Sunday, April 13, 2014
At some point during 1978 I moved out of the rat, roach infested house my mom rented from "Mother" Allen, the meanest woman I'd met to that point. I was gone for several weeks before telling my mother where I'd moved--since she was powerless against my brothers and their enemies and I couldn't afford to have any of them them find me, harass me.
Talking about this time is still very difficult for me and I can't go further except to say, the ups and downs had ups and down . . . spasmodic. The Ups usually had to do with art; completing assignments, preparing to show and compete at fairs, thinking about which discipline to focus my efforts toward applying for admission to the respective department.
The piece shown above is one of the the very few pieces I have from that time, I sold or gave away nearly everything I created. This piece was resting in my portfolio. A few years ago, showing my daughter my work, I tok it out. My mother saw it, liked it, and offered to have it framed. One thing or another kept that from happening. I photographed it only a few days ago as I've just decided to get rid of it or alter it in some way.
Or not. I may put it back in the portfolio for a time, but either way, it has to get back out of sight, out of mind. For while it has been out in the open for some time now, I don't feel like I've really seen it, it has just sort of . . been. But, in recent days it seemed to be making noise, speaking to me, conjuring memories, good, bad, ugly, and . . . spasmodic.