Thursday, May 8, 2008

Tables Turned

It's hot and I want to be naked.
I'm not naked because I'm not sure who is coming to my house tonight and at what time.
Instead I am clad in t-shirt and jeans, hair - crimped from spending a day in braids - is pulled back into a pony tail. My feet assume their usual position....perched on top of the hard drive as the rest of my body sits on an antique barstool.
There is music playing.
It is storming outside.
I am thinking about many things.
I am thinking about racial politics. Blah. About how I wish to make The Wizard black because when I think of a Wizard I think of power and because I think many black men are stunning, visually, and so strong. But then I think about how many would say The Wizard isn't powerful but rather a con man. And I don't want to be the white woman who makes the con man black.
And I'm thinking about other stuff, like how I need to pee but I'm too comfortable to move.
And I keep licking my fingers to clean them but the 'dirt' is paint and felt-tip and it's not coming off.
That's okay.
I suppose I shouldn't try to lick dirt off anyway.
I'm thinking about how great the air smells right now. It smells like rain.
The thunder is roaring.
My head is hurting.
I'm thinking about how if I could shake the last of this illness, it would be time to dance again.
I'm also thinking about art.
I'm thinking about how I used to 'pretend' to work. How I would spend the day model hunting and making frames. Oh, it was real work alright. But it wasn't hard work. Long, boring, fidgety. But not hard work. So I would procrastinate by making frames and finding models. And I'm thinking about how today I was so upset because I had to make frames and model hunt. And I wanted to work. Really work. You know...paint hard. I'm thinking about how the tables have turned in my art world. In so many ways. And I'm thinking about how frustrating it is to have to stop work to find new inspirations, to build new foundations, when I just want to keep working and working and working.
Like running. You don't put on your shoes and jog a few blocks. You jog a few miles. And then you just want to keep on running.
It's like that now. I want to just keep on running. But I have to stop to tie my shoelaces.
Now I'm thinking about how I don't make sense to you.
And I'm wondering what song I am listening to because it is great.
And my head, it pounds.
And the world, it's roaring.
And I like it that way.
I wonder if I will have to cancel my morning workout if the rain keeps falling.
Oh, this air.
So fresh.
And me.
So tired.
I'm thinking about how I have work to do.
So much work.
And I couldn't find Uncle Henry or Aunty Em.
And I searched for hours.
And hours, I did.
And now I must move on.
Keep moving.
Keep working.
Just in another way.
So I had better go.
Did I mention it is hot?
I want to take my clothes off.
But I don't know who is coming over tonight.
I want to lay naked in the hot air under the cold, cold rain.
I want to catch cool on my tongue.

1 comment:

Hayzie said...

Was the wizard any less a wizard once the curtain was pulled back? Perceptions may have changed, but he did not. Didn't he give the lion his courage, hand out a heart, a brain, and the way home?

If someone visits your studio, are you any less a painter, an artist, because they see how you do it?

The magic is still there.

You paint to share your world with us, and your world is fantastic just as *you* see it, not as propriety dictates it should be.

In my opinion.