Dear Loyal Readers~

Somehow it’s been an entire month plus since I have posted anything here. All I can really say about that is that there is A LOT going on and I am barely making any sense of it. Been making a lot of personal decisions, confronted with nostalgia, pushing forward making more changes shedding the leftover skin of bad habits all whilst having no clear view of what’s to come next… A bunch of things all stacked up to do… but no clear sense outside of the things to be done. Every once in a while I have to stop and turn up a song. …

Contemplations from a rooftop…

Looking back in momentary lapse is refreshing now, even if the tears still come, everything is truly mixed up now. A large pot everything swirling around no telling what comes up to greet you, it’s all there so it’s all possible. I’m hoping that someday i’ll be able to explain clearly, but for now I just keep working… So much on the horizon, so much has gone by- finding gratitude and true forgiveness is a long sweet road often taken for granted.

At this point I am honestly bending over backwards for a project… here is some proof….

Please click to go to Kickstarter!

I will be posting more as soon as I can~

Thanks for reading~

{image is from my most recent ART on STREETS post on Untapped SF}

One of the most challenging things is throwing your hands into the air and saying YES. Expelling that amount of energy allows for both an influx and an out flux- that being open to the future not only means accepting the past, but also having space for whatever comes next.

Being open means that LOTS of things come your way- and you don’t really get to choose what comes- only your reaction to it. Sometimes things are SO challenging that your emotions clog up the works, get in the way and present another set of options…. And then, on the train, the homeless present another set of ideas.

Each person has an entire world circling them, their own universe- at times we overlap- sometimes these are pleasant, and at others not so much- either way, worlds collide and somehow we say YES, every single time- even when you say NO, you are saying YES to SOMETHING.

{looking forward to completing two new pieces in this series for SPRING Open Studios which is coming up}

I am currently a part of a very amazing project that you have seen me post about here on my blog called ‘Clean Socks’. We are currently moving forward with “Kickstarter” in the hopes of getting our team to Mongolia this coming June. If you would like to see more about the project, please visit our campaign by clicking the link below. The whole team would really appreciate any assistance so that we can bring back an amazing film and set of photographs. Thank you!

“Clean Socks” is a feature-length documentary about Mongolian contortion and tells the story of one of the best Mongolian contortionists in the world, Serchmaa Byamba, and her student Lance. The story takes place both in Mongolia and the United States of America.

I have been putting off finishing this, I wrote it days ago- but have been feeling pretty unwilling to share. I wonder sometimes why I do this, why I write these things and post them. Why you read them. Seriously, what is up with that? I have had some people send me messages about writing about my mom’s death helped them, people I’ll likely never talk too or meet. Not that I’m not happy you read these things, don’t get me wrong, but for some of you I guess this is your way of staying in touch. Nevertheless, moving on from familial struggles is quite challenging, and quite honestly almost impossible to write about in a clear fashion. You know, because of all the mixed up memories and emotions and sadness and love when all anyone really wants to do is move forward- even though taking the first step is oh so difficult, it really is the way, the ONLY way.

March 7, 2012

Two years ago today my mother passed away in front of us. She fought for a really long time. Even in the end when given permission to rest, she fought. Until then, I never really understood what kind of a fighter she was. I learned a lot about “life” in those final days, things that have made it very hard to proceed and love life. Which isn’t all that a far cry from “normal” or, at least, what I thought was normal for me. Subsequently, as I have mentioned here on this blog before, the things that happened around this turned out to be much more challenging than I thought. They say strange things happen around death- I’m going to counter that with- people are strange around death and illness, no one excluded.

