Am I awash in a crashing sea, or drifting in limitless space? I’m rarely certain.
And this is an excellent thing. It’s just that, like everyone else I know, I find my own life filled with at least as much busyness and foolishness not genuinely germane to any practical reality that I can go for months—no, years—between times of what seem fully meaningful and joyful purpose. Still.
Once more, I’m on a giddy slide from the apex of the last big adventure, hurtling onward toward the next. Breathless, dizzy, overwhelmed, and kind of thrilled. I say kind of, because after all, it’s my nature to get a bit caught up in the usual doubt-a-palooza that grips my always tenuous sanity and gripes my innards. When I finally capitulate and admit that either I’ll be killed outright by my own overdoing or, surviving, will realize that all of my deeply-felt imperfections won’t keep the earth from rotating or my path from going forward, I’ll likely get back to my more standard style of laissez-faire living.
The new push is, thankfully, all toward good and desirable things. The obstacles, mostly of my own manufacture and therefore not terribly significant in the long run. Goals: wrap up a wildly busy decade of living in North Texas with my beloved and jamming our time with good friends, great students and colleagues, and lots of marvelous gigs, classes, rehearsals, conferences, concerts, and the making of many meals, messes, and artworks.
My partner managed to get enough help and encouragement from his publisher and editors and supporters to push through and see his new book come to print. I, while I’ve been less of a scribbler lately, am still closing in on the print version of a catalogue of the artworks from my November 2017 Dallas exhibition and the one straight ahead, the 23rd of this March, in Denton. And I still have about 40 other books in various states of undress in the cupboards and files of my mind and media. All but the catalogue will have to wait, however, as I have 2 scant weeks of actual work time left before installation of the next exhibition.
So I’m plunging ahead, keeping both of us tripping through the apartment over heaps-in-progress of painting, sculpture, framing, and assorted other pretty disasters related to the life of an artist. I hope those of you within shouting distance will show up to help me enjoy my gasps for air post-production when the real party happens.
Which party, as it does happen, will be a true farewell-to-Texas gathering since my spouse is preparing to return, at the end of this year’s university contract, to a freelance life as well. Let’s get this show on the road!