I’ve been in deep self-study as my year comes to a close. The High Holidays came early and it seemed like — heh, who am I kidding? It didn’t seem like anything. It was. I did: I got into a manic state of working just before Erev Rosh Hashanah. I worked on the new book, Carol Es une Monographie de Lignes. I worked on it before all of Houses were bound. I re-wrote my statement for my new gallery’s website. I applied for a grant. I wrote an essay as a submission for a small press publication, which then turned into a brand new project — a 26 page chapbook called Today’s Quandary. And I plan to release that one even sooner than the new book.
Then, I walked through the doors of my shull and I listened to my Rabbi speak. I started to feel a little different when I came home that night sometime around 11:00. And then the next morning, I thought about how Alicia is coming back into my life – I didn’t announce this, did I? She is! Soon. And I thought about what she is going to think about Outside the Lines. I pictured us working in it together with colored pencils.
While watching this video that Souris posted on her Tiny Iron Fists site, I could almost remember being that age. It reminded me of my very first contact with art, and how amazingly excited I was then.
I have scattered memories: brief, fuzzy flashes of being very, very young, trying to grip the crayon. But what I remember most was a kind of limitless feeling. Art was limitless. That, and growing excitement in my belly. I think I was experiencing happiness. Real, true happiness.
Oh no, I’m going to cry.