'The Luxury of Self-Examination'

I am on a lonely road and I am travelling,

travelling, 

travelling

-Joni Mitchell

A Great Canadian Adventure has begun.

From New York to Canadia's capital, Ottawa, this past March 26... we celebrated Alice's birthday. For those that read this, that don't know, though most of you know me or have seen my facebook littered with pictures of a blond girl that looks like my sister... she is one of the greatest platonic loves of my life. Everything I make generally in some way or another goes past her.  Everything I do generally gets told to her or is with her, and what is separate still holds a link of togetherness and love that  surprises, delights, frustrates and ignites me. She's a rock of inspiration. Woody to my Buzz (that's a Toy Story reference)

Now she's back in New York working on her genius, and I'm hanging with my superstar aunt. I'm off to Regina, Saskatchewan on April 1. That's a 3 hour drive from where Joni Mitchell was born. 

I'm presenting a small collection on April 16, as one of the designers featured in The Power of Pink. This is an amazing event, a bi-annual fundraiser for breast cancer. It is it's 10th anniversary and 5th show. I have been apart of 3 of them. The first one I was in grade 12 at LeBoldus High school. That means I've been out of high school for 10 years. 

At 28, feeling every discombobulation of a Saturn Return, I feel one part very old and one part like I'm still 13 in a slightly oversized coat that I'm waiting to grow into. That's part of why I do so many self portraits, or draw parts of myself. I've always found bodies, people, figures so much more interesting than plants or inanimate objects (not saying plants don't have life-they do) but I'm interested in the figure. I'm interested in the way I draw myself and other people. I like drawing all the lines and seeing how they are pronounced, how I perceive myself, how I perceive people- it's a physical experience of understanding how I feel in a time. It's also a practice of my craft that is basic and important. If it's been a while since drawing something, or I feel the pressure to suddenly draw a masterpiece (which usually ensures I will produce something really shitty) I go back to grade 9 art class, and a contour drawing of my hand.

Read, write, draw. 

Back to basics.

Back to my first real show, 10 years later.

Back home. 

Saturn returns.

I am so excited to show you the things that are being worked on. There's a few other projects to promote along the way. 

After Regina, I hit up Toronto May 3-5, and then back to the Apple.

A big part of this journey, this adventure, like any return, my own personal retrograde, is heal up. Not to imply I am wounded, but rather get brave. Get strong. Our physical selves change as we change and  though you may not see it the way you see a wrinkle, or the growth spurt of a child, there's always something going on and our bodies and hearts need attention... and it's easy to forget or let an aspect slip when your 'run' is to the next train. You need to work as much as you need to play. And you need to rest as much as you need to get excited. 

I'm re-reading The War of Art by Steven Pressfield. It's his quote that is the title of this blog. And while I quoted Joni's All I Want at the top, and loneliness is my love/hate friend, I am aware that I am not on this road alone. I am on my own path, but I am not alone. I have great friends and family on my side, and you're part of that in simply reading this. Art, fashion, the process of self-examination, expression, documentation is only possible when we are not hunting for food or building our shelters. Isabel Marant said very poignantly in a New York Mag interview, 'I have to live with myself.' I am an artist. I am not a hunter. My contribution to the tribe is my work, and I hope it provides thought and understanding and expression to and of the self. So feel good. Contribute. Know your power and use it with love.

Pencil with coffee on the stairs 9x12"

Heart In Hand

Many lessons of the how the human heart works this week. 
Well, more accurately would be what the human mind does when the heart is activated differently and waking up to the bat-shit crazy things we do around it.

In the brilliant show, Married With Children, Peg and Al get into a disagreement around shaving, so she withholds sex until he will shave. She explains to the neighbor, Marcy (also going through this problem) that 'when a man gets aroused, all the blood from the brain rushes down. Now the brain wants that blood back, and it will do anything it can to get it.'

