www.instagram.com/reel/COnCZk-Asx9/

…and the first twelve:  Insta reel 2 this morning

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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….

water1I’ve been floating like an embryo, building my body like the miracle it is.

number nine creek, taken at a family hike in spring 2011
number nine creek, taken at a family hike in spring 2011

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?

waterRock

 

Water2

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.

Mudbank_roots

Grant-writing uses an entirely different part of one’s brain than the bits trained in painting and music.

Morning-Glory-2015

 

I went subterranean twelve weeks ago, maybe more.  Came up again two days ago, I think.  I know this because I found myself gardening yesterday.

DomsLilly

This was a tunnel of a place I’ve been in, a way into and through the deep, long list entitled Impossible-but-Necessary.  In twelve weeks strong and beautiful people died, shockingly, suddenly, and those of us who grieve them turned inward then slowly forward; old and treasured things were broken then transformed phoenix-like amid the mourning, the loss.  Boundaries were breached, injuries dealt and received, some old trusts betrayed and also new ones established without question.  Concerts were rehearsed and played; family homes sold and contents dispersed, others burned and the tenants embraced by this rich community. Long overdue letters were written and sent; 50-year careers ended; a 20-year-old vehicle sold for parts; the streets in the city opened and excavated in the great replacement of metal with plastic…

BackyardLawn

As the boxes were packed and the old things released into landfill sites, recycling depots, re-store Judy Collins sang who knows where the time goes? to help the tears come.

As the goodbyes were said after the stories were told, as the weeping hugs were shared, Kodaly’s solo cello sonata raged and softened and spoke …

As the solos were played and the painting delivered; as the portfolio was presented and the university applications sent, Cohen sang ring the bells that still can ring, forget your perfect offering…

Through all the overnight insomnia on the studio couch Joni sang dream on, dream on...

Forsythia

As we turned forward into spring, and green and growth, david sereda sings, you’re beautiful.  Be You.  Coco Love Alcorn sings We gather ’round when we can, and we let ourselves be true…  Tyler Wagler sings …out the doorway, ‘way we go.  Where you lead, I will follow … Kati Gleiser plays Rachmaninoff and then sings our beauty back to us.

As the pipes thawed, so did we.