We walked back, and Cobi and I talked about maybe checking out the Rouge Cat that night, he'd drive so that I could drink. He went to the studio while I went to the kitchen to make a bowl of cereal. Saw Chris, Carmie and Marisa talking in the courtyard so I decided to join them. We all had a long conversation about all kinds of things, about how people relate, memories, action and reaction, anxieties, responses, etc. It was truly a long and deep and personal conversation. I am having a hard time recalling any specifics because I woke up so early, went to the library and read about 50 pages on contemporary art, and right now, for some reason, my mind is picturing a roller-coaster ride, which has nothing to do with with what we talked or what I read. What I do recall is that, in a very understated (and almost unintended way), Chris expressed his deep care/love for Carmie, which was very sweet - said in a passing, connecting sentence. And I also got an understanding on the peaceful vibe and attraction I get from Marisa - she is a practicing Buddhist or at least has done some extensive reading on the subject, which align really well with some of the readings I did while in therapy. I actually now remember what we began talking about, as I jumped into their already ongoing conversation. We talked about audiences, and success versus satisfaction in a creative practice. It was a great moment of exchange, as we all shared a bit of our own selves, our struggles, insecurities, anxieties, aspirations, and ambitions. I find that these moments, much like the car ride with Aimee, are what these residencies are all about. All the little drama we find ourselves in, specially in this fishbowl environment (and the courtyard sits smack in the middle of the building, with glasses on all sides), are just decoys to why we are really here. They are important points of conflict inasmuch as they bring us all together. At the end of the day, I know that at least what I will take away from this experience are all the little and precious moments I spent with each and every one of them. As such, I am trying to spend some quality time with each person separate from the group, and on Sunday I will go to the movies with Carmie and Chris, something we have not done yet (most of my time is spent with Aimee, Cobi and Ellen).
But I digress. Still, in 2012, people from all walks of life carry on shame, at times a deep shame. I believe there is still a shame associated with wanting success, wanting good things in one's life. I have seen/sense judgmental feelings towards me when people find out certain things about my personal life, and many a times I felt the need to hide from people certain things because of what them and others might think. One thing I like about residencies is that you have such a short time with everyone that there is no need, or it is almost impossible, to create these self-censoring sensorial filters. I just let everything hang lose, out in the open, barren and as real as anything can be. In 2012 I believe there is still a lot of shame in being an artist, and specially a successful one. Many people still carry on that notion that an artist must struggle and that money is not part of the equation. I recalled one particular student who really had some talent, even though she was so shy about it. She was talented and smart, but quiet and somewhat anxious about the whole thing. She once said that she felt she should go to law school to be able to help others instead of "wasting" her time with art (and for once I had a student I thought could make it, but imagine that, an artist with a conscience, hehehe). I remember telling her that we all come into this planet for a reason, we all have our talents and our missions, and that by helping ourselves we really help others, and that one can be an artist and still create a better place. She ended up moving out of state and going to law school after graduating, which I find to be wonderful choices for her (we are somewhat still in touch via FB).
At times I feel like I am judged for having a cleaning lady, for getting spa treatments, for living beyond my means so that I can have nice things, and for wanting even nicer things. But maybe it is because I talk more about this than other aspects of my life that might seem less superficial. At times I believe I am more ashamed of my charitable spirit than my materialistic one. I value money not because of what it is, but what it can help me achieve, be it having a meal with a friend, or traveling to a place I have never been and grow as an artist and a human being. And I am driven by both goals and dreams through my ambition, and I believe that to be healthy. Because I think one can have ambition and still express compassion, sans greed. I was once told, as a teenager, that I could not dream. This is one of the most important rebellious acts I've ever taken as a young person, to make the decision that I will not stop dreaming, that it is my religion, my path. When I dream comes true, it becomes a goal that I reached. During that conversation in the courtyard we all seemed to exists within different places in that spectrum between wanting satisfaction and/or success, charity and ambition, goals and dreams, reality and creation, often times in conflicting juxtapositions. And all of that is okay, a part of the creative and human process, of art and life.
Because I had to pee and eat again and felt like a greaseball (we talked for at least an hour and a half) I decided to leave the group, check on Aimee (Rita was gonna make her lunch) and take a shower. Went to the kitchen and decided to fry me an egg and eat it with bread, since these are free food items here, and compliment it with a salad. Ellen and Rita were eating and I hoped to get my stuff done in time to join them. She read my horoscope outloud and it was so funny, we all made jokes. Even Diane joined in, and I am beginning to get her sense of humor and actually really like her (I never disliked her completely, just feared her initially). Some times it is just a matter of spending time and getting to know one another as human beings (as opposed to people in a given hierarchy) for an affinity begin to grow. Toasted bread, fried egg, chopped cheese and tomato for the salad, and made it into the room. The girls, Rita and Ellen (they r so much fun, sweet and a bit wacky at the same time), were talking about going to the movies later tonight to see an Italian movie called "We have a Pope", meeting at 5:30 in the lobby. I then mentioned the spa trip and somehow the conversation veered on the subjects of bathing suits (I brought three, Rita none, Ellen one I think, and the spa sold them for $3)... My treatments, an 80 minute massage (I really need it, all this cement floor is killing my back) and an 80 minute facial (also in need, have not had one for a few years, looking a bit like a leather purse in the face) will together take almost 3 hours, so I told them we could all go around 1 pm for the communal baths, my stuff starts at 2, and then I could rejoin them around 5 for another hour in the baths (or they could meet me there at some point). I think a lot of people might join us, so we might even need two cars.
