Surprises

In the last few days, since my novel class has ended, I have allowed myself to play with painting. I bought some wood at Home Depot and began one of two paintings that I intended to be Valentines--even though Valentine's Day is over. I got the basic Valentine in place but when I painted in the arrow, it looked wrong. So to correct, I decided to cut out two more hearts out of the silk shirt I wore to a party Friday night (which I discovered had a hole in the sleeve ). So I added the two additional hearts and placed them over the arrow that looked wrong somehow. Then I needed to fix the arrangement of silk hearts because it wasn't so good, visually. And in the fixing I began adding things that looked a little narrative when I was done. One heart is dripping blue electric blood, one heart is aggressively crashing into another, and the third heart has absorbed the injuries of the second heart, and sustained its own, and is a complete chameleon, taking on the attributes of its surroundings instead of having a boundary around it. I totally enjoyed the process and I guess the piece is effective. It certainly communicates the reality of love gone awry. The three hearts could be various versions of 'love.' The next Valentine will be different, but the thing I took away from the process was how much I enjoyed it, even though the result was a depiction of negativity--I liked the flipping of the traditional image of a Valentine. Emotionally, my world has felt strangely disturbing, like the Valentine. Just things not being what they seem all the way around and feeling like I am in a funhouse perceptually. When I feel like this the best I can do is take a walk, or realize that what will really help is to get a handle on my diet. Something sort of zen and simple, like doing dishes.