a day of abusing one of my fav art slave

a huge thank you dean Liscum!

find the closest green space and go there now!

I happen to be so fortunate as to live embedded in it. ummm. though, when the insurance company called to do a wildfire evaluation of the hermitage in the woods, I felt my pocket book groan knowing that living in a microforest is simply a fire hazard. just is. fortunately it was not mandatory (this time), so i read the forms, I already meet most recommendations, and will comply with the one that remains, but i definitely declined the site evaluation. now go outside and soak it up!

spherical sisters reunite in the microforest

journey to and fro from hermitage always dreamlike

clearly a gift!

ok. maybe I should be a little tidier when I work

this is post post cleanup. omg! attractive!!

a lazy day for at least one

not so lazy for the human who deconstructed "once unthinkable" from 2008. a little over kill on that build...

I suppose I could work in a cube, but why would I do that?!

perhaps I will grow old
here, listening to the canopies
rustle their songs
the glowing orb pressing its warmth caressingly
along exposed skin and sweatered core
momentarily still
the leave litter scents
of regenerating earthen decay, drifts
the unborn buds hide yet a day or two more
soon to overwhelm with the rich textures of living
I may wait here
to grow old

not now or ever has fast appealed
cluttering days toiling at stones and shoulders to step upon
yet admittedly when fear enters in
trolling the base archive of Maslow's need
revealing the toll of man-made-mana
mind burdened with the overlay of should dos
I grow old in rushed wakes ruins

so when I am able
lifting, sorting and shifting
minuet cosums within my microforest
up turned lips with glacial slow humming blinks, basking
momentary freedoms
I wait to grow graciously old
in these spaces

hello mr tree my structural storage friend

somethings don't change much

This is clearly apparent as I dig through old stuff with my folks to sort and clear out as my pop prepares for retirement living walking distance from my mom's full care. My folks are totally moving forward and excited. I, on the other hand, sniffle as I shift through years of life with them and the deleted years.

The unchanging:
loving my pups.

Farlow Ave. Crofton, Maryland with my mom. A visit from my Aunt and cousin Andy for momma pup, Caraway, to visit one of her babies (which became mine).

My hermitage in the woods, 2013.

the outdoors.

ha. We, my bros and I, caught these by hand in remnant puddles in after a hurricane (Maryland near Fort Meade)

Stubblefield, Sam Houston National Forest, 2013

being on the water.

Springfield, Virginia (ha. Neighbor was covert operative for CIA...ummm why did we all know this?)

Stubblefield, Sam Houston National Forest, 2013

a tad silly hair up glamour.

Crofton, Maryland front yard glamour shoot with best friend Laura Williams

A walk in the cold winter woods near my hermitage, 2013.

fun. one of those kind of days

straight from three hour lecture (ha...no i really don't lecture that long...i blend in activities or i'd die in a pile) where i test ran my ipad 4 (ipad 3 stolen. dang smash and grab along with my art journal. punks) hooked up to projection system and controlled it while walking around using my iphone that even allowed me to view the presentation notes for each slide. dang that was awesome. well not the lecture, but the being untethered from the podium. got to work on the lecture, definitely glazed eyes today. ANYHOW, the point is i went straight from lecture, still all dudetted up in my work clothes, and hit the water to test my new kayak paddle. perfect day--yak that! yup.

>

wind howling

beautiful full moon; art structures caught and downed by the winds. calling it early tonight and am going to cuddle warmly and listen to the wind talk to my trees as the moon leads.

strip it down to the three things undergird four

focus to build

the THREE that under gird
authenticity, connection, kindness

the FOUR that just are
loving, writing, making, mentoring

I see the gaps
the pragmatics
the rubber the street
boot straps
pulling
right down to rebuild of digital losses grrr my stolen tech
and one arm juggling

do it differently
envision
ready set go

what, what, what
no more dad dopty (dog) sitting
she'll be so disappointed

Ketch ok

if you've stumbled upon my art journal, ketch ok, in Houston I would love to have it back. it was snatched when my backpack with all my tech in it was stolen. figure it was tossed out so it might randomly reappear.

pretty please.

oh. if you happen to find my laptop and ipad, I would gladly have those back as well.

Cut the Crap.

reading Cut the Crap by Jill Carroll. So here goes my top ten to top five to top three core values. dang. Text suggests anything not directly consistently aligned with top three are probably areas of crap in my life. Concur. Interesting that in my previous internal mucking around to get at who I am and what I want based on my hard and soft wiring, I got to four key items to who I am and what I need--loving, mentoring, writing, and making. Within verbiage Jill's, I get to authenticity, connection, and kindness. it is clear to me that these three directly under gird my four perhaps at an even more fundamental level.

TOP 10
peace
security
spirituality
authenticity
community
gratitude
responsibility
creativity
connection
kindness

TOP 5
security
spirituality
authenticity
connection
kindness

to TOP 3
authenticity
connection
kindness

back to home renovations

more olive drab switches and sockets replaced. more importantly, they work :)

nice to have time to be making forward motion on the hermitage! equally sweet, I've donned my old running gear and am running the back roads of my hood. sweet feeling.

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

Art League Houston

Exhibition January 18-March 8, 2013
OPENING JANUARY 18, 6-11 PM
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


INSTALLATION SOURCE WRITINGS [Kathryn Kelley]

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
across

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
again

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;
focus.

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.

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

lunch break...

the uncontrollable nature of grief...in process for art league Houston exhibition opening 1/18 @ 6 pm

installing (not done). :)

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.

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

yay

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.

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.

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.