So, yes, I keep dwelling on it, thinking about it, hoping I'll see something I missed, some clue to a fix that circumnavigates the truth of chemistry and psysiology. Some magic mantra, trick of the mind, new insight.
I tell myself that This Will Pass. and Things Will Get Better
I believe this, on a certain level, but it's not the one I'm operating on at the moment. I say the phrases over and over to myself until they become symbols (like 'billion" and "trillion") for concepts that I recognize but can't truly grasp. They are reduced to abstractions and I can't remember feeling good any better than I can imagine a billion.
Is this whining? Admittedly, maybe. The future me who is back in the studio and working won't have much patience with this crap. Perhaps you don't either, and I don't blame you one bit.
Still, I promised to share the good the bad and the ugly---it says so right there on the heading of the journal. I believe it's what you came here for.
I made a wooden sword for Orion, but he was so impatient for it he wouldn't wait for me to paint it. When all else fails, we go back to the toys. Making the toys. Perhaps, deep down, I'm really an elf. That would explain a couple of things.
Here is the painting I was working on in the post last week with Orion. He is not finished with his painting yet, he tells me.
8 comments:
When you dive to the bottom of the pool, and you hold your breath until your vision turns red, and the stars come out, deep in the chlorine-blue... just who is it you resurface for?
I know when I do, it sure as hell isn't for myself.
I tell myself to write, write, write... write yourself happy and alive and you'll be okay. And yet my head still gets fuzzy, and I deprive myself of air and sink lower... and I wonder why the hell I try to go back to any of that at all. It's so tempting to let yourself stay down and drown. To go to sleep instead of fighting for every breath in the too-bright, too light world where the air burns the throat and the world's weight crushes every vertebrae. It is so much easier than it really seems it ought to be to subvert the survival instincts sometimes.
Everything's just blue down there. Blank and monochromatic. And sometimes that's refreshing...
But don't forget to kick your way back up. Push off the bottom, grab for the ladder, don't be afraid to call for the lifeguard. Do what you have too, be unafraid to show how scared you are.
Remember who you are surfacing for.
We'll all see you in the blue.
our own litle toy-making elf?
*hugs for Lisa*
Don't forget we love you!
I like the idea of you as an elf, it suits you.
And only the Victorians were crazy enough to believe (or try to, at any rate,) that fairies were all sweetness and light.
When I get depressed that is when I find it is most important to eat right, to go to ballet class (for the exercise, not the inspiration,) to be with people. Take care of yourself, know that those who read this are thinking of you, and know that it has always gotten better eventually and will do so again.
I would encourage everyone to enlarge "Star Play" to full screen...it's got so much in it that can't really be seen in that small version....
Wonderful picture, Ravyn...Maybe L. can make lots of copies and send them out this year for the holiday season...
Jordan's Mom is right - I'd never have seen the tiny puppets in the small version of the painting. It is a great image.
I really hope you feel better soon, Lisa. You are quite right, things will take an upturn again. I have to remind my (depressive)boyfriend of this fairly often. I don't want to sound like a Pollyanna, but so far I've always been right - although it often feels as though the knowledge that things will get better is not doing a thing to help RIGHT NOW.
I, personally, have a great deal of patience for this sort of thing. And sympathy.
Thanks for posting the picture. It looks so deceptively simple and yet has so much going on. (Thanks K for pointing out the other puppets...I didn't even notice them!)
I love the way the galaxy looks...that corner of the painting has a 'Hitchhiker's' feel to it. I also love how the main puppet is just following his star...seems so intent and focused on it...and doesn't appear to notice anything else, like the fact that he's fragmenting.
There is so much open to interesting interpretation. The puzzle pieces of the universe, the fact that the puppet is following a star that he is holding himself, the pieces of the universe in each piece of the puppet. Its quite amazing, thanks again for posting the finished work.
And I for one appreciate the sharing of the good and the bad. Its nice to know that those I admire have normal up and down times just like me. Its inspiring and comforting at the same time.
And of course I like the orange planets as well.
Post a Comment