diary shorts - portraits of a crazy
I got to my hotel in the dark last night. I had unexpected lay-overs and change of flights making the anticipation to arrive even greater. The black scape did not tempt me to explore, I was so exhausted my eyelids were shaking to stay open. I slept. On waking I was nervous to leave the room. I had a long shower and looked up the walking route to the studio so I had a mission but I faffed about for a while longer then I had to, knowing I was going to panic. I took a picture of myself thinking this was some kind of mammoth journey for me and this my first day should be captured.. the picture of before.
Got to Luxembourg gardens early, I enjoyed the whole strolling around the gardens but I am manic in my stride. I’m trying to push ideas. do some art, make it good art, yeah, think about that pond a little more, those chairs have interesting shadows..maybe I should paint chairs, yeah,....I'm thinking of all those people that have sat in the park and conversed in the summer months but now the gardens are empty and the chairs are left to converse on their own.. maybe they to think too much? I’m truely fighting it, fighting the thoughts. Its just a bowl of yarn messed up by a Facebook-esque kitten.
I skyped Mat. I cried, tears of overwhelmed tiredness and a connection. I cleaned the studio, re-arranged the furniture and took control of my surroundings as an avoidance of the fact I can’t control my emotional state.. I think it has helped. Today I will be aimless, I tell myself as I try to push all the false urgencies out of my mind.
I went to the Villa Savoye yesterday. Im not sure if my emotional response to this place was at all socially acceptable ... But I love this building..and when I say love my heart palpitated. my mouth watered, I wanted to be one with this building!! Every direction I turned there were lines and shapes so appealing, so visually engaging it overwhelmed all my senses. I felt consumed. ..every inch of this place is a painting, a sculpture, an epiphany. I always wondered how people could be so in love with Justin Bieber that they’d scream and cry, throw knickers at him and follow him around the world..I understand…
I feel the shell of my body.. I feel it as separate and as a container and also as an entrapment. If I could.. What would I. Inviolable truth/secret.
Drunk.. but thinking?? how nice it is to know no current affairs..Its not like they’re going to shock me we have daily horrendous attacks on humanity, donald trump is close to signing in..the world is shit so I’m embracing the bubble..
I love being here so much. I love the fairytale of not working and not owning shit but just being in this world. I love it so much it brings tears. I know its a privileged vacation but I so adore not having to deal with the everyday. It is a luxury. I miss connection with people but not hugely. I'm not really that personable unless its forced on me by work and so forth. Its possibly good its a short term residency because as much as I dread being by myself and my own thoughts I’m coming to realise I’m very simply an observer! well I think so. It may change tomorrow or the next hour thats the weird thing of being confined to self..
Haven’t written anything in a few days. Haven't been feeling well and refuse to write check out my snot entries.
Ive packed up, my suitcase is bulging! I am waiting for inventory inspection. Im feeling a little emotional well thats a lie, a lot emotional.. I really am trying not to cry before the staff get here!
Trees and architecture. Trees and squares. The romantic nature versus the brutal cubism. This odd connection between natures soft flowing forms and the hard edge brutalism of le Corbusier and well, man itself. How we strive to control and dominate but long for nature...
What happened in Paris. I am indeed a different person, I am still unsure how it has altered my being its just a knowing that I have shifted. My chemical makeup, my protons, my sequences of thought have been altered. I am shrouded by my existence here. I am covered and constrained by my awareness of how I can be. I am alone. and I want to be alone. I am tired of the ritual of the everyday, the ritual of art, the ritual of those I know, of those I don’t know. The strangers that buy the same coffee every morning from the same shop. I am them too..I am the ant scurrying with messages back to the nest to inform the way is clear or blocked, There is danger, but you are safe to continue..