in looking back in the Archives, i saw this. i don't remember if it was on the wall or leaning against something...it wasn't the image being photographed, but in the background, or to the side, but my heart jolted seeing it.
did i leave it there??????
it's a self portrait. from that period of time i referred to as the dark years. Maybe, Hard Years would be better. i don't know. But from then. i drew it sitting amidst my great garden of squash. it was hot. things were not good. i ran the hose to irrigate while i drew and watched the water run down the rows. there were squash bugs on the underside of the leaves. their eggs. this image is somehow the Form i knew i had to take from there on in. until something happened. and that ended up taking years. i didn't think this when i drew, i just drew a picture of my Self. It ended up in this frame some years later when i was working to change out of that form, back into my "self" or a rendition there of. There was an Art Show up at the college, New Mexico Institute of Mining and Technology, in town...Socorro. a friend gave me the frame to borrow.
so...seeing it there....in the stream of pics of the Archives....
i called Alyssia...did she know? Is it here somewhere? Today she brought it. it was with the other things that are in storage, my glorious stove, Fiona, a chair or something. and since the Archives, i've been trying to remember a sequence of time for things which doesn't come easy for me. Dates. Time Frames. all i ever have is that Slide Show and it is not chronological. There's no Time in the Slide Show, it's all just there together, moving around. i took it out of the frame hoping there was a date on the drawing. No. just those 3 letters and that mark. it's simplicity. it's tenderness. just that. and it came as help with the question....What IS our "art"? specifically, what i call my art. Why. Whats the Point? There aren't words yet, but this
