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Archive for the ‘new work’ Category

so how is your sleep?

Friday, September 11th, 2020

new WIP

A couple weeks ago I wrote a comment on FB about having attended a Zoom class on End of Life Options. My comment ended with the paperwork alone would kill you! I came clean in my comments about my husband’s descent into Parkinson’s, a disease he has battled for 9 years now. Because this disease does not actually cause death, we are exploring his options for when he decides he has had enough. In opening up about this, I received incredible support from hundreds of people. I was a bit embarrassed because I feel it is his story to tell, until someone reminded me it is also my story, as his caregiver and spouse.

My ‘coming out’ with the story led me to seeking support for myself as his caregiver. I had been down this road before, as caregiver, and yet how quickly I had forgotten about self-care and self-compassion. In one of my encounters in ‘building my team’ I was asked about my sleep. How is your sleep? I say, it’s fine, as it generally is…that is until it isn’t. Some of my best work has been designed in the night. As example…

Way before the pandemic, maybe 9 months ago, maybe a year ago I had some cloth printed at Spoonflower with words related to taxation. I took it into the wet studio and printed the same words on the whole cloth. I heat set it, brought it into my upstairs studio, folded and placed on the bed of the overhead projector,  where it has resided since. After finishing my second BLM piece, I felt like I needed a break before embarking on no 3. The long ago but not forgotten aforementioned piece of cloth came to mind. I pinned it up on my design wall, and nothing happened! I masked off certain sections to give me some perspective, nothing happened. I envisioned trees, but still nothing happened.

Two nights ago I was awake for several hours in the night. I forgot what started the conversation, but somewhere in the depths of those thoughts came divine inspiration. Money growing on trees! This morning I went in and in 20 minutes designed this piece that has languished for well over a year. Tomorrow I will begin the stitching! When someone asks how long this one took me, I can definitely say, a year!

I am humbled, grateful and surprised, how with all the despair in the world right now, that I am able to make art. Just yesterday I felt overwhelmed by the 6 months we have lived in isolation, while others go to the beach, to Vegas, to dinner with friends and on and on and on….because they are weary of isolation. I’m weary too. I miss travel too. I miss seeing friends too. It’s not just about you!  Our beautiful West Coast is on fire again, we can’t breathe the air, we can’t meet inside, we can’t go outside, the horrendous vitriol being slung from both sides, and yet somewhere within there is this bright light that seems to need to be making art.

It is a wonder, to me, as well.

on inspiration for MY new work…

Thursday, August 13th, 2020

detail… Somebody’s Child 1

Ever since I switched from designing ‘pretty’ quilts to narrative work, I have attracted people who want to advise me on subject matter! One of the reasons I now make narrative work is it allows me to express my voice, and opinion without physically marching in the streets. For as my body has aged, my desire to actively protest has subsided.  Instead I let my work speak for me. And it seems I have a lot to say. I have a file of ideas, longing to come to fruition.

So when I recently shared on social media that my new Black Lives Matter work titled Somebody’s Child was juried into an important exhibit, someone told me I should make work about the thousands of lives lost to opioid addiction.  My immediate reaction was this person, also an artist, had lost someone dear to her to addiction.

I encouraged her to make such a piece. She responded that she couldn’t, it would be too large.  When I showed another work on gun violence, an acquaintance suggested I make work about abortion. She, being a devout Catholic, obviously is very passionate about the subject. It really struck me then just how badly people want their voice heard, but seemingly do not want to ‘risk’ putting it out there themselves.

Culture of Fear, detail

I simply cannot make work that does not speak to me! What is the point? Am I just an art factory? I think not. Instead I encourage people with a cause to find their own constructive way to express it. You only live once!

I follow a funny account on Instagram called CanYouSewThisForMe?  My daughter turned me on to it. She has two degrees in fashion design and while she does not work in the field, she sews and knits most of her own personal wardrobe. She is always being asked if she will sew something for somebody? Or worse yet being told, she could sell that for everything she makes. The woman knows that. She knows she could sell it. She does not want to. Not everything in life has a price!

