Showing up is all I can do right now, in this moment. And by showing up, I mean typing these words that I don’t feel like typing. It doesn’t even matter what they say. The act of typing them, keeping to my schedule is the important part.1 I am tired. Emotionally and sometimes physically exhausted. It’s possible you are tired and perhaps emotionally, or physically exhausted, too. I laugh at memes that should get me arrested, and wonder how this is happening.
Every summer, I try to outwit the heat. For the past three weeks, the blinds have been shut in every room. The bedroom is a black hole, 24/7. The rest of the house gives off psycho-thriller vibes—not completely dark, but vignetted, the corners lurking in shadow. Thinking this might not be helping my mood, I opened the curtains this morning and discovered a large, stubborn blob of bird shit on a front window pane—only slightly smudged by yesterday’s sheets of rain.
I spent most of yesterday rearranging the tactile studio. The tactile studio is the room that has the counter-height work table, and the paper cutter, the old library of small paperbacks that fit neatly in a bookcase, boxes of fabric, the sewing kit, a large metal T-square I’ve had since college when I was coerced into majoring in graphic design, or communication design as it might have been called, the shelf of nostalgia, and my dwindling collection of tapes: masking, duct, electrical, carpet, gaffer’s, scotch, and painter’s.
There is a plein air easel, folded, in the corner, and when I opened the blinds, I saw an ant, then another ant. Today, there are no ants. It’s too hot to caulk outside, but I suspect I have detected the breach.
Summer dish I have not yet grown tired of:
Silken tofu
Unsweetened coco powder
Stevia, to taste
Puree!
Then chill
Whip cream
Repeat
And I missed my deadline.
Mary (Mary Addison?—double name?) I enjoy reading your Substack. It's a fun glimpse into a day or week in the life of an exceptional, maybe eccentric-ish artist. Somewhat, sometimes cranky-ish—?, but living an embodied artist's life....Showing up is important. I didn't show up here for three weeks. Then twice in one week. Because the times demanded it—both ways. I find sometimes, I need to honor the "no" in me. But, I get, too, the need for momentum and consistency. Keep on art-ing on—in the words of my ol' art professor friend. xL
Sometimes, showing up is the grandest gesture there is. Feel good about it! :)