I'm coming to the end of my Manchurian trilogy (the last of the three books to be published next year in graphic novel format), which I've worked on for twenty years. It is my obsession no longer, nor do I owe the unrequited ghosts of my ancestors the labor of my heart and pen.
I was obsessed this week in defining what truly obsesses me today. I would say I am obsessed with keeping life in balance, not to lean over the edge because, like a cartoon character, I've managed to go over cliff multiple times and live.
It's not surprising that I continue to return to the theme of Chinese acrobats, tumblers, cups and dishes arching in their fall. I am an artist, a shaman of sorts. I can make objects pause--stop in midair. They are tugged by gravity, but they never strike the ground and splinter in smithereens.
One of the first acrobat paintins I did in the early 90's.
Many years of my adult life has been a rescue operation. As I approach my 50th birthday, I no longer want to be picking up the pieces, over and over again. I am obsessed with protecting my solitude, so I can continue to paint and write. I am obsessed with not allowing abusive people into my life--users, killjoys, the complainers, the violent and the insecure/narcissistics--to waste a fraction of a second in the remainder of my days.
A piece I just finished for Hauk Fine Arts. I love this one.
This piece painted three or four years ago.
I wrote the following poem to go with the above image:
when I arrive at equilibrium
forces tumble arrangement
stack them again for
handstand on edifice
juggle rice bowls with feet
swivel midair and
land softly on
I see a vast space opening out in rays of light as I travel into the years, befriended by my own companionable imagination.
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