Lost in Art Space

Spent all weekend working on collages/journal prompts

for my on-line A Life Made by Hand class.

Spent all weekend moving laundry through

the washer/dryer/fold/put-away cycle.

Spent all weekend thinking it was

January 9th & 10th. Go figure.

Got a lot done, though. 

Even took time out for a small gallivant

with My Lovely Mother. 

Saturday, the Phoenix Cardinals lost,

but my testosterone posse was ok with that.

Sunday, though, the Cowboys lost,

& I'm not describing the reaction of

my testosterone posse to that.

0 for 2 by way of teams.

As for me, I arranged my nap time during both games.

* * * * * * * *

First, a few prepared collage backgrounds,

awaiting journaling in response to selected prompts:

* * * * * * * *

Signed myself up for a free

interior decorating workshop at Pottery Barn,

something they're offering once a month.

Decorate your Bedroom.

I'm excited, and frankly relieved it ain't about kitchens!

For 2 months I've been seeking out

opportunities for FREE LEARNING,

anything to push me out of my studio

& expose me to new ideas, processes, etc.,

so this is pretty cool!

Did you know Williams Sonoma has free

technique classes once a month, too?

Go Foodies! 

* * * * * * * *

And now some of my backgrounds with the journaling included,

and I'm off to work!

I am Venice.

water & lace,

both hidden & revealed.

Echoes, reflections, illuminated,

whispers, historicity,

private, raw, passionate,

quiet, intricate, intimate.

Conformity, Surrender to Pressure, 'Miss Congeniality' Syndrome

I'm scared as hell of hiding myself,

hushing my own voice in the face of

social, media, & cultural pressures & expectations to be

a certain kind of woman,

a clone, a yes-woman,

a "girl" no matter how old, experienced, intelligent I am.

I'm scared as hell of making the choice to

dumb myself down,

shrink-to-fit,

to accommodate ANYONE else's

comfort zone or limitations.

I'm scared as hell of EVER becoming

a blow-up doll,

an arm trophy,

an outline or silhouette (only) of

a real woman, a real individual.

I'm scared as hell of selling myself out for

approval, love, a job, anything.

I'm scared as hell of

trading my 'balls' for Botox,

or trading in my honesty for

any kind of 'bone.'

I'm scared as hell of being nice

when some truth needs to be told.

I WILL NOT BE

A COOKIE CUTTER FEMALE.

NO ONE WILL

MAKE ME "SAFE" EVER AGAIN.

I REBEL:

against settling for status quo,

against curling up in comfort zones,

against cherishing habit over change,

against turning into a petrified rock

&

calling it my life.

I want to play, seek, question, grow,

light dynamite under my own ass,

implode boundaries,

find new ways,

learn, always be becoming!

I want to slam dunk on fear.

I want to be the MVP of my own life.

Peace is via my pen:

description, recording, analyzing, chatting, recalling,

vowels & consonants becoming

thought, idea, poetry, story.

Peace is in choosing the details to tell & how to tell them.

Peace is not just writing, but claiming it at last:

I AM A WRITER!!

Without apology, guilt, or backing down.

WITH pride & delight & pure acceptance.

Peace is knowing who I am.

Peace is a celebration of identity,

found,

named,

owned.

Peace is calm, sure self-awareness.

* * * * * * * *