Wasn't going to write today but just saw the movie Frida, which I thought was quite beautiful. It's about the painter Frida Kahlo, her painting and her life with Diego Rivera. The way Julie Taymor directed it at first made me skeptical but I ended up liking the way she made shots into moving paintings and such. Frida's painting in particular after her miscarriage just slayed me.
Seeing this made me think I should start painting again, but right now a stiff wind in any direction can make me think I should so anything again or for the first time, etc. so we'll see.
My writer's meeting tonight was phenomenal, full of people telling their human stories especially the struggles we all have with: what next, who am I, how to work, when to commit, when to let something go and sitting through the vast arctic tundra of one's self at times when the pain of certain things is this. I now belief all people go through this, I think it's a stage - at least - of grief. I am walking through one of those times now.
The movie about Frida Kahlo shows her doing this pretty much her whole life to one degree or another. A hero for real, not a showboat. Gorgeous without vanity, ruthlessness without cruelty, another female hero because so human. Thank God/dess for that. A line in the movie, the last line I believe, painted by her not sure, was something like: 'May the leaving be joyful and may I not return.' That made me cry, too. She died about my age now. I understand her sentiment.
Unlike her I have never had a husband who has divorced me return to marry me again and don't expect to, but I was so happy for her that happened. At least at the end of her life, the love she so richly deserved.
Some notes I have found myself writing on the street I will record here:
****
From today, written on 70th street between park & lex:
I don't know what to do but...another voice comes in saying: neither does anyone else and for a moment I feel calm. It's all theory innuendo ideas some experience hunches and a few moments of brilliance. Other than that means I'm on my own. Scary but true. Luckily I have a few paths I trust but even those need interrogation. God or whoever the fuck you are I need you now more than ever.
****
Note from Jan. 12 at 2:19pm (can't remember where I was but probably on street because it's on my phone):
Maybe timing is perfect.
Maybe I haven't finished things because they weren't ready not out of fear or laziness.
Maybe all is unfolding exactly as it should and all the self-flagellation is pointless.
Maybe I can let go and trust hp. Starting by taking care of myself.
Gentle. Be gentle.
***
On that note, to bed...perchance to dream and all like that. (Oh speaking of which Tucson has banned the teaching of The Tempest in their public school system, but no I can't go off on another rant...I just need to sleep. But remember kids: Shakespeare's bad for you, that English subversive freak...he was probably Gay)
Welcome to my blog..
"We struggle with dream figures and our blows fall on living faces." Maurice Merleau-Ponty
For professional information, publications, etc., go to my linked in profile. My Twitter account is @wilhelminapitfa
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment