There have been many thoughts of escape running through my mind of late. A natural reaction to the primal fear this disease is causing, I think. I have always been an escapist, a dreamer, prone to flights of fancy. This image is one of my dreams, soaring across turbulent seas, racing the wind!
Home, a place I used to run away from. (Doe, a deer, a female deer…) It felt like Prison to my adolescent heart that yearned for escape. From all the anger and bitterness, all the dislike we harbored for each other. And run I did, but still tethered to the safety net of a Mother I could manipulate at will, whether begging for money or just an ear to listen to my endless apologies.
. I think back now, to the men I chose to give myself to. The one I nearly married, who hit me in the face with a board, ripped my clothes off in front of his friends, and shouted loud enough for the world to hear, that I was a dirty whore. This man I idolized. I told anyone who would listen what a he-man he was, an ex-Marine, so well built and strong.
Threatening me with a beating, he would make me approach other women in bars, to recruit them for sex with him while I watched. My gut turns now at the shame I felt. It mars me still, even though he died 25 years ago by his own hand. I cried for him, the pain he must have been in to do such a thing. But I had so little sympathy for myself. The abuse had been “my fault”. If I had only done a better job at loving him, perhaps he wouldn’t have done it.
. I have gone down into this Rabbit Hole of flashbacks again. Images of the painful abuse of my ex-husband haunt me as if they happened yesterday. It has been 4 days now, writhing in the Muck of my past, no energy to drag myself out, hoist myself up. I just lie abed washed over by the pain, remembering the burning need to have a man to own. Even if that meant I would burn with jealousy when he flaunted his exploits with other women. No , I even told my best friend that I had really scored a live one, “a real criminal”!! I was so foolish, and so proud.
. I hope this immobility passes soon, so that I can put away these thoughts, put them back into the Pandora’s box and slam shut the lid. I will then be able to face the world, at least for a while.
Hello, my friends. I am hoping that you are doing well, enduring this Pandemic with a sense of inner peace and compassion for other human beings. Now is a time when I pull on all my strength from sources I have long depended on to get me through major trauma and trials. My love of my Higher Power, and the help He sends when I need and ask for it, and the resources He provides bring me a feeling of security. My own Father, although I loved him to an unreasonable degree judging by his treatment of all of the family, was not a dependable source of comfort. Neither was my poor Mom, as I recall. But that’s a story for another day.
. Today I feel expansive, compassionate: I even feel kindly to my twenty-five year old sickly cat, Fogerty, who tries every day to vomit on my devices. (If I dwell on that I will feel less warm and fuzzy…) No, really…I spent time thinking deeply today about others, lonely, broken and feeling frightened by forces many don’t comprehend. To those deep in the throes of Poverty and Addiction, those scarred by Abuse and/or Mental Illness. Their world have always been full of fear and pain, for many the sweet slumber of death could be called Mercy. I know I thought this when I numbered among the dizzy throng, a head and heart ravaged by self loathing and dreadful cravings for release.
. This global situation will undoubtedly bring nothing but more suffering heaped upon their broken backs. Now even those clinging by fingernails to the ends of ropes tied to basic necessities may lose their tentative hold, and fall into abject Poverty’s gaping, slathering visage. Oh, dear me! I fear I have strayed into poetic dismay! All I really wanted to say is that I feel our collective pain, acutely.
. Today I am sharing my art of finding discarded, forlorn and unloved furniture, cookwear and debris and making it cool again. That’s what we all ultimately want to be: Cool…and cherished.
. Thanks for listening.
I really meant to add a bunch I’m working on as we speak, but got very tired…sorry…
Shall I call it “UNBAGGING”? I told you that you would never guess my source photo, in the last post’s images. Well here it is:
. Here’s the deal: I was ready to take Kleo for her daily walk, mask on, prepared to face the outside world. I had just finished watching (another) horrible newscast about the indescribable suffering going on all around the world. They had pinpointed the lack of PPE(initials we now know by heart that stand for Personal Protective Equipment), and the total disregard for life being shown by leaders who shall remain nameless,. The glaring situation that faces those on the frontlines who work to save the sick and dying was very much on my mind, so when Kleo and I stepped onto the street I was shocked by what I saw.
. Up and down my street, in front of every house, were little pink plastic bags, big enough to slip a hand into. And they held a single folded newsprint page with a small sheaf of advertisements tucked inside. I had been upset by these exo-system destroying little plastic bags before, being tossed all over the ground by secret eco terrorists each night under the cover of darkness. I mean- No ONE HAD ASKED FOR THESE! NO ONE HAD ORDERED THESE, OR REQUESTED THEY BE SCATTERED ALL OVER CREATION!!!!
Well , excuse me, there was SOMEONE…
Like I said, this had already bothered me, but now? NOW?!?
