stir up from eggs
million wing-beats per minute
TV snow washes away
to bring clarity
heat in legs/heels/ankles
echoes way down deep
in gut a glowing
magma spills out
from cracks below ocean
at the edge of earth's crust
this volcanic self this blaze
late night retro-Japanese horror mouth
large and looming
ghost haunting phantom
from my belly to beyond
I blubbery salamander
working way through creek
transform as I go.
Extend hands reaching out,
form body against algae.
Thank you, bits of green
under toes, soft and wet
your coat of mud
between webbed fingers.
I duckweed up above
shine like granny smith.
Cover the density of me
against water surface
A spidery silken scarf
Beneath my rubber leaves
--that look slimy but are not--
watch frog/tad beauties
and salamander friends
--that are slimy but look slick
Wrap ourselves inside ourselves.
Watch friend salamander
coax down grey rock.
I myself have faster swim.
Spend time in stillness
zip along racing through creeks.
Bend legs and arms
Swish tail, turn bulbous head
burrowing in lacing mass.
One day will emerge.
Spend days on stone on pad.
Rapid plops in/out water,
flash tongue shooting,
will make up for
heavy gust of rain
tongue tied nerves
blustery clouds in spring
fallout days in summer
a pair of dry lips
lost puppy eyes
suck leeches from my knees
watch glacier bits fall from sugar white pastures
those ways are thawing
watch the drip
let out ragged bleats
this morning I rise with full eyes in bloom
a thick loaf of sourdough
a scrunched up forehead
bloated right now
bear fruit out my eyes
giant worms on fish hooks
all we ever seem to do is wake
our names in our chests
that room of stiff bodied people
and wild green outside
flick of lips
when she opened her mouth
and a squeak came out
the charged nature of everything here/now
back bent at screen
blue flowers grew up on either side with little saplings
bombastic voices surrounding park bench
her throat clearing
broad skies and clouds
skinny wisps of white
the building bricks like Marlboro Reds
smoked packs a day those years
something she was good at
Art shows me the world I want to see, reveals how I want to live.
The process of making art teaches me to live better.
Putting creations into the world helps me express
what's going on inside me, in my life, what I observe in this world, my beliefs
when I find it impossible to do so face to face.
By sharing the work I make, I can make myself vulnerable
in a way that opens me up to connect with others through empathy,
and them to each other.
When I see art that inspires me, I am reminded of our condition,
our world, the irrevocable sense of beauty and truth in each moment.
pay attention to how skin lays over bones
laugh at jokes
let the desert sand tension
into rhino's tough hide
to feathery gossamer
what animal am I now?
look people in the eye
when we talk
listen with whole body
there is time for planning
and there is time for presence
do all literary images
taste like paper?
chuck out those bones
those compost roots
make garbage sandwiches
out of banana peels
this epic spring
to the bottom
how bout I
nap for a
black haired man
no teeth grin
in the driver's seat
mop up blood
on the highway track
where we lose the threads
side by side
block the wind
while one lights a smoke
four years kid
aches for mom
screams deep incision
muscles crawl, running
catch my breath
That still apply today...
March 23, 2016
Panic does not accelerate productivity.
Slowing down helps me see with more attention and sustained focus.
There is great creative power in waiting and in doing nothing.
Wandering opens up as many ideas as spaciousness.
Taking a long time on a project can help me go big with it.
I can still pump out material, generate new work and experiment
with several improvised pieces a day.
The process is becoming about the long haul.
How I sustain, how I balance out the creative, the professional, the personal.
We handle grief in innumerable ways.
The ways I handle grief over time changes.
Opening up, taking down walls and allowing for vulnerability
makes way for connection.
It's uncomfortable to be vulnerable.
The discomfort zone is where learning happens, where magic happens.
I can only sit for so long without upsetting my body and brain
for the rest of the day.
I need to move and find new positions for myself
in order to engage holistic learning, teaching and making.
I am a total maniac.
I know how to make massive quantity, how to write a lot and create a ton,
and that is an exquisite practice to have under my belt,
but now my challenge is learning to do less
and in that way do better.
I have a mountain of experience under me
and when I don't recognize that,
I stand tiptoe on top of that peak,
unbalanced, about to fall to bottom.
I am privileged in many ways. Marginalized in a few.
I can walk into a room recognizing the areas
in which I am privileged
and use those to help lift up
the marginalized in the room.
Instead of listening for contention or to interrupt,
listen for understanding.
Pay attention to a room --
Does someone need to step forward?
Does someone need to step back?
Reflection is as important as planning and acting.
When questions drive the work,
the work creates more questions.
We can explore deeper to make those questions better all the time.
At the roots of everyone's work are a few core questions.
Finding out what drives us means asking
what enrages, inspires, makes us curious, brings us joy, makes us laugh
and then tapping into those answers.
Generating material is only the first part --
then comes reworking, redrafting, feedback, queering, showing, rewiring...
All the parts that play with the work take the longest.
That final 5 percent it takes to finish a work really does take 95 percent of the time.
A play that taps into shared perversity is more compelling
than one that investigates psychological motivations.
Asking where am I? each moment
can bring deeper awareness and presence
and is an easy way to slip back into a conscious mind frame
when the spinning option steals my breath.
Finding ONE thing, one focus at every given moment
leads to greater groundedness in the work.
I know what I'm doing.
I'm on the path to creating a lifelong process that works well for me.
Great art has roots and reach.
Process notes on a work in progress. This page serves to invite you into the way I work, with intermittent posts to show you the hows and whys on the whats I make, as well as prompts and ideas I bring to certain workshops. There will also be some raw, rough content found in notebooks written years ago, previously posted on: