Back to the colour zone

Updated: May 21, 2019

Sometimes, having a good break is a good as a rest, especially in making art

I was considering a complete year's sabbatical (last winter), after my 'Anus Horiblis' 2018

After the last Winter Show at Redleaf Gallery, Nov 2018...

....Ta dah

My need to paint overtook my need to rest. Nothing new.

Having had time out to reboot, recharge, reset...however you want to call a great big chunk of T.O. I went to see what I had been incubating or, gestating (in terms of creative ideas/development)

It started with the black. The end of last summer, when I had to get work done for the Christmas show, it was not long after my mother's passing and I was very broken.

I had no strength and I had to get medical help, again. Outcome good. Stabilizers.

I could only paint in monochrome, my frames were black (not white) and I wore black for a very long time, not out of a conditioning, but because this was the only (non) colour that I could 'see'.

I have read that black is a protective colour, and this is probably what I needed to wear. Protect myself from breaking into 1,000 shards. At least this is how I felt.

I shattered, eventually. I was fortunate to have my doctor, my community, my close friends and my family - including my therapeutic furry ones (an incredible comfort)....

...and G-d...(I use this term generically to cover the multitude of 'labels' used to describe a higher power/energy) The Universe/G-d has your back, always

..and the planet...the earth was still beneath my feet, or back.. it stayed spinning.. while I was inert

I spent a lot of time in darkness, nursing the pain of bereavement and accepting that it was a difficult emotional journey, that I was fragile as a bomb, and exhausted as a marathon runner

I doubted that I would recover, ever

The truth is, that you don't. You just learn to manage the grief. That is all there is to do.

I became used to long evenings - doing nothing but crying, and replaying the horrific reality - the degeneration of a slow-burn death that is cancer-close-up-and-personal

I listened to CP 'Parachutes', more times than I think is sanely possible. The melancholia was comforting, the poetry of the lyrics resonated and the Hz, most likely is 963 or 528, healing angelic At least I found it to be healing

I listened to the track 'Yellow', over and over and over and over until I could hear it without dissolving (that was my song for Mummy as she decayed to yellow skin and bones in her last couple of weeks), until I could sing to it

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yKNxeF4KMsY

I spent many hours of each week lying on the floor with my pooch dissolving into, what seemed like' an abyss of shards of myself and the tears that I could not cry during the nursing period of my mother's end of life

At this point in her life, I remained happy and cheerful, or neutral. It was not the time to cry

I began to endeavour to 'enjoy grief', to make something out of it other than pure pain (a paradox)

I'm no good at being miserable, sad or upset as it is not a 'state' that goes along with my nature - which is not very miserable. My depressed aspect of bi-polar disorder is not miserable it is a depressed state (less than happy and not entirely positive)

So, eventually, I started to make fun and laughter out of my pain and enjoy the insular state of mourning

When you are this close to the actual deterioration of the person who ultimately gave you life, it is a lot to stomach. All you can do is everything that you can do. To make it a little bit more palatable, a little bit nicer, a little bit less harsh, a little bit more beautiful, a little less painful

Pain has been deeply etched onto my soul

Laughter is engraved on my face

Sadness is that veil behind my eyes

Horror is a movie that wakes me from my sleep

Flowers bloom through the cracks in my heart

That's about the best way of precis-ing it

I dressed up, I showed up

My body, like a carcass

That forced itself from it's grave

Bone by bone

To die another day

Having had time out to reboot, recharge, reset...however you want to call 'a great big chunk of T.O'....I went to see what I had been incubating or, gestating (in terms of creative development)

When I was ultimately frustrated enough, from time out, I painted my canvases black as a starting point - or even an end point. If they were to stay black, just black that would have to be the case.

I persevered. I changed every colour in my palette, apart from white and black (which are not essentially colours)

I chose metallics and mats, turquoise, pink, purple, gold, green and gold leaf based on an impulse purchase - a craft/art shop sweep!

Very slowly I started again. Squares on squares. Simple, yet complex in a jigsaw-like way.

I'm pleased to be, at the very least, enjoying the new work. How it turns out...is immaterial.

I'm going to post the work in progress. It is helpful for me to see what direction I might be going in with them and how they are working out. It is helpful for me to see my own production

I have eight on the go, my standard average starting point

Poco a poco

Photos are a bit blurry...so am I...that 20/20 vision, was a long time ago