4 June, 2024

June is a reflective month for me.  It’s beautiful here in Memphis.  Lush, blooming, the humidity not quite yet a 24 hour condition. 

Also, the start of second half of the year feels a like fresh start, but at what?

I spend a lot of time planning and thinking about what’s coming around the bend, even though I know that if I stay where my feet are as best I can, the future will show up anyway.

When I see what’s happening in the world, though, it’s hard to stay grounded. It’d be easier to crawl up in a ball in despair. I try to not look away, I try to stand firm in my feet and face it. The work helps me to not look away.

On a personal level, I’m trying to reclaim where I put my attention so as to carve out space.  When I put my phone down and make room to read more books, play guitar, stare off into space, get bored, I immediately begin to feel stronger and more able to face the world.

I was talking with some friends this week about how we artists have to shapeshift in order to find the beginnings.  The work is in a constant state of flux and entropy.  To evolve as an artist requires disruption, disorder and destruction.  I don’t need to throw my paintings on a pyre to make it happen, I just need to let the subtle dissonant notes in, allow small choices here and there to take a slightly different tone, to not overthink, to be where my feet are when the world breaks my heart and make something in spite of it.   

This week I wrote. I had conversations. I walked in the park a lot. I moved my body. I watched tv. I made shredded carrot salad twice. I had dreams that helped me figure out a hard situation. I pulled my first Tarot card (holy shit!). I sat in a circle in silence with Quakers. I helped my mother shower and we made each other laugh.  I babysat my friend’s 2 year old and she slept on my chest for two hours. I took a picture of the bottle brush buckeye in my driveway against the sky. I made another copy machine glitch drawing.