I have been struggling to figure out a way to talk about this “two years past” moment. Lots of things have happened that I’d love to talk to you about, here, but in all honesty I have been taking the time not to place too much here on the blog. I needed a break from knowing that my feelings, trials and tribulations are just sitting here for others to read rather than be in touch. For two years I have been re-arranging and hoping that something will start to make sense. I have talked to a lot of people around grief and death and hospice and life and there is no rhyme or reason to it. Which might seem like a no brainer to you unfortunately my view was most definitely askew. Basically, there was a death, but somehow most of life stopped around it. Which is intense, and insane. All I can say here, is life is short- I know, most of my family has already passed away, well, the ones that I have known and have been close too, and the others, well- that’s still open, cause well, a year now and we haven’t been in touch

In terms of grieving- well- that path is thinning, so to speak. The thing that gets me most is when I see women around my age with their moms on the train. I remember one day when for a second I could look into her eyes in an image and not freak out, I felt an immense wave come over me “who am I to forget?” “Who am I to not carry the badge of grief?” “Does this mean I don’t love her?” *all of which are nonsensical of course, but WHAT it FELT like to realize that quite possibly the “rock in my pocket” of grief has a little less of a hold on me… that just because the sadness lessens doesn’t mean that I don’t love her. That maybe someday I can sense the sweetness again. And then this intense thing happened, I realized that I knew my mom at my age (yes, ok, I am terrible with numbers and time). For some reason this really hit me- “when you were my age mom it was just you and me- I can barely remember really- what I can remember is that you were fighting for it and trying to hide it from me”- which really became the MO for our relationship. (another topic I’ll leave out for now)

At this point, all that I can come up with is that even after two years, I am still very unsettled- they say grief time doubles when you are part of hospice in home situation, I say- stop calculating grief. What I have learned is that no matter how much I’d like things to have turned out differently, I cant allow that to be louder than what is actually going on. Time to “re-see”, heh, again.

~*~

If you have a moment, please check out this Kickstarter Campaign

Today I decided to reflect on a “leap”. There are all sorts of leaps that we make throughout our lives. For me, one of my “leaps” is quite obviously my asana practice. Going to yoga is much more than just attending class, it is a part of my daily life. Each day is arranged around practice- when I eat, how much I eat, how much I drink- what these things are specifically…and each time I practice I take a leap. Whether physically or emotionally- Yoga is also becoming a type of security that has taught me to move through life in a way that is constantly evolving with no “end” in sight, there will always be something to work on, always be something to learn. How this happened, no idea. I just kept going, invested my being- and here I am, years later infused with physical and emotional tools that are constantly changing shape.

So, where is the leap? You ask… Yes, it is true- this is not that much of a leap of faith as it is continual integration- to most people it will seem as so. But, if you’ll give me just a moment, I think I’ll be able to get this out… For me personally, dealing with grief, has been much more than a trying process. Yes, it’s true- this is not my initial leap into yoga- but this topic will make the most sense. When in grief- things are turned upside down and inside out. Not many things make sense. Somehow you are left with your Self and you get to figure it out.

We all have choices we are given during these moments that seem to string together endlessly. Even if we can’t really decipher them, they exist. There are numerous un-seen gifts and hidden teachers in each and every thing we do. When I eventually made it back into the Yoga studio it was monumental to me. I quite honestly can not remember which class it was, I’m not even sure I explained what had happened to my family… I just went. Without any clue as too what would happen. Would I cry? Would I be able to stay for the whole class? Can I talk to people? Can I take care of myself? (leaps 1, 2 &3) I cannot tell you details really- but what I can tell you is that during the grieving I went through this process over and over, so many times that I even note this process happening to this day.

I am simply taken aback by what my creativity is doing. There is no question about it being it’s own entity- that it has it’s own life, it’s own discussion with experiences and a whole set of responses. “Being Creative” and Creativity are not the same thing. In fact- for me they can work against each other.

Over the past week or so I have been drawing a lot more- well, specifically drawing rather than incorporating lines and symbols into a mixed media piece. Just pen & paper- which then culminated in quite a few hours of re-drawing which produced pretty much nothing in the end. Meaning- the initial gesture held it’s own, but then the act of doing took over and concepts started to invade- things became complicated. So, I stopped, after hours and hours of working I did not take the plan to the last step. I looked back at the original sketch and the revolt began. “What is this for?” “Why are you so involved in this?” “You do realize this is going to get thrown away, don’t you?”