Now, in this tinder age, of scruff boys grindring, we flip through profiles after profiles reading a person's basic descriptions or viewing a cropped pic, a mere glimpse of an identity, which may or may not be real. It's a practice, habit, or past-time, in many ways convenient, but also unnatural. The biggest downside, besides the auto-judge, is we become disposable.

I am not disposable.
You are not disposable.

Behind that screenshot selfi profile is a person, with a family, a job, dreams- well hopefully he or she has these things. I do. But for whatever personal physical interest, sometimes a connection is made, sometimes not. But when a connection is made- what do you do?

You want to be cool, have end-game, be interested, but not too much, get mysterious, be unavailable. So many people have such low-self-esteems that if you're too nice, they're gonna leave you and go after that asshole that never calls them back. Then they become the asshole that doesn't call you back and you're trying to become more available, and ignoring someone nice that's vying for your attention. Do you see the pattern?

The chase is exciting, dramatic, like a work-out for the ego, to get buffed, bruised, and then come back up again. But this cycle really only involves the chase. How do you play it cool, not put on any pressure to the person, the situation, but say what you want? Be guarded, but open? Protect yourself but actually let someone in?

The chase is exciting, and fun, and sometimes you want to just be a free spirit slut and be sexual or play with it however you want. There's a power in that which should not be looked down upon- it should be allowed- it should be respected even. But if something is real, that should be respected, and enjoyed, and pushed forward, even if slowly.

I know I want to be wanted. I want to be someone's first choice. I want that person to be my first choice. Of course, you don't always want equally at the same time, and sometimes you go back to the chase to see if it really even is what you want, these points of comparison, which really are just distractions and ways of avoiding getting what you want for feelings of unworthiness. Or, I set up situations in which I am waiting, testing how much I am wanted. 'Just hit me up after work, after your movie, after your dinner.' Fuck that. Invite me to dinner, or the movie. or whatever. These tests though, they set up for failure, anxiety bubbles up in the waiting, making hurt inevitable. Suddenly there is so much pressure on if he will call you back or not. I am facing my trust issues. Ultimatums always equal an ending. 

There is also a huge discrepancy between the intentions and expectations of each person. We don't ever know what is really going on for the other person. He wants fun and I want love. That shit don't add up. That difference will be noted and felt. What do you want to do about it? 

The Captive

The hardest step is the one forward.
Remove the idea of right/wrong- but rather forward/backward.

One step familiar, a road seen, expectations known.

One step not just unknown, but overwhelming, and it's not a dark road, but quite bright- so bright it's blinding and that's what you can't see. We get so used to it the circumstances- the situations, even if we don't like them, their familiarity is comforting. 

Familiarity is not family. Family loves you, protects you, pushes you, wants you, needs you, expects things from you. Familiarity is merely an objective sensation of your habits that becomes comfortable and safe. Even if you're constantly uncomfortable- your discomfort is safe and therefore comforting.

The bed, as comfortable as it may be, the weight of the duvet holds me like chains. Every item on the web of my to-do lists in their colors and bubbles and arrows work like stones hitting my head, knocking me down onto a pillow and keeping me there until so many hours have gone by, that the day only holds a sense of hopelessness and delirium. What was it worth? What did you get done?

The measure of one person's day who might wake up early, go to the gym, go to work, eat three meals, enjoy a film at night; or one who sleeps in, berates himself, and then lifts his pen. As long as the pen gets lifted. It's impossible to measure these scenarios. One is not incapable of the other. The work of both has the capacity to be equally shitty and equally brilliant. Sometimes the accomplishment necessary is not the work- sometimes it is just to get out of the bed, or get the groceries. Maybe all we need is a walk, with grass and trees. Measure the beauty of our existence.

The beauty of a tree, the design of the bark, the vein of the leaves. The beauty of a condo, matching windows, glass into the sky, people inhabiting them, entitled to their property. 

Measure forward and backward. How to get to where and what you want. Without judgement, on yourself or anyone, take the step.