Showing posts with label In which Poppet puts away her tissue and wears mascara again. Show all posts
Showing posts with label In which Poppet puts away her tissue and wears mascara again. Show all posts

Friday, July 03, 2009

Change comes of its own free will

ok. So now it's Friday.



Thank you to the readers who contributed to yesterday's post. I've considered your comments. At its best, this blog becomes a sort of collaboration, illuminating questions from different angles, allowing us to see more clearly. It can be difficult digging into deeper emotions and fears, yet these issues carry into the creative process, show up in the finished work.

It seems worth the effort to sort these things out. The frankness and eloquence of the comments tells me others think so too.

From them I've gathered the following: (if you haven't, you might want to read the comments---the moments will be well spent and this post will make slightly more sense.)

*Rituals are helpful. They allow us to release emotions, yet moderate them with a time frame.

*The need for these rituals has been recognized throughout history.

*We humans tend to create filters that skew objectivity and sometimes even reason.

*The one-year mourning period is significant for humans. It predates calendars-- it's about the planet we travel on.

*Joy returns on its own. Actually, I like "...it tends to sneak up on you." much better.



****

Today I considered these things while floating in clear water in a blue pool under blue skies in Palm Springs. I made a mental note that my profession often entails floating and thinking. Not everyone would count that as a positive, but on this one I'm with Bugs.
I mentally examined the work I've created this year. Some elements that are new(like very stylized skies) , others moved from background to foreground (crows.) I thought about the works in progress. I see symbolic connections in some places, others won't begin to make sense until much later, with hindsight and context.

They're time travelers, these symbols, messages to ourselves, in bottles or in backs of drawers, the handwriting familiar but the writing forgotten.

I've decided to have some sort of ritual--- I'll think of something---to mark the year's passing.
It will be something simple and quiet and...huh... oddly anticlimatic.

g'night