Tuesday, January 15, 2013

The uncontrollable nature of grief and forgiveness (or lack there of)
plus source writings

Art League Houston

Exhibition January 18-March 8, 2013
Artist Talk 6:30 pm

Kathryn Kelley

Installation title
The uncontrollable nature of grief and forgiveness (or lack there of)

Two primary portions of the installation

I dissolve my fabricated seatings
deconstructed domestic thresholds [doors]. 2013.

The barren plains of back turned could have beens [monsters in the attic]
Remnant rubber, baling wire, deconstructed domestic thresholds [doors]. 2012-13


it whispers my name

as the ache
swells in me
there is a splintering
at the horizon of today
fragments of yesterday
and tomorrow

and i listen at this abyss
as the beyond beckons me
with its urgency and passion

i open my splintered self to it
and it whispers
my name

naming me with its soul quieting sounds of stillness

faintly the remembered wind whispers
naming me with its soul quieting
sounds of stillness
it gently touches flutteringly with its caress
across my dried salt streaked cheeks and
as i allow it, the space opens to me

even from yesterday and before tomorrow
lips blow breath far into my future
carrying me from the weight of another
wound filled thought
whispering comfort to me even now
lifting from me my mountain, my seas
as i sit still in this weightless moment
with tendrilled strands gently
stirring the surface of my face
my fingers hushed and dirty with making
i carry the wind this autumn day

I dissolve my fabricated seatings

I have this table
bare laid built of soul
one where I repeatedly
in my recesses
draw those I love

I have them here
against their spoken wills
as I awaken I latch on to their stay
naked in heart speaking pleading
I hear my own whines

they pushed back a bit ago
not righting their chairs
nor to draw up again
yet their memory flattened
I strap upon these seatings not their own

this morning with usual effort
i dissolve these fabricated chair seatings
with straps of intimate mind musings

i set afresh the table
spilling it with sun risen scents
of just turned soils
i glide my hands
furrowing rich long runners
where water from spilled crystal
seeps still and the sun's glance
splinters gracefully

i flare my nostrils
with the fertile ripeness
await in acceptance of unacceptance
listening even now again
for the ever drifting scents
of the emergent

i dissolve these fabricated chair seatings
with my hands deep amid turned soil

will i continue to prepare my internal ground
for the day I leap, fall or trip over
the edge of my unreadiness.

counter to much of my research into both mainline faith and non-faith based psychobabble and spirituality, i simply believe that forgiveness, giving and receiving, is simply not solely an internal work within the self for the benefit of...the self.

a reduction of hostility is not forgiveness; it is simply an abatement of hostility within…the self.

tolerance is not forgiveness; it is simply the edge of the abyss of hatred.
whether falling into or climbing out of, tolerance is simply a standing at the edge of an emotional abyss within...the self.

a mental no longer holding against is not forgiveness; it is simply a letting go within...the self.

no longer needing to proclaim the other’s offense is not forgiveness; it is simply a subsiding in the need to profess one's deep woundedness. it is a slow settling within…the self.

an internal empathy, an understanding, of/for another's real or perceived offense is not forgiveness;
it is simply an internal expansion of compassion within...the self.

the diminishing of vivid emotions is not forgiveness; it is simply a waning of memory, and/or a waning of negative energy within...the self.

moving on in one's life is not forgiveness; it is simply moving on for...the self.

to stop punishing another or one’s self is not forgiveness; it is simply an abatement in the pursuit of the punitive.

silence is not forgiveness; it is simply withheld words.

the passage of time is not forgiveness (and does not heal); it is simply the ticking clock in which memory fades within... the self.

words are not forgiveness; they are simply empty vessels, symbols, vehicles to potentially carry amazing, mundane, or hurtful meaning.

many of these things are good and necessary. in them is the preparation of the ground within, yes, the self. from this ground is the place in which forgiveness to be given, to be received, may spring.

forgiveness is not just an ego-centrical work, it is far more, far harder, far more powerful, far scarier.

it would be nice to believe that forgiveness is simply an internal work--that is safe, it is easier to hold onto than the truly frightening work of forgiveness. faith based and non-faith based psycho/spiritual babble would like to tickle my ears with forgiveness as purely an internal work, a work of self improvement, self health, spiritual obedience. that is incomplete and rings with the sounds of hollow clanging cymbals.

i realize there are some exceptions. there are truly some people who forgiveness may only play out internally and it is a hard, powerful work in its own unique way. as much as many of us would like to believe because of our enormous hurt and fear that we are in the realm of the exception, that forgiveness can only be an internal work, it simply is not true.