. I had just viewed nurses in New York City going to work using “gloves” fashioned using sterilized newspaper bags, shopping bags ( using clean garbage bags for goodness sakes) to shield themselves, and their CHILDREN, AND PARENTS, AND STAFF, AND NEIGHBORS, AND YOU AND ME from the virus!!! So here I was, rushing up and down the street, very angry, very sad, and self-righteous over this waste. I wanted to SCREAM AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS AT THE INJUSTICE OF IT ALL!!
I may actually have screamed something, or at least shouted into my frayed cloth mask, which successfully muffled my words…I marched home with Kleo falling behind, tilting her head curiously, as if to say, “Mommy, I didn’t poop yet!?!”.
I paid her no mind, but kept up my March all the way to my couch where I threw the offending bags on my couch, and made an angry video about the whole mess of emotions I was feeling!
. Then I watched said video, and the old, grouchy Lady with the pink bandana (who was wielding pink plastic bags like a weapon) -well, she just looked pathetic. Very Ineffective.
Therefore I did what artists do best:I made meaningful art, and in doing so I made a statement, a loud statement… A SHOUT FROM THE ROOFTOPS, A SCREAM AT THE TOP OF MY PHOTO EDITING VOICE!!!
“HERE YOU MONSTERS! Here you UNTHINKING BOOBS!!!!” “SEE WHAT I THINK OF YOU!!”
“THERE WILL BE A RECKONING” Because my friends, it’s not up to me with my little pictures… No, the GREATEST ARTIST, the One True God, says in the BIBLE
” …AND HE WILL BRING TO RUIN THOSE RUINING THE EARTH!”, Revelation 11:18B
. Now with the situation reframed, and with me letting go of a job that my Higher Power is doing, way, WAY better than I ever could, I can be happy again. I can use the little pink bags for doo-doo bags for my Ragamuffin Dogs, and be eco-illiterate myself…or, I can make a collage with them and use the adverts also! Ooooo, this will keep me going till nightfall, anyway!!! Then I will have to search for a new, fresh bee to toss into my bonnet! Another vital quest for justice for little furry creatures!!!
. ONWARD, AND UPWARD MY FRIENDS! Let us keep pushing on to better tomorrows!!!
Can you dig it? I am sure most all of you can, gentle readers. You can probably deduce from my latest posts that my creative powers seem rather discombobulated. I would have to agree with you. The “SITUATION” certainly has a dampening effect on my spirit; whereas I used to force myself to get around people and interact for my mental health, now I have more than enough reason to stay home. The guilt I feel for staying up all night still pokes me in the side in the morning (oh, wait a minute, that was my teddy bear), however, I just take a swig out of my water glass, roll over and bury my face in Kleo’s furry belly and drift happily back to dreamland.
. I did try to do better, by getting ready for bed before 3am , which is good for me. I hit a groove in my art practice, which does usually happen around 2-3, and was looking up images of pelicans for a study I’m going to do. I was VERY mature and turned off all my devices and went to bed. Then I laid there, in agony, on that horrible verge of wakefulness and sleep. This happens when my pain patch wears out and my muscle relaxer can’t keep me far enough under to rest. So I feel like a throbbing thumb you just smashed with a hammer that is now buried in hot quicksand… Everything in s-l-o-w-m-o-t-i-o-n…except the p-a-i-n…
. I have been letting myself go, and allowing my house to get (very) messy…Even though they talk on the news about food running out, I can’t get myself to go to the store…I will when the dogs need food, I guess. All I want to eat is chocolate and ice cream, maybe a few Doritos in between to cleanse my palate… I allowed myself to vent by creating this:
I also made these :
And you will never believe what I originally photographed to create these works! That will give YOU something to do for a few minutes!
Dear Friends, I woke up this morning believing the world was fine, normal. I had no thought of a world on lockdown for a few fleeting seconds.
. Then, as was wont to happen after my Mom’s death, the awful reality came down on my brain like a sledgehammer. It did actually stop me in my tracks in the hallway. A punch in my tummy that brought me fully awake: My world was indeed shuttered and sheltered in place. I couldn’t dash down to the donut shop to drink coffee and chat with friends, I could not go over to my elderly Auntie’s and give her a gentle hug.
Regaining my bearings , and with a profound feeling of sadness , I finished my way down the hall to the kitchen. However, there was no longer any wind in my sails. I was just tired…”bone” tired, as they say in Carolina . My aim for the day now seemed to just be sleep, sleep and forget, sleep and dream of a new world, free from death.
Suddenly I remembered I had to be somewhere! I hurried to hook up to my Sunday Meeting on Zoom, which took enormous effort as I had only 13 minutes to prepare. I washed and put on a dressin rapid-fire succession , drank a glass of milk and flew over to my chair, just as the meeting started! Now I was with friends and loved ones. With gratiude in my heart I lifted my voice in song, then bowed my head in prayer-thanking God for the sacrifice He made by sending His Son Jesus to die as a criminal. To give His perfect Son so that we humans could have a chance to live forever and see our dead loved one’s raised from the dead to join us a perfect world.