So back to CanYouSewThisForMe?...the postings are mostly hilarious. A lot of people want a knockoff designer wedding gown, in 3 days for less than $50, because they don’t have much money. Uh, why are you having a fancy wedding if you have no money?  I definitely need to add my ‘new work’ idea suggestions!

My mother’s voice just came to me… These folks mean well, or this is a compliment. Yeah I know that. As do I. I mean well when I suggest they find their own voice, speak up, demonstrate, protest, write letters, campaign, make art, whatever.

You do you, and I’ll do me.

Somebody’s Child…

Sunday, July 12th, 2020

Somebody’s Child

There is a lot of hesitancy on my part in posting about this work. I recognize that old master, the stay quiet, keep your feelings to yourself, don’t show initiative or courage or emotion. Go to your room, sit back, look pretty, don’t speak, no one cares what you have to say, don’t embarrass the family, don’t talk about personal things and never ever speak about anything controversial. Keep your mouth shut. These were not just words of my programming but by the white privilege culture in general.

No growth ever comes from playing it safe. In fact, stagnation comes from playing it safe. Stagnation and fossils grow from these outdated rules and old threats. None one challenges them. They just keep playing by the same rules, because that is all they know or they are too scared to learn differently. Nothing good comes from it.

Growth only comes from stepping way outside the comfort zone. Growth comes from allowing myself to be embarrassed and humiliated for how people of color have been treated by people of privilege for far too long in American history, let alone world history. Growth comes from worrying about saying the right thing, so as to not make the situation worse. So, I put on my big girl panties and post my work, which undoubtedly will embarrass or humiliate those I know who still play by the rules. Growth is painful. It is cumbersome and full of missteps. But I am stepping out, taking baby steps in my size 13’s.

When George Floyd was recorded as he was being asphyxiated by a white cop in Minneapolis on May 25th, like many I reacted not only to the brutality of his murder, but to his dying words calling out for his Mama. I doubt any mother in touch with her humanity did not feel that heartbreak. Those moments were the inspiration for this new work about black lives matter. I researched the numbers of black people killed by police in America and sadly learned over 28,000 people (of all nationalities) had fatal encounters with police in this 21st century. I gathered names, states and causes of death of over 4700 African Americans who died of gunshots or asphyxiation from police encounters.

detail…left are names of 76 asphyxiated by police

The center section of this piece reflects the printed names of the 76 black lives extinguished by police asphyxiation and/or restraint between 2000-2020. The surrounding names are but a tiny percentage of the over 4700 black people killed by gunfire in encounters with police.  I found this information to be so profuse that I really struggled with who to include, who to exclude, as if I were extinguishing their flame a second time & also how best to honor all these lost lives. How to create an artwork to honor all these murdered black people?   It seems very apparent to me that more, larger works will follow.  This work is titled Somebody’s Child, (click for larger view) as all of these folks had Mamas. Many mamas are mourning.

It is not lost on me how traditional this piece is, in shape and design. It was not intentional, but the shapes of the components really created it. Another old master, perfectionism nearly caused the piece to land in the trash a few times. Once I was able to get out of my own way, and ignore the errors I made in technique and construction, I was able to recall the passion of my intention. After all, it is not the messenger but the message.

Besides that old rule, about perfectionism can work to my benefit, allowing me the opportunity to make more work on this subject…until I get it right! Sadly there is endless inspiration.

 

 

 

on the mind-body connection…

Wednesday, June 24th, 2020

now this would make a pretty quilt!

I have been a firm believer in the mind-body connection for over 40 years. I only go to the doctor when I have exhausted all other options, which is infrequent. And yet, occasionally, I forget…

I have been actively self-educating on black history for a while now. I am not a great reader, which is the main reason I dropped out of college, as a junior. My reading comprehension is largely MIA. I am a visual learner, so I have taken a visual approach to learning these stories which I either missed in school, were not taught in school or certainly were not discussed in the white privilege world in which I grew up and continue to live.

In the past month we have watched Harriet, Selma, and Just Mercy for starters; with many more in the queue. I also watched a PBS special on Toni Morrison, and have read three anti-racist books so far. I was seriously enlightened by Debby Irving’s Waking up White. She grew up like I did in a middle-class white neighborhood in the ‘burbs. In reading her story it felt as if she wrote it from my childhood home. I had NO idea that the advantages in my life were at the cost of the disadvantages to black people. It wasn’t that I didn’t care; I just did not think about it. White privilege in action!

