rebellion?

Some one said to me today in regards to me

that i am
brave to fight my terror
that i am
forthright to fight my hypocrisy

this feels right and then they asked about my rebellion and i don't know the answer. i do know that i rebel. but i think all these concepts/feelings/behaviors tie together bravery and terror, forthrightness and hypocrisy. they seem to be both the light and dark side of my rebellion. i say dark and light because some rebellion is needed, is good, especially in our culture which as a whole distracts, diverts and pacifies us from actually paying attention to what is happening around us--so that we do not rebel. so rebellion in me is needed, but it also is destructive when i rebel against good things within me and others, when i rebel as a defense from an imaginary foe.

am i rebellious to fight artificial constructs of oppression both culturally and within my self?
am i rebellious to hide my fear, my terror?
where does my rebellion come from?
how do i use it for good? how do i stop using it as a shield, a deflection, against others and myself?

i stand in the rubble of my crumbled tower.

I heard the quote below and it resonated with my current condition. I have been a good vulcan, a good cyborg, i have told myself that i know, that i understand, that i am certain, that i am in control, that i am rational and that i am autonomous. and i know that this is the lie i tell myself. this wall of knowing, understanding, certainty, control, rationality and autonomy has coming crashing down around me. it hurst like hell. but this crumbling of my tower is good. this tower i've built out of these things isolates me, keeps me from being known and knowing others, myself and god. it prevents me from connecting, from belonging. in this moment when i find the rubble around my feet, i will try not to rebuild this tower, this wall. i will try and allow for being scared, being sad, being afraid, and to allow myself to cry SO THAT i may be known and know others, myself, and god, that i may connect, that i may belong. i have discovered that i can't be a vulcan. my tower that has crumbled wasn't keeping me safe anyway, it was only keeping me alone.

It's all a front, a great big game of pretend

inside we are terribly scared
inside we are terribly sad
inside we are terribly afraid

we found a way to cover our fears
we found a way to cover our sadness
we found a way not to have to cry

to always pretend that we are certain
to always pretend that we are right
to always pretend that we are in control
to always pretend that we understand

but we know better inside
but at this point we have almost begun to believe the lie ourselves

Fr. Richard

view from my rocking chair

Oh the view.
that i loved deeply and had rich friendships
that i helped others find deeper meaning on their own paths
that i was not afraid to laugh or cry
that i knew joy
that i was not afraid of hardship and change

yes and from my rocking chair i would still like to be making art and writing and mentoring and loving, but not in isolation but that i would be connected to others, to myself, to god

that i took time to walk, to feel the sun on my face
that i gave myself in love
that i gently and givingly held my love with care
that i did not hoard my love, energy, mind, or soul
that i had gratitude for both the gifts and hardships

that as i rock i would still be able to breathe in joy, know connection

art is important but it is nothing in comparison to love and life

so what is my BHAG (big hairy audacious goal)
to love richly and givingly

how does one generate emotional capital to make changes

this is what i am working on...generating emotional capital. it cannot be generated in a day or a week. it took a long time to destabilize my accounts by the choices I've made or been afraid to make and now i must recover the emotional capital to make changes in my life. i believe i can secure this emotional capital needed to move me into a space of belonging, that space where i can walk in joy, and that gives me the freedom and desire to partner out of strength. but it will take me some time, some opening of myself, risk taking and practice to lay hold of this capital and to not let it slide through my fingers because they become slick with the sweat of fear. but i believe it is in me, that the strengths is already there, i just have to relearn how to use it, to exercise it. i believe that time is not a deal breaker, but in fact allows for healing and growth both for me and those i love. each of us must do some of our own work so that we can move forward and then at the right time work with our partner aiding one other over the bumps that take more than one in this path called life.

i continue to look at the role of making, writing, mentoring and loving in my life. and looking at how to grow in the areas that have atrophied and trust the areas that are strong.

quoting from my own journey into becoming ...

I have reached that space in life where my strength of ego and self-will allow me, draw me, to take the risk of “becoming.” Becoming who I am, not that self defined by “shoulds.” Change is difficult. Self sabotage common. Yet, I am moving into that self that has been simmering below my surface for a very long time.

I am consumer, lover of stuff.
I am female, pink appeals.
I am forty-four, decay has begun.
I am visual, language challenged.
I am seeker, life teaches.
I am designer, anally fixated.
I am watcher, society astounds.
I am pattern seer, micro macro, macro micro.
I am dysfunction, I function.
I am spiritual, Christ calls.
I am tactile, let me touch it.
I am American, arrogance assumed.