forgiveness is very hard work. it is hugely risky for its pursuit and outcome can not be predicted. it is actually quite uncommon. i like to believe we are a forgiving people, but most things i/we claim as forgiveness are simply the forerunner, necessary but incomplete in and of themselves. most of stop with one or more of these internal forerunners because it is socially acceptable. others pat you or i on the back for being such a tolerant, forgiving person. we’ll feel like we are a little better for and we'll walk away. yet if we are honest with ourselves, we know we have begun the work it hangs half finished. we know.

when i am old, i will regret the incompleteness, the loss of opportunity, the absence of things that may have played out differently if i'd found my way to walk more fully into forgiveness. yet with that age, I will be merciful with and forgive myself for the incapacities and lack of courage in my woundings. i will be kind with my regrets. perhaps if the other still lives, we will find the courage to workout forgiveness.

forgiveness is a terribly uneasy work. it is scary. it is risky. it alters the path of those involved. it changes the future. it softens the blows of memory.

what will forgiveness really bring? i do not know for it is not to be controlled or predicted. it cannot be manipulated. i can hope for goodness it might bring; but it may not bring goodness? will the process of forgiveness heal or rip open? bring peace or conflict? subside pain or increase? calm or expand anxiety? alter future courses or hold steady? ease memory or harden it? change relationships or lock them down? build something new or replicate the old? sever or create bridges? open me to compassion or close me in? mercy or coldness? love or tolerance? will it move me out of our self or into? will it create humility or pride filled? open or defensive? strip falseness away or create more? expose a more whole truth or diminish it? will it create hope or dash it? will it open eyes or close them? will it give, take away or both? will it move me closer to the divine or distance us? will i only be more frightened or brave? more at risk or safer? more codependent or interdependent? more doormatish or welcoming?

what does forgiveness bring? anything? nothing? likely the unknown? is it worth the uneasy internal preparation of our ground of being or not? is it worth following through or not? is the risk worth taking or not? what might forgiveness bring? i do not know for it’s outcome cannot be controlled, managed, predicted or manipulated.

am i doing the work to prepare my internal ground? will i ever be ready enough? probably not. as with most things in my life worth doing, i am never ready enough, smart enough, knowledgeable enough, wise enough, undefensive enough, open enough, loving enough, compassionate enough, healed enough, humble enough, stable enough, silent enough, clearly spoken enough, know myself enough or the other. i am never enough. they will never be enough. i am never ready, i simply leap or have tried and sometimes i don’t even leap. sometimes i get knocked or trip over the edge of my unreadiness. it scares the hell out of me. it scares the hell out of me that i might leap, fall, trip before i am enough, before they are enough. i know when i start to land, i will be glad i got knocked, tripped or lept over the edge of my unreadiness.

i will continue to prepare my internal ground for the day i leap, fall or trip over the edge of my unreadiness? or someone leaps, falls or trips into my unreadiness. yes, preparing my ground is what i think i am and should be doing. it will not be enough, it never will be, but it is all i can do. and forgiveness has never been about being enough; no one is ever enough to forgive or be forgiven.

focus. j-o-b. focus.

i dislike when i make my job first;
it is that time of year though;
i need to make it first;

i dislike that i allow myself to revolve around my job.
i do love my students;
i do thrive in what i can give;
i am good at what i have to offer.

i just don't like that i allow itto determine such a degree of my well being.
i suppose it is the nature of survival.
focus, ryn, focus. do your job.

on a separate note to help me actually not focus but step in to a part of future dream casting, i start in a writing workshop tomorrow night. a part of me says stupid because it is a school night and i am not a night person; another part of me says it is one way to not revolve my world around my j-o-b and to try to step into one of the things god may be calling me to.i think the hard thing about dream casting into the future is that i get my hopes up; i don't know how to cast without a hopefulness; i don't know how to be open, without risk. I hurt me when I make poor decisions that spring from an odd association of risk, trying and openness. sometimes i do the exact opposite of what i should when I am trying too hard. i really don't like being afraid; yet, it is unavoidable.

Monday, January 14, 2013

almost ready

Art League Houston
the uncontrollable nature of grief and forgiveness (or lack there of)
Opening Jan 18 from 6 - 11 pm
Artist talk 6:30 pm

Thursday, January 10, 2013

rebar suspended from ceiling

to guide suspension of table. yay. for art league Houston exhibition, the uncontrollable nature of grief and forgiveness (or lack there if), opening January 18, 6-11 pm. artist talk @ 6:30.

