The 7 year stretch from 2018 - 2025 was terrible up close, but beautiful from a distance.
This period of my life began with losing my job and ended with going through cancer treatment. In between, I reinvented and transformed most of what I knew about my own views of art, work and probably my overall outlook on life.
There is something that happens when you truly confront losing all you'd been holding onto. I read Pema Chödrön's When Things Fall Apart during this time. There are hard and beautiful truths in her book:
“When we reach our limit… a hardness in us will dissolve." — Pema Chödrön
It’s exactly this dissolve that has been at the core of my practice, as an artist. This year, aside from this book of poems, I also put out a song (So Damn Lucky), and put up an art show of my recent photography (En. Connection Arrives Sideways), which is reflective of the new approach toward my art, and life. Different art forms, but a common theme about luck, chance, fate or whatever you want to call it. In nature, we talk about stochastic design - the intentional inclusion of chance. In Japan, they call it, en - the thread that connects all things, if we are open to it, or set the stage for it. This all intrigues me right now.
Like any artist, my work is informed from my life. For seven years, it felt like what I was dealing with was bad luck, but now from a distance one could easily describe it as good luck, too. New people, new opportunities, new passions - a better life than what I had before, by large degrees. This is what has changed me and why it has been such a central theme of my work. I’m learning to see life less as what I want or hope for and more what it is offering me at any given moment.
What’s interesting to me about this collection of poems over the last 7 years is that they came out like small eruptions. The words entered sideways, too. Not to journal, confess or even define the emotions I was having - as most of my poetry had done in the past - but rather as an outbreak of what was happening in my life. Reading it now, I feel teenager energy. This dissolved state, simply being and saying it. Rock biographer Peter Mills, in his book “Hymns to the Silence - Inside the Words and Music of Van Morrison,” described a line in SWEET THING, where Morrison sings, “Hey, it’s me, I’m dynamite, and I don’t know why!” as lacking cunning or self-consciousness. This is the kind of writing, or art of all kinds, that intrigues me right now. Less about my own taste, or some kind of conclusion and more about the discovery that happens from being open to what comes at any given moment. Less polished, less figured out, but perhaps more raw and, in that way, maybe even more truthful.
[00]7 Years. Good Luck.Seven years bad luck – who came up with that idea?Read →
[01]Job oneThe first thing you want to do is feel fulfilled and poorRead →
[02]The fallIt goes without saying you saw me at my worstRead →
[03]Factory cookiesGreat.Read →
[04]Between worldsMy four year old goes into her room sometimesRead →
[05]The planI don't know what curiosity is versus admiration versus envy anymore.Read →
[06]Distant thunderIn front of me, a study in baroque construction.Read →
[07]Time, LoveTime, Love... Love, TimeRead →
[08]SandTime. An image is time. Sand is time. None of it is time. You were a time. We forget more than we remember and what we remember isn't always in time with what happened. Details are lost.Read →
[09]The divineThe shots (photography) you plan are almost always an addition equation of things you know, a place you know, plus a thing you know, at a time determinedRead →
[10]Steals the heartA pause where we both see each other between worlds.Read →