Suddenly it all made sense, that in order for people to succeed, others must fail. My entire childhood was built on success, my father’s success and the anticipated success of my sisters and I. Because I chose to leave college, my anticipated success was squelched, never to be resurrected, in his eyes.

For me art-making has led to my own version of success. I don’t really care if I am considered successful by others. I know who I am. I find my success in producing art that says something, which is also my personal form of protest. My aged body does not take lightly to protesting in the streets, surrounded by hundreds of others. I protested the Vietnam war as a newlywed. That was our time, and now my protest comes in the form of visual art.

As I have been self-educating, I forgot one really important detail for this sensitive spirit. I forgot that unreleased emotions fester. All of the black history movies I have seen so far have felt like an emotional gut punch; and actually were. I have been heartbroken, devastated and sorrowful for how black people have been and continue to be treated throughout US history. I have felt that sorrow and I held onto it. It will release eventually in artwork, but for now while I am learning and researching, it is taking a physical toll on me.

I only put this together in the night, when I do my best thinking! I have had acute belly pain for a week now. The belly is my go-to spot for stress reactions. Because I have done over 40 years of acupuncture and holistic medicine, I know that I hold anger & stress in my belly. How did I not put this together before? Funny, I asked a practitioner that once…why did this not occur to me before? Her response always was, yes, but you remembered now!

So I am back to the basics, eating belly-friendly food (rice and bananas), having acupuncture and listening to calming music, practicing meditations, doing yoga stretches, etc, while I continue my research.

This morning hubs suggested I no longer do this work that “upsets” me so, saying I should return to making pretty quilts. I told him I NEED to do this work. This is my purpose at this stage in my life. I am finally using my voice and I have something to say! This is my personal protest.

I just need to be more aware of my own reactions, my own emotions about these tragically sad stories and history. I need not internalize my reaction, but instead save that emotion for my art.

I’ve always been a sensitive soul with a sensitive physiology to match. I’ve learned this is what makes me a good creative. I consider it a huge blessing to feel; and to make art from those feelings. So I am re-framing, one more time and moving forward.

I have memorized this owner’s manual. Occasionally I simply forget where I left it…

artistic license run amok…

Sunday, June 14th, 2020

step 1

In April I posted about freshly painted cloth for new projects. My intention with the red and blue was to create a piece about the toxic tribalism that is plaguing our country. Tribalism has been around since the beginning of time but in the last three years has become increasingly toxic. There are many opinionated people, seemingly most of them are on social media. All of their real life & online friends are people who think just like they do. They have no tolerance nor respect for anyone who thinks otherwise. And often they hide behind their keyboard spewing hatred towards anyone who doesn’t think like they do. It has become incredibly toxic to our society and humanity, this world of US and THEM.

I typed a Word doc of words, phrases, various aspects of tribalism and screen-printed that to cloth. After heat-setting the paint I put both the red and blue painted cloths up on the design wall. I stared at those for over a month. I kept waiting for divine inspiration. Nothing happened.

A colleague posted an image of her WIP and a light bulb went off. Her work was composed of multiple geometric pieces. DUH…go back to quilting 101! Cut up pieces of fabric and piece a background. As I sorted through my various blue and red batiks and silks, I came up with a new design. The pieced backgrounds grew, then the next decision was what shape I wanted to make this work. I knew I did not want your basic geometric quilt shape.

before the stenciled letters came the pieced letters …

I wanted something that exemplified the chaos created by this tribalism. So I worked towards a big piece that was exactly the same dimensions on each side, of the blue and red. I got it all pieced and cut to match, and still it wasn’t right. I thought about my works Upheaval with their wonky shapes. Maybe I could do something like that? Instead of doing something familiar though, I decided to make it really difficult for myself!

step 2

I took a photo with my phone and printed out three pages of the image. I proceeded to cut and tape various combinations of a different shape. I came up with three good ideas. I laid out the big background on my design table and cut what I thought were equivalent-sized strips. One by one I sewed together batting & backing of each stripe. I overlaid fused letters of US and THEM in opposing colors and then took the quilt-lets to the mid-arm and stitched.

