Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Not a pretty picture

Yesterday I sat down to play with more of my metal images, but after some time this was apparently the best I could do. For some reason both these pictures looked like books to me, so I created a book with the first and then set it on the background of the second.

It looked awfully boring -- though I liked the colors -- so I added the flower to give it some life. And woke up this morning thinking, "well, that one sucked!" and wondering if the exciting ride of the last few weeks, with all its amazing artistic creations, had come to an end; if my creative juices have dried up and I'll never reach my goal of creating 12 of these unusual metal goddesses that have been appearing.

It wasn't until I was sitting in meditation -- well, since it wasn't "a good one" this morning, let's say just sitting and thinking -- that I realized: well, duh! Of course you did a book! Because my husband and I spent the weekend moving books around, lifting, carrying, stacking in boxes, buying and moving a new bookcase -- the last few days have been all about finding space for and accommodating books.

In the end -- and this is the sequel to that fit of anger I had about the boxes in the living room -- the new bookcase went into my office, and filled up with all the books in our bedroom shelves that were mine, thereby leaving room in those shelves for all his latest acquisitions. But I suspect that this image is not just about that, but about the fact that now both of our backs are out.

We cope differently with this problem. But the fact is that both of us have been in pain for the last few days, and though we're not snapping at each other simple tasks like walking the dog and emptying the dishwasher have become more challenging, our energy levels are low, and it's not surprising that creativity suffers as well.

I'm thinking my art was trying to tell me that this whole book thing is, well, not a pretty picture: the pain isn't pretty, the acquisitiveness it symbolizes isn't pretty, our mutual lack of energy makes life flat and frustrating, and the flower is probably there because I'm trying to find a blessing in it all. Because what it feels like is that we're being punished for having the books in the first place.

And now we have to go take down an exhibit -- always a physically demanding activity. I'm skipping pilates class this morning, and just hoping my ibuprofen will kick in before we get to the hospital where the pictures are currently hanging.

Sigh.

Okay, I'll stop whining now.

Really.

3 comments:

Maureen said...

Hope you feel better soon.

We no longer bother with shelves. Our floors have become our shelves. There's just so much to read that's wonderful. I think it's a blessing to want to explore books, to be curious about where we travel when we read, what we can learn, how we can improve.

drw@bainbridge.net said...

... and of course, that was why we had to get the shelves -- because there was no longer room for a path through the piles of books on his side of the bedroom. Is this some sort of Vassar-related addiction? I don't seem to have nearly as bad a case...

Joyce Wycoff said...

Amazing to me that you don't see how stunning this image is ... just look at those colors and how you just get lost going deeper and deeper into it.

Keep looking for those metal goddesses ... I think you're onto something special.