Moving along

It seems I've not done well on posting in this in April, and here it is now May.  But I've been thinking deep arty thoughts, I assure you.  OK, perhaps not.  But I have been sorting through lots of paintings and prints and sketches, and have made progress with the inventory of Karen Laub-Novak's work.  Archiving is a fascinating process, finding a personality shifting over many years and moods.  The range of her work inspires me.  And her obsessions I find weirdly comforting - ah, the wings of a bird of prey or a terrible angel, the horses of knights or the apocalypse, these familiar places that slot my understanding of individual work into the larger context of its entirety. Conveniently, I'm not unnerved by locusts or grief, sinewy or skeletal figures, shadow spaces.  I am thankful that she did not focus on spiders, of which I have a complete lack of bravery and irrational dread.

In terms of my own archives, I've recently dug through some of my own work from grad school.  There are some poems that I have no memory of writing at all.  Seen from that distance, they no longer have the starry sheen of inspiration, and fall flat. There are a few exceptions...and perhaps I'll play with those more.  There is some satisfaction is being able to recognize where things fall down, in any case.  And I find a certain symmetry in realizing I do have an angel poem.  I suspect Karen would be amused. There is a story I'd forgotten about that interests me in some ways, although those reasons are possibly more psychological than artistic.  I am clearly someone who writes out her demons, fictionalizing them into something manageable.  That level of exposure is a wee bit uncomfortable.

I've been thinking about that, about the ever watching Eyes of Audience, in terms of this blog.  A number of people have remarked on how personal it is, more journal than anything else, and I find the exposure is, well, awkward.  Largely, I started this blog with the understanding that it incredibly obscure and of interest only to those who already know me, and even those that know me don't necessarily want to hear me rambling along all the time, but will probably forgive me my typos and awkwardness.  Now there are a few folks that I've never even met who have read it.  On the one hand, I understand, yo, that's the idea, and the star child in me is thrilled by that, let the applause, or attention anyway, circle round.  On the other hand, it freaks me out.  How exactly do I present here?  Neurotic or nutty, funny or damaged, smart but self-conscious, analytical but antsy, all or none of the above?  This is the thing with art, writing, voice, honesty, fiction, you always show more than you think you do, and it's filtered through someone else's equally subjective world view.  I'm more comfortable with that now than I used to me (don't like it? don't like me? don't read it, and, uh, don't care).  But to say I'm completely comfortable?  Umm, no.

On that note, it is my mild hope to pull this more up out of my particular ponderings and react more to other people's work.  I'll be going to Neil de la Flor's book launch in NYC in mid May.  I hope to catch a Good, Greasy & Baked show while I'm there, if they're playing (need to check that).  Maybe see the Marina Abramovic exhibit at MoMA Neil has been talking about. Getting out of the studio for a bit, into the life and noise of NYC seems a good plan.  So more on that to come. In the meantime, those in DC should tell me where to be going for art, music, writing, etc.  I want to be in the summertime flow of dancing in the streets.