I sat there and let the argument run around in my head a little longer. Years and years ago tossing a sketch was easy- you keep some & you toss some. Not like it meant “nothing” but it really didn’t mean that much- it served it’s purpose, an act “get this out of my face so it doesn’t effect anything else” and without a second thought, gone. But this time it was different- I took note of how I was feeling while I was drawing, as well as after I realized I had switched from creativity being in control to doing. Paying close attention to this, as if an observer in the process, I was given a lot of information. First off- that I have been denying myself some un-explainable things- and only while tapping into my emotional scope with in  the act of doing would I have been able to “see” them. Secondly- while allowing creativity to run and do it’s thing my physical system is allowed t “relax” in a way that is not possible in other situations. And lastly, but definitely not least- it felt good. There was something unidentifiable happening by drawing, or so currently foreign- that I was just pleased to be pushing my markers and pens across the page (albeit at times I was drawing too quickly for the markers). Standing there in awe as my hands did their thing- separated, almost as if my eyes were closed. Reminded me of early figure drawing classes when we had to draw with our “other” hand. This was valuable information! It felt good to do it regardless of the judgment of it. Needless to say, I did not throw it out yet, it’s sitting here as an example. I’ll likely never show it to anyone, and that is ok.

{image above is from original sketch}

There is some trick; I am convinced, to being alive in San Francisco. Each day I wonder. Each day starts with a level of unsure ness. All that seems to be happening is a certain amount of constant re-arranging. It is tiring. Basically it is some “journal” and I spending too much time together. I have become void in the face of re-arranging my business. It takes all of me not to scrap it all, but then just thinking that hurts. The past few weeks have been so darn confusing, and as I said, tiring. Everyone always said not to go into the arts, over and over. This consistent disrespect for my being has been so deeply ingrained that when someone pays no respect to me it just falls in line with that. And, quite frankly, that is most unacceptable than anything else & I have been letting it happen. I’ve allowed myself to be void and now I am struggling to come back from it. A thick swampy void. For a while, it was as if I had forgotten all that means anything to me. Lost it all. Void.

To work within the void is where the “trick” lives. That this void is actually space – takes some faith. That this void is not loss – takes some talking into. That the way this void is highlighting so many in congruencies between my Self and the work I’m doing, what I am doing and whom I am doing it with is important, uncomfortable, but very important. Nothing new persey – just an active game of hide and seek compiled with some self respect. In the void I was in “re-examination mode”, but in a way that developed with some extra reality.

Removing certain “services” from my repertoire for 2012 and adding in some things that serve me on another level. This is hard for me, it is easy to believe that someone that is focused in the way I am has already been functioning on this level – but I’m here to tell you, it is a learned trait. It is really important to me that my  (Art)work and my life are able to coincide and then, on top of that, income created. These are not the same things. For so long I have been looking at these things as if they were the same, but it is 100% not, related- yes, the same, no. Art vs. Artistic. Period.

Where was I? OH right, The Void. This place is really uncomfortable, pretty much sucks for a while, as for it’s “agitating” qualities.

But, without this void, all is really nothing.

{image courtesy of Clean Socks Project}

On this day of one we have the chance to stand up, or fall down. On this day of one I am choosing to be me. To allow myself to fall into myself. To leave all this doubt and all this confusion behind so that I may contribute. To know where my passion is and to be in line with that, instead of always swirling around so many new ideas. Not that I want them to stop- I am just planning domestication of my convictions in order to cultivate them.

On this day of one, I feel awake. Astrologically things are “going my way” in a sense, and it is really helping me out- to actually feel “in tune” with life again in absolutely the greatest gift and I am turning this leaf over by not wondering when it will all fall away- as is my “habit” – this is me flicking my own forehead with my own middle finger “enough already”- and it is done.

