I did not need a training bra
my breasts came in
fast & free
of their own volition
Besides
my mother,
possibly hoping they
would go away
a sort of false start,
did not provide one

I chose not to look down
much
by-passing the entire middle region
down to my thin ankles
still in ankle socks
My breasts, I’m reminded now
as I strive to save
the gift of a flowering Orchid,
seemed to need not much
encouragement of any kind
No particular thumb colour
accompanied their burlesque arrival
from childish funny girl
though not ha ha funny,
swept up in needs and wants

unseen &
unrecognized
No - here, try a paint brush
or,
write a story

art bloomed too like a pair of titties
reckless and unsure

I was invisible but for them
bound & ever so slightly determined,
a too young child-woman
fatherless
learned who she was
in the eyes of men,
among the elevator wolves
a barbie stuck
between
the legs
My blue eyes had fallen out
now I only had
a blooming chest
I
smiled sweetly
a good girl
did as I was told
until a while after the breasts showed up

then rebellion found me
embraced me, deflowered my
politeness,
my catatonic benign-ness.
Only I truly had no cause
what? my non-twiggy-ness?
my lack of paint brush
or an original thought
or an idea of my own

I only knew that I had to bust out
Like the breasts
had done

what is more important? input or output.

The journey has lead me to discover 2 new poets, one Canadian male poet, Bruce Taylor, through Michael Lista’s article in The National Post, one American female poet; Sharon Olds, through a friend.  I want to read more of their work, study the cadence & choices they make now that I’ve taken in a little, I want a lot.

Recent documentaries have lead me to discover more Andy Goldsworthy, land-nature-installation artist, and fall in a kind of rapture of his work & approach, & the wonderful doc about him, that in its’ first few minutes moved slowly, church-like & almost had me leave my pew & then in an instant ensnared me in marvel.

And then a documentary about Jenny Holzer whose work I admire & am influenced by. She’s a true ‘techno-textist’! 
More of the more I wish to know.

So as I absorb this newer knowledge, this more, and am so satisfied chewing on it all, the words, the visuals, the thinking & ideas, while continuing to paint, I struggle with the new. Turning my mind to so much input is deeply gratifying & necessary but easy to slip into as opposed to output. Output strengthens the bonds of active presence & replication (as a noun, replying to) & being alive.

This becomes to me a discussion about valuing myself & how I will live in the world. Perhaps the dichotomy is not between input & output but in my desire to instantly be in command of new information...  I’m a loosely made sponge. Lots of water gets in, much water runs through.  New input can be like a slippery bar of soap. But I have noticed this, while those around discuss the GOP candidates or the NDP candidates or the situation in Russia & I admit I can let this information fly like a flock of scattering ducks, above my head only collecting occasional droppings, the sticky things I am deeply interested in often take on the expert V-formation of Canadian Geese and pull in at a run, into the deep recesses of my mind to be looked at later.

And in not-about-art news, but could be & may be...
I wanted to blog about sexism today. This week I had smoke coming out of my ears over a Victoria’s Secret catalogue, misogynistic porn at my door, in my mail box. The models, all white woman, but for one Asian, tall & curvy like her sisters, all with jutting out bottoms, heaving cleavage, curving their backs suggestively, sharp pointy hip bones protruding, all long-wavy hair perpetuating self loathing & over-sexualization = the creepy unsexy, & mindlessness everywhere they go.

And then I wanted to talk about (more fire & brimstone) Toddlers & Tiaras, and  French Senator, Chantelle Joanno, who wants to pass ‘anti-tiara’ legislation, (the TV shows have had versions in France for years) including the inability to sell the wee ‘sexy’ clothing that goes with. She rightly said in a CBC interview this week that the ages between 2 and 10 should be about LEARNING. These are profoundly disturbing and harmful child(girl)-hating events, I believe these parents should be criminally charged...

Then we have approval in Canadian Parliament to do what Harper said he would not do, re-open the question of ‘choice, by letting a man, Tory MP Stephen Woodworth, have his say. Why? Why does he get a pulpit on my tax dollar!!?
Yo! Harper: My Body. My Womb. My Choice.
deja vu all over again

I have learned in the way we do without necessarily setting out to, that being away & change, all have the potential to lend perspective & add fuel to the heart, the mind, the imagination. And being away in the right place is the best away.

Here I sit in my other home, a place I came across about 5 years ago and felt an instant draw towards. Like the chemistry of person to person attraction I felt I had to have more of this place in my life. And I determined to make that happen. And I was privileged to be able to make it happen.

