itesser ink: progress, uncensored

I spent the first part of the day doing one kind of nothing, and the second part of the day doing another. Both of them online, and both of them totally worth it. Despite not being in a poetry-reading mood earlier today, I am now, after having written the following:

In The Empty Hours

I clutch the stubbornness
inside my chest
heft it in my hands
the immense weight
miracle of density
compacted hopes and
driftless dreams
migrated from imagination
doomed to sink
but stubborn, clinging
to my heart
like stalactites
stabbing as I feel
the edges of my stubbornness
its grooves and tumors
metastasized
to obligations
but also to desires
held in stasis as I
trace and squeeze
and curse and finally
meditate
on my stubbornness.

I really like it. (Stubbornly, perhaps.) Maybe I'll feel the same tomorrow, maybe not!

Today I want to set up a crafter's studio that runs like a gym, except instead of weights and treadmills, you pay membership to use space and sewing machines and paper cutters and printers and printmaking stuff*. Ceramics classes instead of cardio, selling specialty paper instead of specialty powders. And have a library of crafting books and magazines.

Another dream I had today was to spend my free 3 months next year focusing on writing (especially poetry) rather than drawing. One thing that keeps me from it, though, is that my husband doesn't get into poetry as much as I do. I'd rather reunite with him and have something I can show that he'll be as enthusiastic about as I am. Is that strange?

I currently have no plans to abandon poetry, just a firm desire to keep it in the Number-Under-Visual-Art spot. (Prose is under no such restriction.)

Dang. 7am. Spent a couple/few hours pushing pixels around and watching Kojak. Still life painting of some things on my desk, tried out a shading method Reagan works with sometimes.



I realize that the background might not make sense (I didn't do a meticulous job), so here's a cell-pic of the set-up. Bluetooth is a beautiful thing.

*and light boxes. and a photo studio. and a darkroom. and a few computers. and light tables. and drafting tables. and spinning wheels. and sergers. and long-arm staplers.

similar things are being done in other places! They're making it work!
IPRC
esty labs
Radius Studio
Stumptown Art Sudio
... but some are less "open house" than others.

and kilns. and field trips. and dressforms. and copiers. and typewriters. and every tool imaginable. and a kitchen. and KNOWLEDGE. and jars and jars and jars of buttons, beads, and ribbons... i should stop thinking about this...

Labels: digital paint, plans, poem, poetry, still life

When I have my own place, I'm totally going to make myself a bear footstool.

Also, my first (practically) free issue of GOOD Magazine showed up today. I payed cover price a while ago and it didn't live up to my high expectations. Some of the research was shallow and the graphics misleading. But with the pay-what-you-want thing they have going on, you can get a year subscription for a dollar. I got my year subscription for a dollar. If I was flush with cash, I'd give more, but I'm not. I haven't read it yet, though.

I stayed up till 7am (or was it 8?) yesterday, and slept off and on till after 4pm. The block of sleep was interrupted with answering text messages, canceling plans, reading Farenheight 451 and checking headphone reviews for people not-at-computers. One person.

Inconsistent internet service kept my browsing experience from being fluid and transparent (when the tools give you trouble...). Lacking the fortitude to draw without TV in the background (that right there is a dangerous realization), I've spent a lot of today reading and closing the 120+ tabs that I've got open. And writing poetry.

Also related to inconsistent internet service, it gives me pause with the plan to store poetry in GoogleDocs for it's access-anywhere and tagging features. (Inconsistent internet came up in a recent discussion of paperless medical offices, but that's a different issue.) It would be easier for me to give up access-anywhere (and commit to backing up my harddrive) if there was an elegant way to tag files in OS X 10.4. (I realize it's redundant to say X 10, but X.4 doesn't properly convey the situation.) Maybe I should ask for an upgrade to the latest version of my OS for Christmas.

My paper journal is getting distractingly full. The handbound scrap-paper book with a burlap cover and zombie-bandage tie has become so integral to my days and thoughts that it will be difficult to replace. I don't know what I'll do when I'm out of space. Obviously hold onto it and read the full thing once, and bits and pieces from time to time, but I no longer have an epic stash of novelty, scratch, and found papers to build a new journal from. I think I'll do shorter (3 signature) cloth-bound books with interesting fabrics for the (less ghetto) covers until I can collect enough found papers to do another tome.

Thank you for listening, blog.

A poem I wrestled with today. It's another new one. I wrote it long-hand, and the page is a delightful mess of stricken words. The first draft rhymed, then I tried to make it not-rhyme, but couldn't find the rhythm in that version.

From Too Far

Do you see my whole devotion,
long-suffering, and patient care
or do you sense a latent crazy
with desperate and wild stare?

Are you reading it a danger
when I profess my loyalty?
Do you think I paint delusion
over empty, harsh reality?

I thought I found a stable bond
within my constant adoration;
I'm sending you this love, again,
open to interpretation.

I'm excited about tomorrow's poem. I cross my fingers that the enthusiasm will hold out.

Drawing that was wrestled with yesterday:

Labels: excuses, plans, poem, projects, scannies