Can you make sickness a study?
I suffered terribly from Vertigo this past packet. I wondered if I would get anything done. Can you make sickness part of your study? Here are some thoughts.
Recently I had experienced the incredibly annoying and quite scary concept of Vertigo. It is described as “the feeling of motion while one is stationary.” Mine started while I was sleeping and rolled over in bed. I woke up terrified that something was happening and my eyes just kept moving back and forth and back and forth. I wanted to scream, instead… I sat perfectly still and waited. It didn’t pass; it did however lesson. Over the days my movements became slower, as if I was doing some form off ritualistic Tai chi. I bent down with head up and reached for things without looking at them, but that was on good days. On the bad days I stayed absolutely, perfectly still.
I am by nature a multitasker. I do multiple things at the same time and if you get to know me you will realize that… I get a quite a lot accomplished. In the past I have tried to meditate, and I do feel that sometimes there is not just a monkey mind, but there is an entire zoo up in my brain. Still, I have managed to focus on my breathing and the “be here now” sort of sense. I like focusing on my breathing because, I never have done it correctly and sometimes I actually stop breathing. I’m not thinking about it, I just forget. It is when the sigh comes out and my family says, “Stop that.” Then I realize what I was doing. Ok, maybe I have pent up chi or vibrate at a higher level than I would like to think.
The interesting thing is that I have designated four months to something that I am calling self and sacred. Trying to be aware, to create artwork and things that would allow me space to focus on these areas. Ritual you might say, prayer and meditation. I have also allowed myself to experience a strong connection to my ancestors, mostly because I have recently lost my mom and am still trying to figure out my place in the world now that the dynamics of life have shifted. And I am keenly aware of the ripples that we make in life and how they affect each other, even if we do not know it. For example, the other day my daughter and I created a podcast on creativity and jealousy with Doctor Suz. My daughter said that in her childhood when ever she was creative others would simply say, “Of course you are, your mom is an artist.” And this made her feel like she never created anything on her own, it was not hers. She felt robbed by association. I was appalled that this had happened; it has been nearly 20 years ago. I am grateful that it came out, even if it was amongst our listeners on our podcast. I am thankful that she worked with that and could turn it into something positive. She is an incredibly talented artist, photographer and writer; and she has her own artistic vision. This is just an example of the ripples that one life plays on the other.
Why vertigo? In a time when I am seeking balance, when I have wanted to slow down, I have had such a difficult time doing so because of having to be a caregiver to an elderly father-in-law, rushing to hospitals, and emergencies and dialysis, trying to encourage a father who has just lost his wife. And being a wife and learning to be a mom of adult children where I have to keep reminding myself, “STEP AWAY FROM THE GROWN CHILDREN!”
Balance.
In another business endeavor, these last few weeks I had the opportunity to let go of something. Funny I had not realized that I was holding on to it until I made the effort to let it go. I also didn’t realize how much it was zapping me.
So I wonder…Did I not realize that things were spinning? Did my insides have to spin to see this, and even if I am seeing it, what do I do. Sit on the end of my metaphorical bed and go with it and wait.
Wait for children to mature and be safe. Wait for my passing through grief, wait for care giving to turn, once again, into mourning. Wait.
Maybe it is about embracing and appreciating the balance or maybe even the imbalance
Within my study, I have searched for voice that is both artistic and written. I have traveled through different types of writing in search of documentation of lives, and generations and affects that we have one upon the other. I have changed from memoir to third person to an entirely made up girl who is a conglomeration of everyone. It has been freeing; it has been liberating. I feel I have learned to sing a song in another language, and I understand the words and can sing it with passion.
I traveled back and forth from my traditional studio to the digital studio; which was again about balance. First this was prompted by the inability to use my right hand because of injury and then surgery. Within the virtual world, I stumbled and wavered and tried to find my place. I retrained my hands to work with the temporary disability and found that the new virtual world I had explored had many new opportunities to offer me. But interestingly enough, digital art is created in a world where there are no walls, or floors or focus.
I fumbled with fast and gesture, and attempted different things, which would lead to new things and thoughts and connections. The instability of the traditional material forced me in new directions. Coming full circle I realize what I had already known. What fuels me as an artist as a creator is passion and emotion. Perhaps it does all artists, but I’m tied to the interpersonal connection to others through my art. The art that I fumbled with that seemed to have more difficulties with was because that element was missing. And that is why the family altar worked so well. The passion of the piece, the connection to other individuals, the personalness of it was there. That is what I find when I create my traditional portrait posthumous sculpture, when I help others grieve through the loss of a loved one. It is the most honoring thing for me to do for another, and it gives me such great pleasure. I do feel that it is somehow bound up with my creativity, fused there and I’m not sure I can create in any other way. Posthumous sculptures are pieces that are heavy with empathy and the need to give life a meaning. I’m still doing that through this practicum, through this study. I have enjoyed the exploration, but feel it is important to get back to that element.
Even with my struggles of “doing Goldsworthy,” I come round to the essence of my self that has been marked in this sacred space, this pond this yard, this oasis. I come full circle sitting in wicker chairs given to me through the death of friends I find my connections to my canvas, my art, my voice and the sacred.
I shall now take a deep and refreshing breath in and out while sitting in my sacred yard. Focus on my self, my breath, my love for others and this place. Give thanks and mark it with haiku.
