First full day off of work since I started the longest/biggest letter (18" x 24", approximately 1800 letters) for the series and I've already put a good 4, 5 hours into it. And finally, I decided to put my wrist brace on. It slows me down, but it doesn't stop me. And fine, I'm old enough to try to take care of myself.
Here's a photo, because it's awesome.
I'm determined to finish this piece today. It's called "Exit Strategy." Or "Exit Strategy I" because most likely (if I like the way it looks) there will be several more of these in the same dimension.
and, FUCK YOU CARPAL TUNNEL!
Thank you though, Life for making tragedy as beautiful as any other Beauty you've got in you.
Edit- Sunday 4:00 p.m. FINISHED. Finally. Turns out it takes way more than 12 hours to do a letter this size. Good to know. (Horrible photo...)
"I really believe that if I were not a writer, not a creator, not an experimenter, I might have been a very faithful wife. I think highly of faithfulness. But my temperament belongs to the writer, not to the woman. Such a separation may seem childish, but it is possible. Subtract the over-intensity, the sizzling of ideas, and you get a woman who loves perfection. And faithfulness is one of the perfections. It seems stupid and unintelligent to me now because I have bigger plans in mind. Perfection is static, and I am in full progress. The faithful wife is only one phase, one moment, one metamorphosis, one condition."
-Anaïs Nin
Leave it to Anaïs to always speak my truth. If I were not an "artist" (or whatever I am) I would simply be the best wife (when I am.) It's a juggle and even more so a struggle. Often Sometimes I get a bit sad about it because all I want other than Art is to be a wife and a mother. But no one needs a crazy wife and no child should have a crazy mother. So we yes, move on.
My first painting in a long, long, long time (in progress and taken with a shitty phone camera) My first self-portrait in a long, long, long time as well. I guess, it just was time.
The piece is called "Here Comes the Fucking Bride." I'm in a wedding hanbok and will of course get the red dots on my cheeks like a good bride should.
"For his faithfulness, I give him my imagination. Even my talent, if you will." -A.N.
Here are some lines I've underlined in the last couple pages I've read in Henry Miller's The Books In My Life. I'm taking lot longer than usual to finish this book, but the great thing about this book is that it (or Henry) does not demand you "finish" it. It simply wants to be there for you, and for you to pick it up when you can really absorb and be with it. And I, certainly love and appreciate it so much more for it.
"All these critical and interpretive studies of authors so vitally important (to us) are made in our own interest, I believe. Our labors only serve to make us better understand ourselves. Our subjects seldom need our defense or our brilliant interpretations. Usually they are dead by the time we get to them. As for the public, I am more and more convinced that "they" too need less and less assistance or instruction; it is more important, I do believe, for them to struggle on their own.
As for Joyce, certainly I am indebted to him. Certainly I was influenced by him. But my affinity is more with Lawrence, obviously. My antecedents are the romantic, demonic, confessional, subjective types of writers."
"We do not ask of one who opens our eyes by what authority he acts; we do not demand his credentials. Nor should we be forever grateful and reverent towards our benefactors, since each of us has the power in turn to awaken others and does in fact do so, often unwittingly. The wise man, the holy man, the true scholar, learns as much from the criminal, the beggar, the whore, as he does from the saint, the teacher, or the Good Book."
I started a painting today. WOW. What a feeling. I haven't painted in months, I absolutely adore my drawings and drawing itself, but it's so different. It's the most sensual act, experience. The feeling of brush laying (oil) paint on the canvas... The way it looks, the way it sits, glistens, smells, so alive and wet.
Drawings are my children, painting is my Lover.
A song for a Lover-
The body breaks and the body is fine I'm open to yours and I'm open to mine The body aches and that ache takes its time But you'll get over yours and I'll get over mine And the sun will shine And the moon will rise The body calls Yeah the body it calls out It whispers at first but it ends with a shout The body burns Yeah the body burns strong Until mine is with yours Then mine will burn on My flesh sings out It sings come put me out The body sways like the wind on a swing A bridge through a hoop Or a lake through a ring The body stays and then the body moves on And I'd really rather not dwell on when yours will be gone But within the dark There is a shine One tiny spark That's yours and mine...
I've begun translating my first book. On page 3 of a 276 page book. Call it ambitious, call it crazy, I call it Love and Devotion. This isn't so much a series, but a life long project. I want to translate all of her works (Anais Nin) and between her diaries and novels, well let's say it will take my whole life. It's paying homage, it's saying thanks. Her words are so beautiful, I know my translation of them into colors can't do them true justice, but the years and the work I put into them, will be the least I can do.
(left side, translated. right side, in progress)
(this page you can see the faint letters written in pencil)
Michelle Jane Lee’s art is minimalist in form yet muscular in content. There is a complexity, density; to put it simply, there is a lot of heart in her often times sparse drawings and paintings.
She is about going back to the moment of childhood possibility before our imaginations become impoverished and our options seemingly circumscribed. Her work reminds us that things could be different, if only we are brave enough to embrace the free fall, letting go of all of our prosthetics that keep us from realizing our freedom.
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