Friday, October 10

The Day Off

A slow rise Thursday morning. Reading, bathing in warm water, lavender oil and mint tea (yeah, that is how I do), taking my time finishing off my raisin bran and raspberries.

I'm seeking art, inspiration, a better idea of the community and if there's space for me. (There is, if I want it.)

The grey in the sky turned to you-can-do-anything blue.

I've been thinking that it would be important to come to some sort of resolve about how I love and who I love and what I love, how I create and what I create out of this love. Happiness will enter and leave and enter and leave again. But giving and receiving love can be an endless action. So this is what I'm working with. And on, and for.

But I worry, how do I lovingly speak to some about their ignorance? I'm not talking about syrupy sweet words and smiles. I mean how do I say, with loving intentions, don't touch me uninvited or call me out my name or give me a box to squeeze into but get mad when I don't fit?

I went to Mike's studio to see the photographs he took of me. I really like them. He cleaned up some of my scars, but not too much, as they are very much a part of how I choose to be perceived, I told him.

I bought a journal, two pairs of sparkling earrings, a shrimp burrito. Then rode the train uptown with M to listen to Kehinde Wiley speak about his art at the Studio Museum. Thelma Golden is sweeter than I imagined her to be. I discovered a lot of what Kehinde said matched the conclusions I'd drawn about his work on my own. I've been adoring his paintings for three years, but I especially love the portraits he did for "World Stage: Africa, Lagos ~ Dakar", and look forward to what he brings out of Brasil and Ethiopia and Israel.
Such knotty perceptions of skin and gender. Who would we be untangled?

?uest insists that "something has got to give" (via Racialicious), but I wonder who should be deciding what will give and when? When will the perceptions we don't own ourselves matter much, much less?

It makes sense that M and I ended our day off work walking out of a spot because the "entertainer" on stage begin to project his boring, foolish ideas about skin color and black hair and women in general onto the audience.

born in babylon both nonwhite and woman/what did i see to be except myself? - L. Clifton (thanks, Njoroge)

There are some ideas in my mind, every day they get a little more solid and I get a clearer vision of how to make them tangible. I know what's going on the walls, in the frames, and on the body, (and in it!), but I'm still not too sure about what's going on the page - and right now, that's what I'm most interested in.
But it'll come.

I won't list resolutions here, but I should say I'm finally on my way.


pomegranate queen said...

"but I'm still not too sure about what's going on the page - and right now, that's what I'm most interested in.
But it'll come."

yes it will. and this is the kind of writing that grips me. beautiful beautiful beautiful. thank you for sharing.

Anonymous said...

I love, love, love, Kehinde.

Formidable painter. I actually work at SMH so I'm particularly proud of that show. Kehinde was one of our artists-in-residence. But I'm sure you know that!