Back in the studio, I arranged the quilt-lets on the design wall. Somehow with all my careful measuring and cutting the composition was heavy on the red and not equal with the blue. I didn’t like it! So I sewed an extra 5″ blue quilt-let (which I ended up not using!)

I decided each quilt-let needed blocking so it would lay more flat. I blocked them. After they had blocked, I tried different compositions. I tried weaving the strips, nah, that hides the lettering.

woven quilt-lets, on black Kona as design wall surface is now deteriorating from all the blocking…

Nothing resonated. I began to research buying more red and blue batiks, online during the pandemic, and to start over. I decided to try one more thing first.

I would backstitch the quilt-lets together. I did so, leaving the bottom half of each quilt-let open. This allowed them to twist and turn as they wanted to do. And what a perfect metaphor for the dissension within the tribes! So I continued on, whip-stitching from the backside, until I had a full composition. Still the reds were wider than the blues. Then I remembered there are more red states than blue states in the US, so that is ok. (as if artists license were not enough!)

I still was not sure I liked it. I began to consider how many pieces of art I have made but did not like (not that many, actually). I just began to let go of it. Not everything is a masterpiece. I pressed it again and pinned to block on the wall. When it was dry I took it downstairs to photograph, for posterity, because surely it is not going anywhere else!

When I turned on the photo lights, something really weird happened. I really LOVE this piece! All that angst and turmoil turned into a piece I am really proud of!

Tribalism, 2020 …finito!

This quote is printed on the front and back of this work….

The individual has always had to struggle to keep from being overwhelmed by the tribe. If you try it, you will be lonely often, and sometimes frightened. No price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself. Friedrich Nietzsche

 

lovin’ me some blanket stitch…

Saturday, May 2nd, 2020

As of today we have been ‘sheltering in place’ aka SIP, in isolation, on lockdown social distancing and in captivity for

pathway rock

7 weeks, aka 42 days. In all honesty it really has not been that bad! Of those days I have only had one where I thought will this ever end? Mostly it has been like everyday life with the exception of not seeing friends, going to lunch, getting culture and grocery shopping. Oh how I miss grocery shopping, which of course is something I never thought I would say. With the kindness & generosity of friends, neighbors and kin we are thriving.

In our past life, we would be packing this weekend for a trip to France on Monday. I had planned to take an organic embroidery workshop in Brittany at a fabulous country manor, taught by a Dutch artist Mirjam Gielen, who I follow on Instagram. When she mentioned this workshop on her feed, I jumped on it, as the class was for just 8 people. I pondered, decided, reserved class and air all within 24 hours!

As the coronavirus began to spread from Asia into Europe I began to rethink the possibility of making this trip. With my husband’s mobility becoming more and more challenged, I began to worry whether he could make this trip, how (un)cooperative he might be about accepting assistance in airports and on land. So using the virus as an excuse that he could accept, I canceled the trip. Eventually the class was postponed anyway as the virus spread throughout France, and then within the US.

Because I had to cancel for reasons other than the virus, and obviously would not be able to take the workshop, no matter when it was rescheduled, Mirjam graciously asked me if I would like to proofread the tutorial she wrote for the class? That way I would be able to glean the material from the class without attending. After all, I had paid a non-refundable deposit for the workshop. I agreed. She sent me the 50+ page tutorial in a .pdf file while I was in the middle of resizing images for my updated website. So when I finished that, I started reading her materials. Initially I thought that 50 pages would take me a long time, as I am such a slow reader, or rather lousy at comprehension. Yet the material was interesting and fascinating, and I felt, when finished as if I had actually attended the class.

One of the stitches that rocked my world was the blanket stitch. I had tried it several times on my own and always came up with a jumbled mess. I used it in the most recent ‘morning walk’ stitched collage, as part of a rose petal, and it turned out well. So now I am on to another morning walk stitching and I have used it as the crevices in a flat stone, cut for a walkway.

blanket stitched rose petal

My morning walk collages have become part of my ritual of walking our dog. Since we have been SIP for 42 days, there have been no excuses, appointments, classes, lunches, cultural outings, nothing to interfere with getting our exercise by walking the pooch. So every other day for 42 days I have been walking Mops, and taking photos of things that catch my eye along the way.

