Process. I am about halfway through the production of an upcoming show and am starting to break down. Something conceived to be so simple, paper mache, paper cuts, little fruits and pictures, has turned into a mountain of neurosis and suffering. Writing this I laugh a little at how clever I've become at turning good things bad.
Talking with a friend yesterday I commented how different my outlook would be if instead of assuming that people were inherently mad at me and that my work was never good enough, I took the position that the people I interact with are here to help me, that they are compassionate towards my pain and that the work I make with my hands is a reflection of love. This is why I love artwork, and the labor of baking, because it takes something so simple to show you how and where you are stuck. Yesterday all i could do was thrash around in it. Today, maybe something else is possible.
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