. My mind now soothed, my thinking set right, the day was now on track. Yes, I did go back to sleep afterwards, but it was a nap free from dread, and full of hope. My creativity freed, my imagination is no longer on lockdown. I will paint my way through this, and the light of hope will shine thru in my art!
I don’t know about you , but I’ll starting to feel it…It’s like a weak electric current close to the floor , strengthening as each day passes… More awful news, more isolation and “distancing”-the current gets a little stronger moving to the top of my legs now. I’m getting antsy, and even though I have learned how to cope much better with my Bipolar Disorder-the tension is here. Little headache-y, a little grouchy, a little jumpy…
. Stress makes me hungry, and tired: I slept all day. All day. I didn’t go to bed before 6a.m., but still. One reason I’m getting stir crazy is because I’ve been told to stay home, just like everyone, and oooooh, its aggravating to be told to do anything…But I want to help save lives, and I am happily doing it. However, Bipolar mood swings really seem to occur more when I’m isolated. The undercurrent of sadness and negativity makes me want to eat poptarts, watch murder mysteries and worry…
I know what I must do: Work. On something-on anything, just like when I was in jail. If I have a project , something to engross myself in, then the anxiety can’t grow. If I don’t feed the elephant hourly negative news updates then maybe it will leave the room. Just like my Kiko-Dog does when he realizes the lunchmeat is all gone…
. This is the perfect time, as day blends into day, to start on all the furniture projects I have scattered in every room of my house. I am foregoing jello molds for a while, and instead working on tables, chairs, lamps, headboards, murals on my sheds, my laundry room, in my bathroom and all over my back fence!
. I placed a huge order to Jerry’s Artarama, counting on my free Government Virus Check to pay for it. So instead of chewing the inside of my lip, I can do this:
And this:
And these:
Hopefully I won’t wig out , because my mind and hands will be making beauty, soothing my mania, and preparing me for a future of unimaginable wealth when I sell all thus stuff !!!!
Just a thought: I never want to seem insensitive to the pain and suffering of my fellow man. Not during these trying days, nor ever… But for me, for my sanity in coping with my own mental health issues, and depressive and manic upswells during stress, I MUST STAY POSITIVE. As an individual with PTSD, Rapid Cycling Bipolar Disorder and Complex Grief , it means my very life. This is my health regimen. My art frees me, my voice strengthens me, my faith saves me… I hope someone out there can glean a small token of comfort from the routines that help me, or from the art I create. Let’s keep pushing on! And, oh, by the way, my art is for sale! Yup, it really is!
*and don’t forget, if you need cheering up…there are always puppies!
The awful Pandemic we are living thru today reminds me of when I contracted Chicken Pox as an adult. While not nearly as deadly as Covid-19, I was very ill. I had a fever of 102.5 for a few days and extreme discomfort from the lesions(pox) that burst forth all over my body, in my mouth and everywhere else.
This was a particularly distressing time, as my Mom was in the latter stages of her battle with Colo/Rectal Cancer. She was frail, sick from Chemo , but with the heart of an angel. Her loving hands bathed my fever wracked body with rubbing alcohol, which was an enormous relief. The experience of her loving ministrations makes me weep to this day, 10 years later.
. Our Earth’s entire population of human’s is being ravaged by a deadlier virus, much deadlier. Bombarded with mis-information and outright lies, we are being toyed with by callous and profit obsessed leaders. And many of us “regular” folk are feeling betrayed, for we were raised to believe the power’s that be would save us from any danger, whether foreign of domestic . Why, there have always been new drugs advertised for any and every ailment that we had never even heard of, being touted and mass marketed in the middle of our prime time TV series! So what a dumbfounding shock to learn that our country has no plan, no surefire way to rally the population in a morale inflating mission to help every single citizen by a national united leadership.
I am SO GLAD that I don’t depend on anyone but my Creator in these devastating times. No, God is not the cause if this disease, and He will ultimately be vindicated and the whole world will be a peaceful paradise with no sickness, no death and no mourning or pain. I have found so much comfort and hope in the Bible, I hope that you can also.
One great way is to visit the website JW.org, where you can learn about God, his perfect Son, Jesus Christ, and about God’s promises that will come true. Today, April 7th , 2020 at 7:30pm Eastern Standard Time, is the Anniversary of the “Last Supper”. Jesus commanded that this meal be commemorated ever year, which you can participate in tonight. Just visit the website , JW.org and learn about God’s perfect son, Jesus, and how he gave his life to save all of us. To forgive all of our sins, and to help us learn how to live forever. Thanks for listening with an open mind, I hope you find the love and comfort the only our Creator can give.
(this short video is made up of photos in the public realm that I compiled in video format. Same with the music…)
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Out of the Gutter Art 
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