BOUQUET

I completed a very difficult task today. Difficult for me, anyway. I’ve been stressing over this for weeks. And I mean weeks.

Yesterday I hit a low point and I lay in the bath paralysed with fear and felt like running away and giving up. Giving up the idea I had. Giving up on bloody everything. With help from a dear friend and my business coach, I saw my fear for what it was. Just fear. Old fear. Old stories. Flight, fight, freeze. A classic pattern I’ve rerun nearly my whole life.

BUT I was able to get over my fear and I bloody well did it. I DID IT. I freaking did it! This thing I did is a milestone for me. Regardless of the outcome. Jesus wept getting over my fear is success already.

In the rush of excitement after completion, I grabbed a bit of charcoal, literally ran into my bedroom and drew on the walls like a child. God, the welcome release. We all it need it, eh. Release.

Plus. Bonus. I’m not gonna get told off for scribbling because I’m my own woman, and I can do what I want.

Jesus I feel good.

I feel good.

I watched Broadchurch last night. One of the characters talked about not letting the people who have hurt you win. Not letting fear win. Not letting darkness win. Today was one of those days where I felt like I freaking triumphed against all that damn bs. I won.

Yeah for sure I’ve won the battle and not necessarily the war but hey all you can ever do is try from one moment to the next. Keep putting one foot in front of the other with clear intention and you get somewhere you wanna be.

Thanks JR.

Thanks, T.

I couldn’t have done this alone.

None of us can, eh.

It’s always love and connection that saves us in the end.

A damn fine morning

Been feeling sick as a dog for two days. Bad headache, shivery then hot.  You know how a bad cold goes. 

Dragged myself out of bed this morning and into my workroom.  I was rewarded by seeing the most beautiful light hitting this artwork. 

Not only that, two lovely women came to pick up the print they’d bought of this artwork.  They’d bought one for their neighbour, too.  J and S brought their neighbour to my place and she had no idea why she was here until I showed her this artwork hanging on the wall and said, this is the gift they’ve bought you.  L was overwhelmed and I got tears in my eyes. 

It was so lovely to witness the friendship between the three women. 

There is NOTHING like the friendship between women.  The strength and comfort and understanding and love and safety within it makes the world feel like such damn fine place. 

Amazingly enough, buoyed by the lovely interaction this morning, I hardly feel sick at all now… although I may be crawling back to bed this afternoon, lol.  

A new perspective

I’ve been doing a helluva lot of thinking lately - thinking about the shape I want to be in now, the shape of my work and life and love. 

You know those times where the possibilities seem endless and you think you could just up and change everything. 

I’ve been frustrated and lonely and wobbly and not feeling strongly my self, and looking everywhere but inside for the solution.  Thinking a new man or a new home or a new studio or a new town might be the solution. 

The last few days  it’s dawned on me that I like my life pretty much as it is here in this beautiful small wee gentle place.  My life is quiet and deeply felt and slowly unfolding at a pace which feels good to me.  I’m grieving and living and loving and laughing.  Sometimes in the dark, sometimes in the light. 

I’m determined to find what’s beautiful in the righthererightnow rather than imagining that perfect life over the rainbow and giving up everything I have built to reach for something that’s not even real.  There is no perfect life.  No greener grass.  You can leave and travel and go somewhere new and have the best new romance, but the thing is you always take your self with you, and all the difficult parts you don’t like eventually show themselves.  Once again. 

Your self is the thing you gotta get square with. 

Forget Everest. Turning and looking inside yourself, prepared to face what you see there, that’s biggest challenge of all.  And where the most wildly freeing change can occur. 

And so, here I am this morning, rearranging my front room, continuing on at my snail’s pace, pushing my work and self forward each and every day.  I didn’t leave town, I didn’t get a big studio or a new home.  Instead I brought an old lightbox I did a few years ago out of storage.  Setup a new table I can draw on, watch the river and the world go by from.  It’s beautiful isn’t it.  And it didn’t cost a cent. 

I’m in exactly the same place but I feel like I’ve moved a thousand miles from the stuckness  I’ve been in for weeks. 

Fuck . Perspective is everything.

http://www.fleurwickes.co.nz/studio-prints-2011-2017/something-beautiful-i-found-it-here-blackboard-2015

IT’S A KIND OF LOVE SONG, 2018 [for you, N]

I completed this painting this morning. 

Well, it’s more of a drawing in paint than a “painting” in the conventional sense of the word. 

Seen in entirety, and in the light of the world rather than a screen, it is delicate and quiet, just like my feelings about this beautiful moment in time are.  It’s taken me two years to make a bit of work that fit the feelings I have for this, that suits the memory. 

The words go like this: 

When we stand

together

your hips

meeting mine

my fingertips gently

in the groove your spine makes

your hands flat

at the small of my back

when we stand up like that

together in the sunshine

it draws everything that’s important

between our two bodies close

it’s a kind of love song.

I’ve used the words “it’s a kind of love song” before.  In an artwork for my mother, as the title of the show I did for her.  In that artwork, the words had so much sadness wrapped up in them, because jesus christ when someone is dying you feel your love for them like a song but equally keenly feel the loss so dark and heavy.

This time, in this artwork, the words are light and gentle because standing in that sunshine with him that particular day was just one of those moments I don’t think I’ll ever forget it was so beautiful.  Thanks, N, for those years we had.  I don’t miss you anymore but damn the memories are good.