I find myself constantly trying to find the time and the space to think. To take a breath and to think. About art- about my art and what I want to create. Sometimes I have the time, but not the space (think waiting for the whatever-is-in-the-oven to be done). Sometimes I have the space, but not the time (the house is empty, but for like 30 minutes). I feel like a total wanna be. It irritates me that I am.
On top of everything, I am also studying programming and trying to find a job in the field. I have been taking classes for the past yearish and feel confident that with a job sufficiently supported, I'll be able to patch together processes and fill in a position. Because I need it bad. First of all, I am in complete love with technology and have developed a passion for the machine that can only match my previous disenchantment with it. Second, I want to work in the real world and make real money so that I contribute to the family and am able to afford my own little studio in Long Island City(Queens) or Bushwick (Brooklyn). Why those neighborhoods and not Soho or Chelsea you might ask. Do I dare dream that high?
In time, only in time. For now my office is the kitchen. Or my bed. Yesterday in between the tasks of cooking, I would fall down to the floor and alternate downward dogs with push-ups. Then I'd get up and do some tendus and attitudes. Michael peeked and raised his eyebrows with curiosity and amusement.
Today after a tedious day of researching how to upgrade my Mac's OS (the poor thing is kind of old), I finally shoved my little family out the door and declared that we are to explore Long Island City. We headed over there and as usual, Avka fell asleep in the car. Which works nicely, because we can then take the time to have one of our nice usual arguments that we always have without our daughter listening to us. Though sometimes I'm worried she somehow hears us even in her sleep. It probably bores her at this point. I never am able to allow myself to argue passionately in front of her because even one glimpse of her absolutely incredible warm sweet smile thaws away any sort of negativity.
We ended up in our favorite LIC coffee shop- Sweet Leaf. A latte and a pleasant conversation with a stranger from Guangdjou, China, put us in the right mood for exploration, so we headed to the brand new waterfront playground and Avka got to play and chase us around and yelp in delight with the magnificent background of the Empire State, the UN and the Chrysler Buildings all lighting up the midtown skyline behind is.
On our way back in the car, after running around in the freezing cold (25F), and with the latte well settled into my neurons, inspiration started to flow freely and I quickly open up my notebook and start writing:
"Make 10 portraits of mothers who share their stories of unglamorous mother moments- cooking, cleaning, laundry, etc... with each photograph accompanied by a short personal story that reflects on the burden and monotony of these chores. Everyone pays so much attention to the cute mommy blogs, to the pretty staged photos of kids eating ice cream while their giddy moms snap away. And that's fine. But what if with the same zealousness, I examine what lies underneath that? Why is housework so unglamorous? Why can't one be famous because they do their laundry? (mine is staring at me unfolded from my armchair right now).
The final product can be a book with the portraits and stories in addition to 10 collages made from the printouts with perhaps fabric or other physical presence attached to them."
I like this idea. I hope I can go beyond planning and get to work and get over the seemingly constant high barriers that stand between me and my work.
From this morning: Heavy snowfall in -6C. We head to the grocery store and on the way back we are lucky to find a parking spot. But Avka does not want to go home. She insists: "Go straight mamiiiii". So I do. We go straight. It's a strange feeling- not having a specific place in mind but listening to the instructions of a 2 and 1/2 year old. "Straight Mami", she continues navigating. We keep going straight, despite the many warnings that the street might soon be hard to get out of because of the quickly piling snow. The back windshield is now covered. We get to the end of the street- to the tiny State Nature Preserve beyond which is the Long Island Sound. We go out and take a walk. Our hands freeze. Avka's little face grimaces in the snow and wind. But she persists. She's a strong one, this one. She walks to the edge and looks out toward the water, where the snowfall looks so quiet and peaceful. Suddenly the phrase, "If God is willing and if I will", comes to my mind out of nowhere. I say it out loud. It makes sense. If God wills and if I will, surely, I can achieve anything I aim to.
No comments:
Post a Comment