This surfaced self binds together the fragments of my many selves into a unit, into a whole. And as I step into this whole/fragmented self...I find myself. Deep satisfaction. Maturation.

My should self has never known passion. My ... self has been safe. An electric current of fear courses through me as passion moves to the forefront. Art informs my design. Design informs my art. AND ALL THESE GOD USES TO INFORM AND TRANSFORM MY LIFE. I step to the edge of change and waiver there. The safe and unsafe are merging and I am becoming. (2005)

-----

NOT TO BE SAFE

I step to the edge of change and wavier there until my own demons pull me back. No. I choose to follow them back. I give myself over. Change is screaming to me and I know it is what I need, what I want. What I CRAVE!

Simultaneously, the lure of safe sameness calls to me, beckoning me back from the edge, yet I find that my toes curl tightly to this edge. I am stretched, torn, yet, I am not returning to the safe sameness! I will process the fear, redirect it. I am not beating my head on the same wall, or at least it looks different, feels different...is different?

What is not different are the demons. They are not new. Every time I step into/toward change, they approach me­—steal my thoughts, riveting them on old fears. I require, demand, to push through, not to give in, NOT TO BE SAFE.

I have chosen not to dream, but now they break over me in a rushing onslaught. Not the dream of sleep have I fled, but the dream of future-casting. And now I taste the dream rolling across the back of my tongue and it scares the hell out of me! (2006)

As scared as I am of my dreams and to move away from safety, I cannot allow myself to be swallowed by fear. It is no longer an option to be paralyzed by fear, it is no longer an option to allow my roots to remain thirsty, but i must also understand that within myself the cultivation of emotional capital to change requires more than a week or two and i must be willing to do the work.

what is grief?

it swells in my soul and i can not contain it. where does it come from? where does it go? i grieve.

the big picture

i know making, writing, mentoring and loving are part of who i am.

1. MAKING allows me to discover things
   about my world and self that would
   otherwise remain submerged and unattainable;
   it brings me joy, dirt and laughter
   
2. MENTORING (teaching) gets me outside of myself,
   teaches me, helps me unlearn what doesn't belong;
   it brings me delight and purpose
   
3. WRITING connects me through silence to my self,
   God, the world and others; helps me remember
   who I am and am becoming and how i fit;
   it brings me faith; it reveals my wounds;
   it opens me
   
4. LOVING fills my body and soul,
   it connects my fragments of being
   it gives me the desire to both give and receive;
   it strengthens me; it brings me hope.

When i neglect any of these, my life, who i am, limps. or when i get to focused on how to eat and forget to walk, i limp. To walk in my own skin and know joy, i must attend to making, writing, mentoring and loving and not overlook the details of eating but not focus on it either. And so now i must walk my path in my own skin, take steps toward eating*, and i must attend. it may take me a while to figure out how to do these things, but i will.

*eating refers to the daily details of things i need to do in order to have food, shelter and such.

when your gram turns 97 and wants steak; she gets steak!

This past Sunday we celebrated my grandmother's 97th birthday by taking her to lunch for steak (guess i came by my steak loving honestly). If i can be 1/2 as sharp as she is when i turn 97, i'll be doing ok...oh yeah and she's highly mobile, smart, a great storyteller, and just got her first cell phone. on top of all that she is funny as well. AND don't even think of saying something you don't want her to hold you to because she doesn't forget anything. She is pretty dang amazing.

other peoples thoughts falling through my head

it is a frightening thing to open oneself to this strange and dark side of the divine; it means letting go our sane self-control, that control which gives us the illusion of safety. But safety is only an illusion, and letting it go is part of listening to the silence, and to the Spirit....

I realized the very vehemence of my reaction meant perhaps i should in fact stop and listen. The Spirit does not hesitate to use any method at hand to make a point to us reluctant creatures...

Listen to the silence. Stay open to the voice of the Spirit...

When I am constantly running there is no time for being. when there is no time for being there is no time for listening...

Madeline L'Engle (woman who wrote a wrinkle in time ... my first venture into science fiction as a kid)

suckling artifact

suckling artifact. remnant tubes, tire and baling wire.
~2' x 2' x 3'. 2008

freshly made.

artifact for bbap silent auction to be held at
BBAP 21st birthday party celebrating 21 years of public art in Houston...
Saturday, November 1, 2008, 7:30pm - 11:30pm
Architecture Center of Houston, 315 Capital, Houston, TX

Costumes to Cocktail... a Carnival. A night of fun, food, libations, entertainment and a silent auction.