I started taking photos while walking, about 5 years ago, as a way to distract myself from the creaking & cracking of my bones and/or pain from my joints, while out walking. Because I am visually oriented, I see art in everything! So I started taking photos with my phone, while walking the dog. Using an app or two I collage the photos and post to my social media accounts on Instagram and Facebook.

Friends started commenting about how my morning walk photos inspired them to notice more on their walks, and so on and so forth; which to me is pure gravy! How these images have transformed my visual acuity is a whole ‘nother story. I really feel as if my morning collages have grown into an art-form, in of itself as opposed to how it started off taking photos to otherwise occupy my mind. So now, we are out there, every other day, hubs using his walker, and me walking the dog & taking photos. During SIP we have now walked 22 miles and taken a lot of photos of glorious spring blooms and cracks in the sidewalk.

rock crevices

The stitching of the morning walks came from my need to be doing something while I watch TV. I had already hand-stitched three morning walk collages, before the pandemic began. Yesterday I finished a fourth and now it is blocking. Then I printed out four more, because once the wide format printer is fed with cloth, one wants to keep printing!

So I have begun anew and am enthralled once again with the blanket stitch. The rock (above) was sliced from a larger stone, laid out in a pathway in one of the beautiful gardens we passed by the other day. Using the blanket stitch to fill in the crevices, I am already dazzled by the start of the stitching of another morning walk collage.

Of course the question always comes into play…what will I do with this? Others ask, but I tend to not put that pressure on myself. The destination does not matter, it is the journey that is important.

What I do know is the hand-stitching of my morning walk collages is definitely contributing to my mindfulness during the pandemic.

 

the muse is back…

Saturday, April 11th, 2020

printed cloth…does that say asses?!

A weird thing happened on the way to the pandemic..my creativity came back. A lot of folks are saying theirs has completely dried up, they are filled with anxiety and/or the only sewing they are doing is mask-making.

My creative muse has been MIA since my dear friend and project partner Marion died, nearly a year ago. How that year has flown, with my missing her all along the way. When she left my excitement for art-making went with her.  I mostly have just leaned into it, spending my time doing hand-stitching a ‘morning walk’ collage, and reading, which for me is truly foreign.

We have now been in isolation for 4 weeks tomorrow. I realized during the first week that in order to maintain my sanity I needed to not take in too much information. The nightly news, plus the “breaking news” plus the pandemic specials plus the “news” conferences plus the local news, plus all the scary stories online all became just too much. Besides hubs is watching enough for the two of us!

We all know what to do by now. Stay home, wear a mask when you do go out, wash your hands, and keep social distance from others. I don’t know about you, but it does not do me any good to be more any informed than that. It just scares me. It makes me anxious. It make me angry. It gives me nightmares. It kills my creativity. And so I simply stopped listening. Just tell me when it is over!

As my right brain creativity was awakening I was hard at work on a left brain task. That was resizing and uploading images of my work, for 7 days straight as my website was being redesigned. The timing could not have been more perfect; for once my schedule was free. It needed a contemporary makeover and I am very pleased with the outcome. I was daily reminded of just how prolific I have been at making art. And that did not even include at least 30 early works for which I had no images, other than quilts on clotheslines!  I debated how much of the Tall Girl Series to put up on the site, whereas before I had three images, and the book, which is now out of print. Finally I decided this was not the time to be shy; after all this work has been shown far and wide, in six exhibits, so I uploaded all 23 pieces.

As I was finishing that job, I began to ponder… what is next? I work best when I have the next piece (following the one I haven’t made yet) in the pipeline. So as I was taking a break from PhotoShop, I went to the basement and began to paint cloth for two new pieces. Additionally just before we went into isolation, I ran to Kinkos and made copies to create screens for printing several new works, so those were ready to go.

strip letters

Today I played around with sewing letters by strip piecing ala Chawne Kimber. It was a bit of a challenge, as sewing strips of anything is not my best work but I kept at it, while watching/listening to a recorded program. The jury is still out as to whether I will use them or not, but I kind of like them and will continue to play around until the wording is finished, before I decide.

