I am still working on this painting in the studio. Working in the studio has been a little bit of a challenge, I think because I have been without one for a couple years now and started to get used to working from home again, but the more I spend time in the new space, the more I like it. I just can’t do it in my pajamas. There is good and bad in that. It’s better for me to get out of the house or else I seem to get stuck there and never want to leave. But it’s good to have the separate space so I can leave all the distractions from home where they belong. Not having a phone or an internet connection there also helps with that. I just work straight through the hours and get more done.

This last year has been the most unproductive time I have ever had as a visual artist. I am finally starting to get back into the swing of it all, but I am still working many less hours a day as I did before my father’s death. This is due to partially being stressed out, depressed and traumatized combined with the fact that my dad was really my muse. I didn’t know that until he was gone, and since I made such peace with him before he passed, there’s really no chip on my shoulder to prove to him that I am worth something. I know I’m worth something now, I just don’t know what I’m worth or what I really want to convey in my work anymore.  So far I’ve gotten by with not thinking about it and just letting the work develop itself. That sounds odd, but I really don’t feel like I am directing a thing. Really, I guess I never did. Who makes the work is truly beyond me. I’m just pretty sure it’s not me making this stuff. I can’t defend it or explain it in most instances, so don’t bother asking.

This piece is obviously an ofrenda to my parents. An altar, if you will. It is the first thing I started when I moved into the studio and I have a hard time working on it because of what it is. Today I got a good 5 hours in, but I won’t really be back to it until Thursday. That is, unless my social plans fall through tomorrow (today). As I write this, it’s 2AM and I should really be in bed snoring. Instead, I’m here talking to you. And do you listen to a word I say? There you sit, staring at the screen — but are you really hearing the words? You shouldn’t be. They are not important. What’s important is how you walk through the fire.


(still in progress.)

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