It seems hard to believe that Buffalo Bayou ArtPark ("BBAP") is turning 21 this year. In many ways the last 21 years of BBAP have flown by, but in others ways BBAP is just now getting its stride as the premiere temporary public arts organization in Houston. So with a fond look back and with an optimistic view of the future BBAP looks to celebrate the last 21 years with BBAP's 21st Birthday Celebration on November 1, 2008. The evening will include all of the elements for a successful 21st birthday party, food, libations, entertainment, and a silent auction. So come join BBAP and lets put the FUN back into fundraising.

Pre-sale tickets are $25, or $20 if purchased in groups of six or more. At the door tickets will be $35. Sponsorship opportunities are also available.

gosh dang it.

make art or write she said while trying to smile. let things work themselves out in the making. let the angst, confusion, and fear out of the body through working it. breathe. breathe again. let the tears flow and meld with the work, but work. now get to it before i cry more and can't find the air in which to breathe! breathe. breathe. please breathe.

currently reading

as cheesy as it sounds, i am currently reading Getting the love you want by Harville Hendrix. Historically i would never have picked up such a book with it's cheesy self-help psycho babble title because i am a bit arrogant and think i am smart enough to figure out everything all by myself. But the year has revealed to me that i can't figure things out by myself and pulling myself up by the bootstraps of my steel toed boots doesn't really get me anything but a boot wedgy.

The world is not comprehensible,
but it is embraceable through
the embracing of one of its beings
Martin Buber

The man who desires to see the living God
face-to face does not seek God in the empty
firmament of his mind, but in human love.
Fyodor Dostoyevsky

so far the book, recommended by a good boxer friend, is very interesting. Just finished forward and found it very helpful and provoking me enough so that i want to continue reading.

treading where no one hears the echo of her footfall

tell me a story.

Tell me the story of when fire came down and consumed two souls into one, two melded not in sameness but in fiery harmony, where they fit together and made a wholeness, a rightness, a space of intimate belonging, where love and partnership merged in the flame, a love so deep the aching overwhelms. Tell me the story of the unfolding of the fragments of wholeness through the vehicle of love. Tell me the story of a fire that can burn me with goodness and beauty. Tell me this story, not one of shadows; one of hope, not hardening. Let me flee the shadows that are bleak with chill and harden my soul in areas that have only yet begun to thaw. Tell me the story of love and light, the one that draws back the curtains of my soul and beckons me to the scent of dawn. Tell me the story where I can know light, where I can flow into the future fully present, one where this gentler light warms the hard places of my soul. Tell me a story of fire.

I don’t want to hear the story of she who steals, who embraces the cold shadow of lie and self deception that dance teasingly over her heart.

I don’t want to hear her story of longing that goes empty, a space where she remains vacant and lost and wretches in the wilderness of her under grown soul.

I don’t want to hear the story of the girl who got lost in her head with a thought, an idea, who lost all sense of presence and found herself alone in the vacuous cavern of her own mind, treading where no one hears the echoes of her footfall.

treading where no one hears the echoes of her footfall. in process for show in the space of absence. exhibition at lawndale art center, late january 2009. ~12' x 6' x 4'. Remnant tubes, wire, thread, cinder blocks. in process.

I don’t want to hear the story of the girl who sacrificed herself for doing only what is right, who didn’t know love because she was to afraid of doing wrong.

I only want one story; I don’t want to hear the others for fear that they are me.

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

reading...

transformation seems required; maintenance no longer functional.

"if we can free ourselves from our robot-like habits of predictability, repetition and function, we begin to walk differently..."

in the space of absence (january 2009 coming)

for upcoming show, in the space of absence,
at lawndale art center (mid january 2009)
6' x 9' x 6'. remnant tire tube liners. not quite finished. shot with cell phone camera-not bad.


AND the grunge from a day with tires looks a little like this

...gnawing hunger

...gnawing hunger. tubes, video screen, video, thread, baling wire. collaborative with video artist, Michael Henderson, 2008.

working in the womb of remnant tubes

photos by kara duval, 2008.

some of you have wondered what it looks like to work with tubes, well here it is, except i am actually clean for the photo shoot. usually i am filthy cause tire tubes are filthy.

yeah i know, i should wear a respirator as well.

when i don't want things to be too thin

Two good books are swallowing me whole—anam cara and beauty the invisible embrace both by John O’Donohue. Each was loaned to me by one of my beloved grand girlfriends because she’s been watching me wavering between wallowing in the funk of aging and basking in a joy I’ve not know which seems to infuse me as I shuffle down this path.

A couple of quotes are helping me find my footing…I’ve smushed them into one.

“when you accumulate experience at such a tempo [were greed for destination obliterates the journey] everything becomes thin.”

