I’ve been dreaming poetic dreams of mycelium which is really thought connecting to thought through boundaries which are really just illusions. I’ve been coiled and waiting like a pike in the hot weedy shallows, ready to spring at my duckling dinner. Racing like a strong salmon through the lines and hooks that dangle my possible death, crawling like a crayfish over the rocks at lake’s edge, pulling shadow over my body against the diving gulls….
Like fluid, this part of my #Water (working title) project has been, as I immerse myself in possibility. What can be made of these paintings, installed in a room, with sound? How can I build a visceral sense of connection and inclusion out of sound, light, and image? How can I describe an ecosystem – more than describe – evoke?
Re-re write my artist bio, tighten up my CV and struggle through the mud of my artist statement. I fill out forms and check my grammar, punctuation, spelling. I identify key points in my artistic approach and practise and do my best to describe to people I may never meet why my work is valuable. I choose paintings from previous shows that I hope will illustrate … my merit. I work out a budget that makes some kind of sense, re-write it without the extras, then pare it down a little more…
I notice a feeling of dehydration.
Grant-writing uses an entirely different part of one’s brain than the bits trained in painting and music.