Everyone is coping with this history-making time in their own way. I say yes! Find something you love to do, whether it be sewing masks for thousands of first responders, working in the garden, bingeing on Britbox or Netflix, baking till the cows come home, or painting anything, just do it.

And stop listening to so much news, because like it or not the anxiety and stress are not good for you either.

Be well…

 

 

 

on a lasting marriage…

Friday, April 3rd, 2020

…just married (1971)

Forty nine years ago today I married a man I met on a blind date just the year before. My first thought this morning was I would do it again, in a heartbeat, because in those 49 years, I have learned so much. I learned so much about him, about myself, about tenacity, about strength, about courage, about wisdom, about endurance, about stubbornness, about love, about character and about commitment.

While I tend to think of myself as level-headed, easy-going, flexible; I truly am complex. I am an artist after all! I really don’t think being married to me has been a picnic. Yet the stoic Swede has been steady Eddy for all of these 49 years. And how blessed have I been to have his calming force in my life.

Everything about our lives together has been yin and yang. He grew up as an only child in San Francisco, the son of an immigrant carpenter, whose parents argued constantly and loudly. He left home as soon as he could, joined the Army, went to Germany during Vietnam era, came back and joined the Daly City Fire Department, where he worked for 33 years.

I was raised in an affluent suburb of San Francisco, the eldest of three daughters, of a corporate executive. My parents never argued in front of the children, but often slung sarcastic biting comments at each other. They were not pleased when I became engaged to this stranger from another world, this blue collar person. Sadly, for them, they never took the time to know him, to comprehend his character, his kind & generous heart; instead directing their attention to the husbands of my sisters, both Mr. Flash and Dash. Neither of those marriages lasted.

So coming from such diverse backgrounds, and having such opposite personalities, it has been an interesting ride. We both had to learn good communication styles; his calmer, mine more direct.  I’ve had a lifetime of grandiose ideas. He has always been the voice of reason, the ballast to my sails. Had I not met him I would probably be living in my car! We have accomplished more than anyone on my side thought possible. We bought a home, raised a child, were good worker bees, traveled the world, retired early & securely. Yea… a real disappointment!

stitched photo of walk down aisle

I, of the grandiose ideas have been plotting course for the potential of our 50th anniversary. Yet this year I have been dealt another dose of reality as my rock is crumbling. His body wracked with Parkinson’s is failing him. I don’t know if he will be able to travel a year from now. He often reminds me that we have seen more of the world than most people. We have seen 46 of the 50 states, and 14 countries for me, 12 for him. (I went solo to Japan and Hong Kong in 2002). Recently I’ve thought we might just do something low-key to commemorate 50, unlike the big parties my grandparents had to celebrate theirs, when we were just newlyweds. We are going to practice for 50 by celebrating our 49th with a takeout dinner, in lockdown due to the coronavirus!

The images are of Defining Moments 16: Marriage. I dismantled my wedding dress, which my mother had made. It was exquisitely and intricately sewn of heavy cotton pique, lined with heavy flannel. I could have gotten married in January in the Yukon in that dress, it was that sturdy! In honor of my maternal heritage we had a Russian theme, thus the headscarves.

Some thought it sacrilege that I would take apart my wedding dress! GASP!  I made a screen from the vows in our wedding book, screen-printed those to the cloth and then layered it with my headscarf, the hand-crocheted headscarf of my Russian great-grandmother, and a bridesmaid’s dress. Yes, they did wear red/white/blue paisley dresses with go-go boots. It was the 70’s after all.

Defining Moments 16: Marriage

Yes, marrying the stoic Swede was definitely one of my better defining moments.

 

 

 

 

new work…

Saturday, March 7th, 2020

the very abstract Liar Liar 1

Just before my creative process came to a grinding halt, I finished two new pieces! They were both inspired by our pathological liar-in-chief. As many in my generation I was raised to be honest and sincere in my speech. Any lie I told got me in a whole lot of deep doo doo. So I continue to be stunned and amazed by our leader whose default is to just make up shit. I am reminded of that childhood taunt, liar liar, pants on fire.