Tuesday, January 08, 2013

art league houston install process--trailer load two--2 hour load; 2 hour drive; 2 hour unload

done for the day; spent. tomorrow: bend rebar and mount to ceiling, suspend table components from rebar; yay, dinner with my grand girlfriend. Thursday: suspend/drape rubber over wooden A like structures. Friday morning: finish up. :)

16x9' trailer loaded

commence unloading


perhaps it is enough. bahahaaa. ok. well I always worry about it and end up making more than is needed :)

opening jan 18 @ 6 pm
artist talk 6:30
art league Houston
show runs through early march.

Monday, January 07, 2013

wood unloaded; tubes and rebar tomorrow

unloaded but not yet installed

as is my habit, I will swallow up the gallery, art league Houston. yay. tomorrow I bring down a 16x9 trailer load of rubber and rebar and will suspend the deconstructed domestic threshold (doors) from the ceiling.

yay for loading help.:)

opening jan 18 @ 6 pm
artist talk 6:30
art league Houston
show runs through early march.

Friday, January 04, 2013

the three little...understructures plus one

eight, ten, twelve, plus 13 feet in height. need one more ten footer plus a few more structural cross beamy thingies just in cases I hang too much weight from them. now off to take the beast for her W-A-L-K. :)

that is not smaller! dang!

shoot. three inches narrower and a foot shorter. shoot but a nice kind of shoot -- I will use the sloped ceiling to dictate the areas from which the emptied domestic bellows will flow. next one will be only 10' in height followed by one 8'. good thing they slap together quickly. I've decided not to even use the gallery walls. everything will either appear to be spilling from the attics or defying gravity in its coming apart (suspended; I've got my 80lb line and a cazillon tiny eyelets. good thing I've got the whole week for install.

at the candy store

perhaps most women my age are in the process of redecorating. pretty sure my afternoon will be spent building in the drizzle. by days end, I am pretty sure my back will be tired, I'll have breathed more saw dust then I like, the Dopt and I will poncho up for a (whispered) a walk, and it will have been a very good day :) it is a shame I never bought sock in Home Depot way back when.

dang. maybe still building a tad to large. :)

ha. a side effect of the first four weeks of my E-experience

I have started reading books I hadn't consider. it has simply come about as I have seen various texts mentioned on this or that profile, or repeatedly mentioned across several. I've found each one highly timely and useful in their own way. Some I am reading for the first time, others reskimming, a couple business one's only google book skimmed of the available previews, and some are just downloaded and hovering in my digital library ready to be read. I like this e-byproduct and think if I can manage it with my shifting teaching preps, and my spring venture with a writing workshop, I will try to keep up this impromptu reading plan. in reality, the two most helpful of the set would have to be the dysfunctions of a team (professionally applicable) and those authored by the brain father of e-harmony (personally applicable), perhaps even life altering. not that the material is truly new but it was framed in such away as, "oh that is soooo dead on. I really have to embrace this stuff in actual lived experience..." And I am.

and perhaps all this reading and skimming in the four weeks indicates that I should have listed reading or skimming on my profile. ha. I did not.

other side effects have begun in the arenas of refinement of my internal picker (for friends + mate), exercising of boundaries mostly at a digital level to date, delight, and hopefulness. it has also got me analyzing my life philosophies and seeing where my lived experience and my heart haven't been quite synched up of late (admittedly I have definitely been in an transitional phase--but i have allowed my j-o-b to overshadow everything through fear of base things like food, shelter, aging, etc. i understand this phase to probably be highly normal. that's my story and I am sticking to it). there has been some digital blocks and red flags in this e-experience, I accept it as good because incompatible is incompatible no matter whose side it comes from. even incompatible in one key area could be problematic in terms of the long term. I've really embraced, or would like to believe i have, that incompatible does not negate wonderful on either's part, it simply means not a great match for a mate. I am learning a ton and find this process highly interesting and enjoyable and life giving. the reading is good, as has been the real world results. I've no complaints. I've been treated only with interest and great kindness -- frankly, this has just been good for my soul.

ok 13' high for the art league may be a bit much...

but the wood was free (thank you JoAnn) and I would like to upcycle it into another project later so I didn't even consider cutting it. but 13' tall may be a bit much for the gallery. dang. I think I need the CAM for space :D though my microforest makes everything look small.

Wednesday, January 02, 2013


as fast as I am wearing through these gloves, I've got to marvel that I still have finger tips since I typically work gloveless. and brrrrrr on my wimpy response to the cold. I am bundled up like the Michellin Man which makes stitching rubber and such for upcoming show slow going. sometime soon I've got to decide whether to build an indoor studio to take the edge off. brrrr.