Speak to the Space

sounds of space

I’ve made a lot of progress today on my painting. I was motivated into action at 5am. I felt clear and open. I had space. Space to receive and manifest in the moment. Inspiration combined with the NYC heat had awakened me from my slumber. Shit it’s hot! I struggled with putting the fan in the window, wanting to hop over to it but grabbed my crutches instead; I certainly did not need another fall. Jay overheard the familiar clank-hop, clank-hop, clank-hop of my step, asked if I was okay and declared that I had awaken him “with all of that banging…” We giggled and I had apologized for the noise, but it felt like a sauna in my room and I was determined to get the cool air from outside combined with the fan to circulate through the space. He agreed, it was hot!

 

I examined the floor; contemplated my actions and strategized on how I would need to navigate within the space. Next I set the mood, selected a playlist on Spotify. I chose Moses Sumney because I wanted to connect with the cosmos. His raspy voice combined with acoustic melodies, breathy notes and astral pauses is otherworldly.  As I met the floor to sit, I had a moment of gratitude. Grateful for the dullness of the pain and the ability to sit comfortably with my leg slightly propped up. I decided I would focus on completing a small section of this floor size painting. I had taken my time with each stroke. The repetitious action of the strokes becomes therapeutic. My hands crave the motion. Even in this moment I have the urge to do more.

After an hour of painting, I decided to take a break, journal on what had erupted from the experience, reflect and release on what comes up. Clear space within me to manifest more. I took the time to elevate my leg and meditate. Images of my next steps for this piece emerge in my psyche. The painting never truly reveals what it will become. The images come in stages, and at every stage a new part exposes itself to me. This is the conversation I have with my art. It’s ritualistic and healing. I am eager for the next step, however it is not in my control.  I am the student of the Painting, a servant to it.  I submit to it, learn from it, heal from it.  It engulfs me, haunts me and I become obsessed with it. We are entangled until its completion.