Before I knew Rita had already washed my frying pan, she is so awesome, so I hunted for a sponge to wipe the table, then headed for the studio. I bought this medium for silverpoint drawing that I had never used, and after wetting and drying the paper overnight as per recommended instructions, I painted a coat of the medium. This is a slow process, as it will require at least two coats, and each one needs to dry overnight. I decided to skip the sanding and deal with a rougher and uneven surface. I was very disappointed that the medium coated white, and not clear as I had understood from an instructional video online. The paper I use is a natural, off while color, which I really love to juxtapose with white paint, this will not be the case anymore. By the end of the day I had accepted the new color of my paper, at least I still have its edges. This first new drawing, an extra project that may or may not see the light of the day - or become my gift to the institute's collection, is the test drive. If I like the results I still have other 9 pieces of the same paper, and I can totally coat them assembly-line style and fee more productive, while I wait for a photographic documentation of the gallery for the "big piece" (as I am calling the main project I am working on here, it is sort of becoming this huge monster of fear for me), and decide on its final configuration. A part of me feels I should just go with the original plan of action, as it is more doable. another part of me thinks I should try something new (though it may require that I spend close to one grand in equipment I may never use again). I will decide sometime next week. In the meantime I work on two parallel projects, the square black paintings (applied a second coat yesterday) and the new silverpoint drawings.
Throughout the day I tried calling my parents at home, and no success. I sporadically checked on Aimee, but around lunch time (one-ish) we was taken by Diane to an Urgent Care clinic, just to make sure her foot was not broken and how to properly treat it from here on. My back was killing me so I went to my room to lay down for a bit, try to make phone calls and check on email. I also reformatted an image file and sent it to the gallery director, and that new piece, "silver code: AG 47" will be used for upcoming publicity. Soon I heard Aimee in the hallway (it was about 4:45, not so soon actually) and she had a foot wrap on and a smile on her face - it was not broken and she'd go with us to the movies.
I offered to drive, and at 5:30 Ellen, Rita, Chris, and Carmie showed up and walked towards the movie, while Aimee and I went by car. We all wore long sleeve and shoes, thinking the movie theater would be cold. It was a small but nice operation within the campus, and as artists in residency we had our names on a list and only paid $5 to watch it. The guy at the ticket/concession stand was extremely nice and friendly, and he ended up being the person introducing the movie (many locals showed up too, to our surprise, most looked to be retirees, and a few young student types showed up late as well). The guy at the front of the house turned out to be a professor at the college, someone who taught film, and he gave this long winded introduction to the movie and actually revealed a small portion of the plot. I do not remember exactly what he was talking about, because after a while we tuned him out. Aimee, Rita and I sat by the edge of the theater so Aimee could be by the aisle and stretch her leg, Ellen, Chris and Carmie sat in the middle of the same row. The three of us complained about the heat in whispers, removed our long sleeves, and Aimee and I went to town on a double-chocolate cookie (we shared, only 230 calories per serving - 2 servings - low fat and zero cholesterol, I think), and some local red kernel popcorn that was delish. The guy finished his spiel (he was actually a very likable person) and the movie started. It was great sitting next to Rita, as she has this awesome laughter, which was a great addition to the soundtrack. It was also great to watch a movie where the majority of the cast was easily in their 70s, and mostly male. I immediately thought about my father and developed a caring love for the main character, so complex and sweet and battled. I thought it was a great movie, beautifully shot (gave me a great sense of contemporary Rome), if it is near you, go take a look at Nanni Moretti's "Habemus Papam/We have a Pope" (2011), I tweeted a link to the trailer. I was once again amazed on how similar Italian is to Portuguese, at some points I could skip over the subtitles altogether.
It was till relatively early when we got back, but too late for me to call home, so I texted my sister to see if she had talked to them. I spent the rest of the night in my room, I even ate there, doing stuff in the computer and making sense of the entire day. At one point in the courtyard conversation I saw myself sitting down on a chair in a pose I saw my father a million times over in my lifetime - propped against one elbow, with hands intertwined over the stomach, attentively looking at something or someone. When I was younger I used to cross my arms over my belly because I wanted to hide it, and my father always told me to undo that because it was "ugly" (even though he did it all the time), which consequently imprinted in my mind that I was ugly. Later in life, in my early twenties when I was ultra skinny and had no belly (though I still felt ugly), a woman that supervised me at an English language school I taught in Brazil, named Andrea (a coincidence I just realized), made a comment that I always had my arms and legs crossed, that I was either very repressed or closed or ashamed of something. At that time all of it were true, but I was also always very cold, everywhere (those were the initial signs of a chronic health problem that would take me over a decade to get diagnosed and still today am in the process of treating it properly).
Around that same time I began to develop this intense fear of becoming my father, or at least being like him, which I imagine is something common at that age (22-24). At the same time I was beginning to understand many things that I was told and taught by him (this increased in my late 20s), and eventually began seeing my father as a human being (and not just a blood relative existing to oppress me), who had tons of experience, was right many times in the past, and that I could learn from. In my early thirties I began to really enjoy his company, even if afar. Arguments over the phone were almost non-existent, but that really started to change. And now I feel once again that I may be turning into my father, every time I get disoriented, forget where I am or whom I am talking to or what I am talking about, or drink too much at a party. But I no longer feel fear or shame. Sadness at time, oe even anger, but I am beginning to accept things for what they are as they unfold. When I realized I was sitting just like my father in the courtyard, a bitter-sweet smile formed inside of me, and I tried to embrace it, to hold it to a dear place. That is just the way life goes sometimes, we make some decisions, and some decisions are made for or given to us. We can only choose how we react.
And in case you are reading this, Rita, the horoscope did not come true, but only because I chose it not to ;-)
- posted via iPad
Location:Santa Fe, NM
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