How do I obliterate? What are the destinations I obliterate? What is it that I am trading for destination? What is the fear that accelerates me to my destination and therefore bypass the journey? Will I blink and be done?

i weep

the caress of blue, bluer
the kiss of the wind, richer
the depth of the pools
in the shadows of remnant souls
in which i swim
more liquid with sounds
laughter and grief

again i weep
where is this well
of the rivulets of salt
that stream hot
spring

i am ice
how is it
that i melt
that i become
less vacant
less lost

making stems
from my angst
if i slide
into the embrace
of the beautiful
that is so swift
to steal me
into its arms
of sheer grace,
that breathes
open my heart
so unexpectedly

if it awakens in me, joy
where then will
my work manifest
who will i be
who am i
the ground shifts
below my feet
how is this so

i weep
so afraid
of striping
this thing
i’ve found
of its goodness

yet
my life
is better
for this
ache

The Empty BOX event images

Dean and Mari took great shots...check out the gallery

...once unthinkable

...once unthinkable. 9' x 4' x 6'. ~400 pds. remnant windows, tubes, baling wire, thread. 2008. on view at the Houston Arts Alliance, space 125 gallery, through August 8, 2008.

Latest BOX 13 project

We are beginning to take the BOX back to some of it's original 1948 colors, like a minty institutional hospital green--just lovely.

the mysterious spousal unit many have assumed to be fictitious

he thinks artists are weird and yet here he is covered in oatmeal.
go figure. performance art perhaps. Awe, but he is a good man. :-)

grrrrr.

i NEED to make art or write or do SOMETHING besides think. my hands need to be moving to force me outside of my own head and onto a single doable trail that wont leave a wake of destruction. my feet can't seem to find ground. i am so distracted, it makes it hard to take anything to completion! dang if i am not stuck in my own head and can't get out! Perhaps my T3 is still just a wee bit high (this does not refer to the rise of the machines).

Artist talks and tour of Cohesive Discord @ the Houston Arts Alliance

Cohesive Discord
Artist talks/tours brown bag style.

You are invited to hear the stories behind the art of "Cohesive Discord" when Kathy Kelley, Elaine Bradford and David Waddell host a bring-your-lunch tour of the show at noon today. space125gallery, 3201 Allen Parkway (Houston Arts Alliance). Parking is available in the Houston Center for the Arts lot on D'Amico Street (on the south side of the building) at a rate of $2 per car.

Cohesive Discord
Artist talks and tour (brown bag)
Noon
Houston Arts Alliance
July 1, 2008
11:30 – noon Meet & greet
Noon - Artist Talks/tour

don't ask if you don't want to know

v7

remnant foam, baling wire. ~12" x 4" x 4" each. 2008

H7
carbon, oxygen, water, etc. dimensions vary for each. 2008.
Photos by Katy Anderson

unreasonable art, I make; pretentious artist, I am

soon i shall expound on these topics.
1. differentiating between reasonable and unreasonable art
2. exploring how i became a pretentious maker of unreasonable art.

muchness and manyness

my utter nothingness I mask
in my hunger
for muchness and manyness

-------------------

I am so very small
the fracture between us
yawns as a cavern
so wide I close my eyes to feel
the bruise of soul

Opening June 19 from 6-8 pm

at space125gallery at Houston Arts Alliance
June 19 to August 08, 2008
OPENING RECEPTION : Thursday, June 19, 2008, 6 p.m. - 8 p.m.

Cohesive Discord
Join space125gallery as we host Cohesive Discord, a site-specific installation featuring eleven artists from BOX 13 ArtSpace. Participating artists have created site-specific works that pensively engulf & personify space125gallery. Each artist has individually worked in his or her medium of expertise but within their collaborative teams has articulated his/her work in an unexpected way. This is the first time BOX 13 artists will be exhibiting collectively in Houston. The exhibit opens on June 19 and will remain on view through August 8, 2008.

Participating artists include: Anila Quayyum Agha, Elaine Bradford, Teresa O'Connor, Lisa Marie Godfrey, Woody Golden, Michael Henderson, Kathy Kelley, Jennie Nuttal, Whitney Riley, Mat Wolff and David Waddell

BROWN BAG ARTIST TOUR/TALK WITH
Elaine Bradford, David Waddell and Kathy Kelley
Tuesday, July 1 noon to 1
Bring your own lunch to space125gallery

3201 Allen Parkway (MAP)
Houston, TX 77019

Created to promote dialogue amongst artists and viewers. Please reply if you are planning to attend this event by contacting crystal@haatx.com