Da Studio Show
Thanks to everyone who showed up (so far) for my studio show. I count all of these folks as friends as well as supporters. Maybe that’s a necessity in the relationship-the two twined together. I hate the business part of it-the money exchange and all that, but this does help to assure me that I’m on the right track and not lost somewhere in the forest.
Had an intense period of bustle and busy -and then everything dropped off entirely: like the water got shut off, the light switch flipped. Seeing some of the pieces go brought only a slight twinge-I had more remorse in NOT feeling badly about their departure than I did in seeing the back of them. Makes me wonder if others feel this way as people do expect me to say “I’m sorry to see this one or that one go…” In a few cases, however, this is true, but there is much more sadness in seeing certain components go. I can replace the work that I do, but some of the found items are unreplaceable treasures. Much like the dog that I always have believed myself to be, my hunger exists only for the next sculpture. I seem to have no time or energy for sentimentality with my older work. Although I think that this is a good trait which I’ll accept gladly rather than question, it does seem out of character with the rest of me-which , if nothing else, is sentimental to a fault!
Pinched Nerve
I’m a virgin when it comes to pain: this pinched nerve in my back is horrific-in the morning the pain can be so bad as to make me sweat, yet I know that this is only a tiny wedge in the full spectrum of agony. It’s also an inspired kind of torment-any creative twist or turn can lead to a brandy new shooting sparkler of new pain…or to nothing at all. They say to protect your back, but how is this possible when simply lying in bed means ever-increasing bouts of misery? Much like many other illnesses, I find that waking up and getting the body reused to motion is the toughest …either I heighten my threshold of pain with motion or the sharpest of the feelings actually subsides in warming up.
As the doctor pointed out yesterday, I’m holding myself more and more in a closed, crouched (and guarded) position-always expecting a painful spasm. He sez, “STAND UP STRAIGHT!” But how easy will that be? It’s damn hard to reprogram what we do so automatically-very frustrating. What d’ya do when you catch yourself slumping? Smack yourself with a ruler? Not talk to yourself for a couple of hours? Hopefully, as I get older, this here body will not turn into a burden. I have too much that I want to do-remember that artist thing-a blessing and a curse rolled into one.
Thanks to everyone who showed up (so far) for my studio show. I count all of these folks as friends as well as supporters. Maybe that’s a necessity in the relationship-the two twined together. I hate the business part of it-the money exchange and all that, but this does help to assure me that I’m on the right track and not lost somewhere in the forest.
Had an intense period of bustle and busy -and then everything dropped off entirely: like the water got shut off, the light switch flipped. Seeing some of the pieces go brought only a slight twinge-I had more remorse in NOT feeling badly about their departure than I did in seeing the back of them. Makes me wonder if others feel this way as people do expect me to say “I’m sorry to see this one or that one go…” In a few cases, however, this is true, but there is much more sadness in seeing certain components go. I can replace the work that I do, but some of the found items are unreplaceable treasures. Much like the dog that I always have believed myself to be, my hunger exists only for the next sculpture. I seem to have no time or energy for sentimentality with my older work. Although I think that this is a good trait which I’ll accept gladly rather than question, it does seem out of character with the rest of me-which , if nothing else, is sentimental to a fault!
Pinched Nerve
I’m a virgin when it comes to pain: this pinched nerve in my back is horrific-in the morning the pain can be so bad as to make me sweat, yet I know that this is only a tiny wedge in the full spectrum of agony. It’s also an inspired kind of torment-any creative twist or turn can lead to a brandy new shooting sparkler of new pain…or to nothing at all. They say to protect your back, but how is this possible when simply lying in bed means ever-increasing bouts of misery? Much like many other illnesses, I find that waking up and getting the body reused to motion is the toughest …either I heighten my threshold of pain with motion or the sharpest of the feelings actually subsides in warming up.
As the doctor pointed out yesterday, I’m holding myself more and more in a closed, crouched (and guarded) position-always expecting a painful spasm. He sez, “STAND UP STRAIGHT!” But how easy will that be? It’s damn hard to reprogram what we do so automatically-very frustrating. What d’ya do when you catch yourself slumping? Smack yourself with a ruler? Not talk to yourself for a couple of hours? Hopefully, as I get older, this here body will not turn into a burden. I have too much that I want to do-remember that artist thing-a blessing and a curse rolled into one.
An advertising piece from some sort of a snuff product carrying good ole Mr. Punches' endorsement.
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