I thought it might be fitting to do a photomontage of strange things I've found staring at me...
from the bath tub! As I make my way in to have my morning shower, every part of my body protests, reminding me how deliciously warm and comfortable my bed is. Groggy and tired, I am an unsuspecting victim. All looks normal, right?
Wrong! A lethal, terrifyingly powerful super soaker peers at me menacingly from inside the tub, planning its next move. Feast your eyes upon sweet super soaker number 1...
...not to be outdone by sweet super soaker number two, which came the next morning...
... and definitely no match for the muppet theme song singing piano.
Ah, yes. My mornings would no longer be complete without some absolutely ridiculous toy leering at me from the bottom of the bathtub, waking me up from the habitual drudgeries of everyday life. I am being reacquainted with that innocent, vulnerable part of myself that is not brought out when going through the motions of being alive, but when I am pushed from what is comfortable and forced to adapt into a place that is not.
This weekend I was in studio on Saturday, and for the first time I actually knew the direction I wanted to take, as opposed to sitting there for five hours while nothing comes to mind... which is what usually ends up happening.
Actually, thats kind of a lie... that wasn't the first time. One of the most recent I can remember was in Jana's class last Tuesday, our first full day. Try as I might, for some reason I could not stop painting bows. Really bad ones too; disproportional, atrocious perspective, hardly recognizable, yet slightly suggestive of bows. But I don't know... that image really resonated with me, as I open up and explore my childhood, my naivety, my anxieties, and trying to figure out what it means to be young, trying to find my place in this nonsense. The beauty and chaos of those things have spoken to me as areas of extreme importance. They have pushed me to open up with my art, encouraging me to share those vulnerable and difficult parts to share.
But then I remind myself that I am a fool to think I am alone. I am not narcissistic enough to think I am the only human being in the whole world who has ever felt displaced and lonely, insecure and forgotten, confused and overwhelmed. The more I let my mind wander in that direction, the more I realize that's probably why I just could not get rid of that stupid bow. The more I push away and hide the dangerous things that need to be talked about in my art, the more I try to protect what is inside, the more fights to come out.
I just wish something like that had happened sooner.