With over 16,000 lies to choose from, I chose 100 to print to cloth. In Liar Liar 1, I had manipulated the image too much before sending it to print. The cloth arrived and the words were not as legible as I would have liked, so I designed another image in PhotoShop, had that printed to silk chiffon, which I then screen-printed, overlaid, stitched and slashed. I like it a lot, although it is very abstract. One has to really study the piece to see what it says which is also ok.

Liar Liar 1, detail

So I went back to the drawing board and manipulated the file again, had it commercially printed a second time, cut and rearranged, and laid flames on top to depict the liar on fire, which is Liar Liar 2.

Liar Liar 2

detail Liar Liar 2

Since then, my creative process came to a screeching halt. There are a number of factors; i.e. my having had two viruses in two months time, all the political chaos, being over-scheduled, and my husband’s declining mobility and worrying about travel because of that. Just yesterday I cancelled a spring trip to France. The coronavirus was an easy excuse when in reality I am more concerned about his ability to make long haul trips anymore. He reminds me we have seen more of the world than most people, and that is true. It really comes down to common sense and gratitude.

Nothing our fearful leader knows anything about.

ponderings from a sick mind…

Sunday, February 23rd, 2020

nurse Mopsy earns a night off…

I’m now on day 5 of a cold virus which followed on the footsteps of another nasty virus, which lasted 5 weeks. Actually in between was two weeks of relative calm, when I had just began to notice I was not coughing. To say I am discouraged is an understatement.

Me, the one who never got sick ever, for decades, now has had this nasty cold in one form or another three times in the last 8 months. That’s counting the post-air travel colds which always seem to inhabit my body despite all my OCD cleaning on board the aircraft, eating healthy, exercising and taking lots of Vitamin C.

So while obsessing about why I keep getting these bugs I remembered something a healer once told me. Getting these bugs and conquering them is building resistance for the really big things. OK, that sounds good enough. But really, two colds in 2020, already?

Before the latest cold arrived I enjoyed two weeks of angst about my work. I have not been able to just start …although I have plenty of ideas and God knows, fabric. I have a new clean sink in my wet studio, that is just begging for abuse. And still there was nothing, but angst.

Meanwhile someone (who?) recommended a book on FB, that I decided to read. I have notoriously poor retention when I read, so seldom does a book capture my attention. But the recommender (is that even a word?!) said the book gives clarity on white privilege. I decided I needed that clarity, as I was certain I did not have white privilege, thinking it was attitude more than anything. Was I wrong!

I could not put this book down. It was fabulous and really gave me insight and understanding. The footnotes were enlightening, especially to read the author, being a white woman, had great concerns about writing about white privilege, and how her novel would be perceived & accepted.

a great read…

I followed up by buying another book from her bibliography, titled ‘Waking Up White’by Debby Irving. I was reminded of my gratitude once again to my dear friend Marion for initiating my education on race. It was so incredibly easy to think racial issues do not apply to me or my life, which of course is part of the problem.

 

 

 

In other creative writing…today while reading the Sunday Chron obituaries, I was reminded that my father wrote his own obit, as I have come to realize a lot of folks do. Today’s paper brought another, of a 74 yo male, who died ‘unexpectedly’ and yet whose obituary 9 days later was nothing short of his professional CV. Clearly he was expecting to die and in his spare time, between being the world’s greatest barrister of all times, a superhuman husband and ‘loving’ father of four; he found time to write this lengthy and (dare I say) boring tome about his life. To me it is the ultimate control freak who writes their own obituary! Nobody’s life is THAT interesting, and nobody cares, after you die, and maybe even while you are living, how many dragons you slayed on your way to the office in January 1963.

There is something synchronistic about white privilege and the obituary of the white male professional.  It is another reminder that success often comes at the expense of others.

As a footnote, you have NO idea how challenging it is to me to write these words publicly. It is my heritage and my upbringing that nags me to remain small, unseen, no opinion, no voice. If I have learned anything from my own narrative art it is I do have a voice and  my opinion matters. It may be like that guys obit, who cares? but the world has not ended with my going public on various taboo subjects.  My husband is often unsure who it is with whom he is living. Subjects he relished 40 years ago have just wandered into my consciousness. Needless to say life here is never dull, although he has better cold-fighting mechanisms than I do.