On this day of one I find myself whole and upon this realization tears flow into my eyes- people can see me crying in this coffee shop, but yet I am smiling.

Day of ones.

Last night I exclaimed “I used to be a very motivated person, what happened to me?!?!” and I didn’t just say it, it burst out of me and took something with it. The sound reverberated around me, went back into my head and bounced around in there for a while until it echoed out my eyes and I became blinded by it. With that echo I stopped trying to work and sat. Quietly. Wondering how I can flow with this ocean of a persona I have and not drown in it. I have always been a very good swimmer, not fast but strong. I went to sleep this way- wondering. I woke up reminding myself that there really is no other way besides the unknown. No matter what I do.

Motivation. If I brought any of this up with any of my friends that I see regularly they all have a consistent response. Meditate. Yes, I know meditate. But what I am talking about is something different. So many people ponder “back in the day” as if what they did “back then” is something possible to “replicate”- well, it isn’t! and there is no reason to try that, this is a lesson I learned quite young- but most of the time art related …. But to apply this to my life- takes work- a certain other kind of motivation. So we have to “double up” in this now- digging around in there wondering- where this mess came from… and to top it all off, none of this actually matters. None of this is unique and none of it will make me die. Some of it causes an un-necessary amount of strife because of habit which can lead the way to some suffering – which is exactly where I don’t need to end up again.

So, motivation. To “build” it seems like some foreign language- there is a “drive” missing… shoved deep down… a “non bail out” clause that has to be enacted… and I do believe mine is found in Asana. That if there is one daily thing, it’s that- NOT drawing NOT photo – Asana

{pictured: Khristine Jones}

I am so pleased to be able to offer this new service!

I genuinely am so very pleased that my little studio is working for this!

That I can create a space from scratch and that it can work!

That people can come to my very own space, WE can create something, and they can leave happy!

That I have helped them in some way is such an added bonus, it’s one of those things that can not be explained- words sort of screw it up. Regardless, I am so happy to facilitate personal reflections in this way, each image carries it’s own energy and power and I am so happy to explore this with all of you!

Please, be in contact if you are in the area or will be in the next few months!

EVERY

Wednesday & Friday

Call to schedule!

Same day appointments!

Within 20 minutes and you can be in front of the camera!

415)577-4277

-If you would like to “pre” schedule you can by emailing through the website

http://www.faernworks.com/contact

The FaernWorks Studio is in the Mission neighborhood of San Francisco

100 Treat st. (@18^th st) Activspace #246

**If BOTH Wednesday & Friday do not work for you EVER PLEASE be in contact- I will happily offer other possible times

The past few days I have been carting around some new form of anxiety. It’s surprisingly not showing outwardly- maybe I’m finally learning the difference physiologically between excitement & anxiety…

Either way I believe it’s stemming from fumbling around the launch of my studio portraits. When I started this (opening my little studio) I knew what I was up against inside myself. That I am most definitely my own worst enemy. That I have to figure out most of what I am to do myself. That only I would be the one to make it work, or destroy it all. A conundrum at it’s finest…

So I stood quietly in the middle of my studio, surrounded by all of my equipment, my work, and took a moment to pray and thank. Because there really isn’t much else left to do when you are only up against your belief in the Self.

I knew going into this that I had created my perfect opponent- the one adversary that knows each weakness and each strength, knows each chemical and can undermine each moment of stability by simply cuing “instability”. The only way for this to work out is for me to understand this. But that is NOT saying that there is action in merely understanding the “problem”. The upswing here is that by quietly checking these things out I can see, first hand, how I created these things and that I can do something about it. AND that something is simple- when I start arguing with myself I stop and feel- which part of my system is activating…? And depending on the location, I have my answer … for now… and my personal power is there, regardless of my self-inflicted adversary of the Self.

{model: DeFalco}