unsorted wall pieces from now & then
but i’ve been working. a lot. photo/assemblage pieces.
and i’ve been spending. a lot for me – especially since i have no job or work right now.
a color printer – a (daunting) commitment to printing at home.
and i’ve been in pain. a lot.
so surgery on my left hand is scheduled for day after tomorrow.
followed by awkwardness. a lot. 6 weeks of one-handed living.
and i’ve been paying attention. a lot.
and changing. a little.
who knows when or if this place will ever be a vehicle for communication – or even real reflection? I used to think my thinking might be worth sharing. I used to write and craft church services – not because i believed in god but because i believe in liturgy. I liked constructing that experience – that communal consideration of accountability, conscience, action.
I used to be more confident – or at least more eager to perform – but confident of my ability to inspire, or to manipulate and conjure the sensation of being inspired? And is there a difference experientially for the listener?
My work has always felt like a ministry – a place where words can be met as tools of agency… blah blah whatever. Now my own vocabularies – of connection, integrity, fearlessness – ring so hollow in a life that has never internalized them, never lived them in any way authentic enough to endure. I know this does not make me a hypocrite, but rather someone who did not know the difference between articulation and action, between insight and change – someone who did not know herself.
So. Now that I know I do not know, am i allowed to use those texts? Sure – i can use them aspirationally, meditatively – i can engage and the work will be true. That feels great.
But can I preach? Here, I mean. I don’t think so. When you write with a mind toward being read, it’s sposed to be an offering. Coming to wordlessness about myself may be my greatest accomplishment so far. We’ll see if i have anything else to talk about.
Edith has deserved this card for a long while.
Tekst-drivən the facebook assignment
arts&letters - original works of assemblage, collage, mixed media. mostly female texts, including my own.
utterly & not at all charmingly under construction
so each distinct ball of tangled string is a strand in a personal web of sharing & survival - but the chicken-egg queasiness is profound for someone with few friends. what i DO know is that TUMBLER is the place that is most inspiring & sustaining…
so now it’s tumbling onto the site & all the notes & buttons leave a nasty collection of graphic mousepoop at the bottom of every post. arg.
every day full of that sort of distracting question & resulting attempt to learn more about stuff that doesn’t interest me - the antithesis of making & working
an abecedarium of original rhyming couplets for almost every letter.
each spread (2 square pages) has a third segment which folds over and conceals the second panel – as “yes” does here:
First I wrote the text, then collaged all the pages, then lettered the texts.
text is precise, and fixed. images are metaphoric and fluid.
text is about a moment of casting thought into words.
images preserve the story and let the meaning shift.
so the text is circumspect, for the most part : tucked in, standing off to the side, sheer, small. etc – so that usually your experience has some distance from my story until you choose to read it.
(to be very much continued)
our lives are not small. our lives are all we have and death changes everything. the long work of life is learning the love for the story. dorothy allison