Ten years ago, truth tumbled out and life changed.
"Everyone forgets that Icarus also flew.
It's the same when love comes to an end,
or the marriage fails and people say
they knew it was a mistake, that everybody
said it would never work. That she was
old enough to know better. But anything
worth doing is worth doing badly."
I have held in my heart images and stories that have gone untold. Admittedly I have been engaged in creating and opening doors and all of that has been a gift — an awesome opportunity to create beauty where paint can't permeate and in forms that extend past pigment and cloth.
However images and stories have a way of nagging,
and of demanding to be told.
So tonight two stories break bonds. They stretched and yawned and tore through the binds that held my hands. Like tiny fledglings they perch on the edge of the nest, they are testing the air, their wings, and their hearts.
Accompanied by Laurie Anderson's "Strange Angels",
Iris Dement's "My Life" http://www.irisdement.com/biography.html and
"Failing and Flying" by Jack Gilbert (quoted above),
I am held aloft by thoughts of my creative sisters Theresa and Mary,
my courageous brother and sister-in-law, Daniel and Joanne,
twenty years of my life,
and my wondrous romps through the woods — patient puppies leading the way...
... I take a level draw some lines, hammer in some nails, adjust. Paint is mixed, two whites and a palette of cool and warm upon an old glass window. Items collected from the Vermont woods are set and lit. A pencil draws a line, turpentine is mixed into pigment. A wide brush strokes the canvas, is wiped clean, and returns. The story tumbles forth.
A silent breath. Check back to witness the unfolding.