Ever since March, when I found out I'd gotten into MacDowell, Adam and I have been bracing for an extended time apart. That was compounded later that spring when I learned I'd been accepted to Kimmel Harding.
Six weeks apart in a matter of months. It's too much.
These residences are very valuable. They're also an honor. But I'm not doing any more monthlong ones unless he can come with me. Two weeks is plenty if you really have your mind set on accomplishing something -- at least it is for me.
As I drove from Peterborough to Boston today, I realized that this is the first time in months that we're not preparing for that long time away from one another. It's a nice feeling.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
Moving on
Tomorrow is my last day at MacDowell. Really, today is my last full day -- tomorrow I will have breakfast, hop in my rental car, and motor down the scenic route to Boston.
Every song on Pandora seems to be about change, about leaving, about packing up and heading out. The weather provides an excellent chorus: windy, chillier than during my entire residency. The leaves are changing, the sky blue in that way that tells you fall has arrived, winter hard on its heels.
At MacDowell I have found new ways of crying, laughing, and thinking. I'm working on perfecting my Ping-Pong strategy. I've lit several short-lived fires and will try again tonight, late, after drinks, one last time. I have felt both isolated and understood. I danced in the very library where I sit now, shaking my ass to Michael Jackson, watching everyone around me just be themselves, there, just for that moment.
Every song on Pandora seems to be about change, about leaving, about packing up and heading out. The weather provides an excellent chorus: windy, chillier than during my entire residency. The leaves are changing, the sky blue in that way that tells you fall has arrived, winter hard on its heels.
At MacDowell I have found new ways of crying, laughing, and thinking. I'm working on perfecting my Ping-Pong strategy. I've lit several short-lived fires and will try again tonight, late, after drinks, one last time. I have felt both isolated and understood. I danced in the very library where I sit now, shaking my ass to Michael Jackson, watching everyone around me just be themselves, there, just for that moment.
Lunch Poem No. 22: The last one
This poem
is not to talk about change,
about the hello-goodbye
and April-come-she-will
playing over my headphones.
I want to tell you
about trees,
who we see
as seedlings,
gawky adolescents,
proud adults,
and finally
as corpses.
That is our cycle.
That remains the same.
is not to talk about change,
about the hello-goodbye
and April-come-she-will
playing over my headphones.
I want to tell you
about trees,
who we see
as seedlings,
gawky adolescents,
proud adults,
and finally
as corpses.
That is our cycle.
That remains the same.
Lunch Poem No. 21
We're going
for drinks tonight.
It seems appropriate,
this celebration.
Cap off
a month
of yourself,
of sitting
on a screened porch
listening to the echoes
of your brain,
wondering how
to escape
that mosquito's whine.
for drinks tonight.
It seems appropriate,
this celebration.
Cap off
a month
of yourself,
of sitting
on a screened porch
listening to the echoes
of your brain,
wondering how
to escape
that mosquito's whine.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
What I've learned
In part, at least:
Greatness begets greatness. That means those who are great in their creative lives are also great people. Not always the case, of course, but often enough that it gives me hope.
Stepping out of your comfort zone brings results. Duh, I know, but sometimes that's gotta be reinforced.
Things come in waves. Tomorrow you might feel entirely different about the thing you hated today -- or, for that matter, the thing you loved.
Pay attention to what you dislike, and what you are drawn to immediately. Expect that your reactions may fluctuate.
Be honest and go with your gut.
Ask yourself the question: "Who's in charge of me?" (Thanks to the composer who taught me that.)
If you need something and you have access to it, go for it. You'll probably meet with less judgment than you might expect.
But don't be afraid of judgment. Don't let it stop you from going the places you need to go and doing the things you need to make happen.
Take a day off. Go to places like Kittery, ME and Burlington, VT. Bring your camera or a sketchbook, or just a good radio and a curious mind. Stepping away helps you see a picture more fully.
Sing, especially if the acoustics in your studio make you sound like Diana Ross. Sketch. Take a video, make a fire, arrange flowers. Pace around and talk to yourself. Everything is part of the process, and if you contain yourself to a single activity, you will grow to resent the very thing that brought you here.
Speak your mind, especially when talking to yourself.
Tell the people you love that you love them -- at least once a day, and more is better. Love is rare, love is a gift, and that gift shines ever brighter at an entire country's distance.
Greatness begets greatness. That means those who are great in their creative lives are also great people. Not always the case, of course, but often enough that it gives me hope.
Stepping out of your comfort zone brings results. Duh, I know, but sometimes that's gotta be reinforced.
Things come in waves. Tomorrow you might feel entirely different about the thing you hated today -- or, for that matter, the thing you loved.
Pay attention to what you dislike, and what you are drawn to immediately. Expect that your reactions may fluctuate.
Be honest and go with your gut.
Ask yourself the question: "Who's in charge of me?" (Thanks to the composer who taught me that.)
If you need something and you have access to it, go for it. You'll probably meet with less judgment than you might expect.
But don't be afraid of judgment. Don't let it stop you from going the places you need to go and doing the things you need to make happen.
Take a day off. Go to places like Kittery, ME and Burlington, VT. Bring your camera or a sketchbook, or just a good radio and a curious mind. Stepping away helps you see a picture more fully.
Sing, especially if the acoustics in your studio make you sound like Diana Ross. Sketch. Take a video, make a fire, arrange flowers. Pace around and talk to yourself. Everything is part of the process, and if you contain yourself to a single activity, you will grow to resent the very thing that brought you here.
Speak your mind, especially when talking to yourself.
Tell the people you love that you love them -- at least once a day, and more is better. Love is rare, love is a gift, and that gift shines ever brighter at an entire country's distance.
Feeling all star-like
I just had the best photo shoot with Joanna Eldredge Morrissey, the staff photographer here at MacDowell. Jo drove up in her Jeep and just made me smile the entire forty-five minutes she was here, telling me stories about the ice storm in December (apparently a tree fell on my little New Jersey studio, damaging an entire section pretty badly) and swapping thoughts on New England versus California. I've seen some of the pictures and they look great. Can't wait for the rest!
Lunch Poem No. 20
I'm reading Facebook updates,
pissed off
at a bunch
of cliched crap.
Is that a line
fit for a poem?
Cliched crap?
Are the trees cliched crap?
The leaves, the bears?
What lasts?
What, indeed, lasts?
pissed off
at a bunch
of cliched crap.
Is that a line
fit for a poem?
Cliched crap?
Are the trees cliched crap?
The leaves, the bears?
What lasts?
What, indeed, lasts?
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