not liking this. I just have to be dilligent. I can liken my relationship with Josh to this process. I had no idea what was in store, all I knew was that I really liked him and I wanted to see how far we could go. And that has helped me develop a strong love and an unwavering commitment to him AND our process. Although looking internally is a lot harder, I know that those steps worked: moving slowly but REALLY intentionally. Looking at each part and making sure it's what I want to create. That's a really important part of my life.

On that tip, I think the commitment isn't just about time. It's about paying attention to the fact that I create my life in every aspect. I create my wardrobe, I create my speech patterns, I create my thoughts, I create my work. It's terribly liberating, emphasis on the terribly...now, look. I just said terribly...it's not terrible...it's amazing. It makes my heart speed up, and my leg bounce, and my hands move faster across the page...I am staring at the most liberating part of myself, the ability to create. Creating is really powerful. Not just biologically, but physically working with something and seeing it turn into something else...something a few days earlier was just a thought. Man, that's incredible. So how about incredibly liberating?

Judgement is always a challenge. Comparisons, perfection, monetary validation. It's all looming overhead. But commtiment is about seeing beyond that. Not looking outside to validate...looking inside to see if what I created truly reflects me. That's the only criteria. If not then I can go back and change it, if so, then I can move forward. Exciting!

So this blog will be documenting all this stuff. It will get heavy and long-winded for sure. Feel free to read it daily or check it when you're bored. I think there's a way to post comments/questions so feel free to do that. I am interested in not creating in a vacuum so any books, movies, websites, inspirations, critiques, etc are welcome. And so is commission work. :)
Happy reading.