it has been an intense time – a mo. of travel, then home to deep transition. we are in the heat of selling a house, moving into a temporary residence, buying a house.
our relatives, who have been staying with us these past 6 days, just left; and anja is just celebrating her 2nd day of being fever-free after a mystery illness that included a 17 day fever, 5 blood draws, and a hospitalization.
ari and i have been nose-to-the-grindstone, handling sh*t, handling sh*t, and today, as soon as our guests left, i left. to cry and scream in the car, to be alone, to walk in nature solo for the first time since i fractured my foot July 29.
immediately, the image of a woman, lying with hair flowing down. a short video. knife, slicing through the fabric beneath her. down. down. down. next one. blue dye releasing. bleeding. bleeding. bleeding.
everything is packed away. the paints. the food coloring i imagined using and thought i hadn’t yet packed away.
how to do this?
i clear the kitchen counter, prop the iPhone on a box of saltines on a kitchen stool, climb on the freezing cold granite countertop, try to relax as the phone counts down 10 seconds.
no blue dye. but there’s 1 bottle of green icing dye with a cracked lid. it’ll do. paint with mechanical pencil eraserhead. use spray can.
it’s an approximation of the vision but it is _done_ and was enacted upon and that is good enough for me.
that is life, now.
there are times, lately, looking at the stacks of canvas paintings downstairs, when i don’t ever want to make art, again, that takes up space.
i want to make art like this. ephemeral. in the moment. a photo or video documents it. it goes into the blue ether and i toss the object itself.
there have been times, recently, when the sh*t has hit the fan, when we are just functioning, functioning; or when we were traveling amidst people who haven’t hardly the leisure space we sometimes have; when “performance art” or any f*cking art feels utterly irrelevant and laughable.
and, yet, i circle back.