On love in the face of impending loss.
1 July 2023 - Precariousness haunts the job of being an artist. Engaging in the generative process from that place is an heroic act of denialism, compartmentalization, or surrender. Maybe all three.
I am so scared right now. I am sitting in my beautiful studio, in heaven. A painting partially finished in front of me, the wood stove beside me. I am on the verge of losing everything. I am on the point of bankrupting my partner. I am on the verge of being thrown out of the country; my other partner thinks: we have to maintain an amount to stay here.
As I walk through the door to the studio, I think, “Hello, door. I love you so much.”
I will not hate looking around; how can I have anything but this moment? I won’t waste even a second in regret. (I feel you, anxiety, I feel you banging on my mind, but I won’t live in you or let you tell me how to feel.)
I will love love love this place like a tidal bowl of abundance, and at the same time, just in case, spend every last second tucked in bed next to my dying loved one. I will polish every leaf, she will expire full to bursting with the force of my love.
I’ve never loved like this before – it is perfect love – it’s the first time I’ve ever known myself and liked myself; this space is where I learned what I was, who I was, why I was, what I should do, how to do it, that I could do it, and that I can’t do anything else. At the end of it all, I finally exhaled and realized it was okay, I was okay, and yes, I could lay down my fear and get to work.
And then, our right to rent expired, and we ran out of money.
Now what?
I will say that in this moment, and it’s bracketed on either side by the galloping horses of fear and dread careening toward the cliff, as the sun penetrates the skylights and luxurious silence spreads out before me - mostly what I feel in this moment, is gratitude.
I love everything I learned. I feel so amazed as I sit here and realize I’m accidentally grieving, my love has welled up and I’m weeping at the impending loss: of how much love there is in this building, how much hard-won acceptance, me of myself and Tom of me and me of Tom, and us of each other. But mostly, I'm just learning to stop hating myself.
Realizing that I do have worth and that knowing that means that I can make work, not because you need worth to make work but because understanding that you have worth removes barriers to creation. Here. I learned this here, in this space, which is evaporating around me.
As I turn around, things will start disappearing, whoop: there goes the plants, there goes the couch like it is going to get erased. Is that okay? Is it time? Is there a way for it to transform? Can we keep it? Should we?
I have so much to do, and I am paralyzed to begin; beginning means the beginning of the end. I remember this. I watched Jungle Gym die. I knew it was going to happen in August. That’s what we are looking at. There’s no more money from anyone. I didn’t get it done in time. I moved our family here and sank us deep into debt.
And I don’t think I will make it before we lose everything. I’m healthy a few months now and getting strong as fast as I can, which means I can work more, but I’m years behind, I think. And we already fought so hard. But I proved it to myself: most of the time when I fight for myself, I win.
This is going to destroy my child. They have loss anxiety already. What and who am I exposing to this danger? Who am I fighting for and what is the cost?
I did that. I was willing to gamble on those questions.
I needed to close Rupture in December when I knew it. But then I wouldn’t have connected again with Wild Parlour and wouldn’t be showing, so I have no idea, its all intermingled - we need each other, and we all need a space devoid of judgment where we can talk to each other about our work. I can’t find it, so I made it.
I’m deadlocked in an evaporating heaven.
*addendum: two days after I wrote this, completely unexpectedly, I sold a painting, and saved the studio. The day after that, our historic VAT return came in and we paid off a lot of our debt. Now, I’m back in school, and another round of US student loans is floating us into the future. I was mourning a loved one who insists on living. And every time she rises, I grow, and heal.