Artistic Vertigo
Recently I had experienced the incredibly annoying and quite scary concept of Vertigo. It is described as “the feeling of motion while one is stationary.” Mine started while I was sleeping and rolled over in bed. I woke up terrified that something was happening and my eyes just kept moving back and forth and back and forth. I wanted to scream, instead… I sat perfectly still and waited. It didn’t pass; it did however lesson. Over the days my movements became slower, as if I was doing some form off ritualistic Tai chi. I bent down with head up and reached for things without looking at them, but that was on good days. On the bad days I stayed absolutely, perfectly still.
I am by nature a multitasker. I do multiple things at the same time and if you get to know me you will realize that… I get a quite a lot accomplished. In the past I have tried to meditate, and I do feel that sometimes there is not just a monkey mind, but there is an entire zoo up in my brain. Still, I have managed to focus on my breathing and the “be here now” sort of sense. I like focusing on my breathing because, I never have done it correctly and sometimes I actually stop breathing. I’m not thinking about it, I just forget. It is when the sigh comes out and my family says, “Stop that.” Then I realize what I was doing. Ok, maybe I have pent up chi or vibrate at a higher level than I would like to think.
The interesting thing is that I have designated four months to something that I am calling self and sacred. Trying to be aware, to create artwork and things that would allow me space to focus on these areas. Ritual you might say, prayer and meditation. I have also allowed myself to experience a strong connection to my ancestors, mostly because I have recently lost my mom and am still trying to figure out my place in the world now that the dynamics of life have shifted. And I am keenly aware of the ripples that we make in life and how they affect each other, even if we do not know it. For example, the other day my daughter and I created a podcast on creativity and jealousy with Doctor Suz. My daughter said that in her childhood when ever she was creative others would simply say, “Of course you are, your mom is an artist.” And this made her feel like she never created anything on her own, it was not hers. She felt robbed by association. I was appalled that this had happened; it has been nearly 20 years ago. I am grateful that it came out, even if it was amongst our listeners on our podcast. I am thankful that she worked with that and could turn it into something positive. She is an incredibly talented artist, photographer and writer; and she has her own artistic vision. This is just an example of the ripples that one life plays on the other.
Why vertigo? In a time when I am seeking balance, when I have wanted to slow down, I have had such a difficult time doing so because of having to be a caregiver to an elderly father-in-law, rushing to hospitals, and emergencies and dialysis, trying to encourage a father who has just lost his wife. And being a wife and learning to be a mom of adult children where I have to keep reminding myself, “STEP AWAY FROM THE GROWN CHILDREN!”
Balance.
In another business endeavor, these last few weeks I had the opportunity to let go of something. Funny I had not realized that I was holding on to it until I made the effort to let it go. I also didn’t realize how much it was zapping me.
So I wonder…Did I not realize that things were spinning? Did my insides have to spin to see this, and even if I am seeing it, what do I do. Sit on the end of my metaphorical bed and go with it and wait.
Wait for children to mature and be safe. Wait for my passing through grief, wait for care giving to turn, once again, into mourning. Wait.
Maybe it is about embracing and appreciating the balance or maybe even the imbalance
Within my study, I have searched for voice that is both artistic and written. I have traveled through different types of writing in search of documentation of lives, and generations and affects that we have one upon the other. I have changed from memoir to third person to an entirely made up girl who is a conglomeration of everyone. It has been freeing; it has been liberating. I feel I have learned to sing a song in another language, and I understand the words and can sing it with passion.
I traveled back and forth from my traditional studio to the digital studio; which was again about balance. First this was prompted by the inability to use my right hand because of injury and then surgery. Within the virtual world, I stumbled and wavered and tried to find my place. I retrained my hands to work with the temporary disability and found that the new virtual world I had explored had many new opportunities to offer me. But interestingly enough, digital art is created in a world where there are no walls, or floors or focus.
I fumbled with fast and gesture, and attempted different things, which would lead to new things and thoughts and connections. The instability of the traditional material forced me in new directions. Coming full circle I realize what I had already known. What fuels me as an artist as a creator is passion and emotion. Perhaps it does all artists, but I’m tied to the interpersonal connection to others through my art. The art that I fumbled with that seemed to have more difficulties with was because that element was missing. And that is why the family altar worked so well. The passion of the piece, the connection to other individuals, the personalness of it was there. That is what I find when I create my traditional portrait posthumous sculpture, when I help others grieve through the loss of a loved one. It is the most honoring thing for me to do for another, and it gives me such great pleasure. I do feel that it is somehow bound up with my creativity, fused there and I’m not sure I can create in any other way. Posthumous sculptures are pieces that are heavy with empathy and the need to give life a meaning. I’m still doing that through this practicum, through this study. I have enjoyed the exploration, but feel it is important to get back to that element.
Even with my struggles of “doing Goldsworthy,” I come round to the essence of my self that has been marked in this sacred space, this pond this yard, this oasis. I come full circle sitting in wicker chairs given to me through the death of friends I find my connections to my canvas, my art, my voice and the sacred.
I shall now take a deep and refreshing breath in and out while sitting in my sacred yard. Focus on my self, my breath, my love for others and this place. Give thanks and mark it with haiku.
posted by isculpt at
8:40 PM
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