Learning to Write
Sometimes I feel conflict in the mornings between focusing on self-care activities such as writing and exercise or heading into the studio. I am sharpest in the mornings. I like to apply clarity of mind to my artistic pursuits.
Lately, I find myself booting up my computer more and more frequently to resolve this conflict. Am I experiencing a shift in my art practice? Am I becoming more .... fully? accurately? really? a writer? I don't know which of those words is most on-target, but I do find myself experimenting with new forms of creative expression of late- be they writing and publishing online or making videos for work or life. Although I have no doubt I will always be an object-maker, I wonder if the tsunami of social media is starting to wash off on me?
We know today's kids document every aspect of their lives. I'm pretty sure if I were a kid today I would be one who updates pages at lightning speed. Rather than trying to craft a public image of myself with party and friend photos, though, I would be one of those kids posting poetry and artwork, using the medium to try to figure out who I was, albeit on a public stage.
My mom, trapped in her house like the rest of us, has been digging through tucked-away boxes in the
closet, entertaining herself by reading saved correspondence. Who remembers letters? Stationery?
She tells me, through re-reading my old letters to her and my dad, that I am exactly the same person now as I was then. I find this fascinating. I’m not quite ready to read the letters and see for myself. I'm writing a book presently, a project I've been working on for a couple of years that has a lot to do with who and what made me who I am- as a mother, a daughter, an artist, a person. It will be exciting to read the letters; they are a time capsule of verbal snapshots. But I can't read them quite yet. I need to get a finished draft out of me first.