the tangled strand of images.

I have a bit of a back log of blog entries. My constant awareness of my inability to spell makes me write all entries in word first. Depending on my energy level—okay sheer laziness makes it difficult sometimes to highlight my words, copy and paste them into the blog. My Las Vegas entry however was written when I was conserving money since the hotel charged 15.00 for Internet access. That town is just unbelievable. Today instead of joining Will for a crusty day of snowboarding I decided to stay at home and get some work done. House work, work on my books, thank you notes, processing images, etc. I started to work in Pikto, on my 2008 book, and as I was waiting for downloads I decided to work on untangling my photo garland I made for Christmas. As I took it off the tree the thin, delicate, thread that held the images together inevitably tangled. Its been sitting on my guest room bed now for weeks waiting for a little attention. The multi-tasker that I am decided that this was a perfect mid-download task to take on. The first few tangles were relatively loose and easy to figure out but as I reached the end the knots became smaller, tighter and more complicated. I physically changed my positions around this mess several times in hopes that the new angle would help. Still a mess. It suddenly struck me that this mess of images was quite a tangible metaphor for my whole approach to my art. I made the strand of images in a burst of creativity. I printed and strung them all together at once in a fit of determination and focus. As it hung on my Christmas tree I had plans for this strand. Life after Christmas was going to be just as eventful for this linear collage. Then as Christmas passed, I cleaned up, took down the garland and piled it in a heap. Historically, this is where many of my ideas and art stay, a semi-forgotten mess on an unused bed. This is why I am particularly struck by my determination to resurrect this little mess. There has clearly been a shift in my attitude towards my art. The voice that previously told me to leave it, forget it, it’s not worth spending the time, has been over powered by a new voice. This voice confirms the importance of my work, if only to myself. It has to start somewhere. It’s amazing that I’ve spent so many years in a state of self-doubt, side lining my talents because I couldn’t believe in them. It’s still easy to say but hard to believe sometimes. One day at a time. One step at a time. One thought at a time. Resurrecting one little mess--no, one work of art at a time.