In the mysterious way that things have of aligning, a new friend at the time moved here and we lost touch for about a year, and in my inquiring about her through mutual friends I was gobsmacked to learn that she had ended up here, in Ojai, California.  I am I must admit somewhat reluctant to give the actual place name away. But then realize that at this point with a fairly low but growing blog following, the numbers barely represent a digits-worth on a single hand. And we are each drawn to various away-places for a multitude of reasons. And mine & yours are different.

In any case after making contact, I immediately imposed my 2 sons & one wife of, along with myself on her & hers for a visit, as we had a family wedding to attend near-by, over 2 years ago now. She proved to be the hostess-with-the-mostess and welcomed us like offspring back to the nest. We drove away reluctantly a couple of short days later with our jaws slung low in shocked admiration of her huge hospitality.

And she is as passionate about Ojai as I am! Thus began the more serious seeking out of a return here, at first staying with her a few times.
Until this fall when I found a place of my own to live & work from.
I had been thinking about, in a very loose way, fantasizing mostly, about another place to be, hopefully to eclipse some of the Canadian winter, but not uniquely with that in mind. A place to develop a relationship with, to return to, to work in, gain perspective on my art work & life in general, Toronto at this time where I make art & live.
A place to run away to? that too.

So here I am finally(!) after spending winter in Toronto, ready for first some healing, some revisiting of good habits, yoga, meditation, walking uphill into the glory of layer upon layer of mountains & endless views, after being eaten up in the maelstrom of a grey but admittedly mild winter, prepping for Toronto Artists' Project and other art submissions.
And I am in deep gratitude!!! I do get all Zen-ny out here.

I am interested in what a new space to work in reveals art-wise. I know only that the output will be different. So being here is like a mystery novel. Who am I here? What drew me here? The unknown, the sense of possibility & I love the big bright Cali-sky.

I’m broke and optimistic.
This past weekend was my first step into The Toronto Artists Project where I had a booth. I’ve never participated in this kind of show before. Any group show I have been in was curated, based on a submission. TAP also operates by jury selection. The downside of which is there is ‘stuff’ for all tastes. The upside of which is, there is ‘stuff’ for all tastes.

I will say outright, right now that some people were accepted into this show, who should not have been. They need more time to mature, whatever their age, as artists. Their presence brings down the caliber of the show. They are not good prestige-wise for the show. There. To be clear, this is not in any way to elevate myself. Whether or not I had been a participant, I would have believed this.
It becomes about space filling & money-making for Merchandise Mart, who run the show. Ultimately this lack of a more refined & judicious selection is a potential negative for all participants.

Enough about that. I enjoyed connecting to my fella(ow) booth mates, the close range ones & the ones I met over lunch or while taking a break to walk the halls & stop for a chat in other booths. I embarked on a learning curve with them, about them, through them! Dare I say, a couple of those may even turn into long-term friendships.

I reserve my warmest accolades for the visiting public. Though I’m sure most did not pay me or my booth the time of day. Those who did, uplifted me, either by their questions about technique or motivation; all good, all helping me articulate my practice, express the warmth I was feeling back at them. Talking to people on docent lead tours was challenging in the best of ways & fabulous. These people, in tours or not, came out, paid an entrance fee to come into the show, and some talked to me and looked at my work.  You know who you are, I cannot thank you all enough. Some were deeply interested, many took my card. The future holds the truth. Suffice it to say in the present, I am pleased.

Visual art in this society is a hugely hierarchical structure. Most people probably don’t think of it this way. But to the cognoscenti, rest assured, it is deeply so. So the conundrum is this, without a gallery’s support, how does your work get seen, potentially bought? Sure  being with ‘my’ gallery at the Toronto International Art Fair is where I’d love to be or Miami(!) or... Berlin.

And I wonder if presence at an event such as this past one, can turn into a kind of albeit gentle, trap? Or is it a door to possibility? None of these questions can take my current pleasure away. But now I get to think about them in a different context.

The most basic & important thing is: I love this work. Art work is my passion. All else pales in comparison (ok, there’s the bottom layer which comes from the love of offspring & their partners, & the love of my partner) That love is the scaffolding. But a rickety thing it would be without art. It is who & what I am. I am wholly committed to working, making and thinking in the art-way.

• Blog Home
• Archives
• Subscribe To This Blog

• a story about what?
• Analogue & Notation
• Dancing in The Kitchen
• Collisions on The Information Highway: an art revolution
• Send the Salami
• Poetry Painting from California
• Push This
• I Wonder Bra
• Input-Output - & the 'new' sexism too
• best-away-place

• Painting [8]
• Art Industry [14]
• Day to Day [8]
• General [3]
• The Eggshell Project [1]
• Language(s) [2]
• Regarding Art Theory [1]