notes from the bottom of the sea…

a friend showed me a video about jim carry talking about painting that inspired me back to making art and i feel like myself again after painting for hours yesterday, morning and all night. how i wish i had a big studio like jim carry and could bathe myself in painting instead of just having one little corner of my studio. but at least i have a corner. his words opened up my heart. i remembered that through painting is how i heal on the deepest level. painting is also my deepest joy. one of them, anyhow. i had a disturbing dream the night before about my parent’s cat getting a sex change and once she became a he, he ignored me completely and it broke my heart. i interpreted it right away. the cat is my instinct and currently i have been trying to follow a more masculine instinct of putting my life and future first, before the instinct that wants to care-take and be right beside my mom and dad as my mom battles cancer, which is my feminine instinct. the torn feeling inside tears me apart into smaller pieces until i just feel like confetti. i knew when i awoke yesterday i needed to paint to get it out. now i am doing it. some trickster figure is birthing itself from me. most of what happens does not happen within the thin veneer of logic and reason and this is why painting the insides illuminates what words could never. trust me on this one, what you think is happening is not the full reality. if we saw the full reality our current reality would come crashing down in an instant. in a way, it feels like sham, our cultural structures. i can get so in touch with the essence of this deeper reality that it can make the surface feel like gossamer. deep sea diving. down down down and back up to the surface again…

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