After having spent a couple of weeks once more in this recurring episode of what I like to call my bride of frankenstein gig. . . undressed, sedated, i-ved. . .
. . .electrodes fastened to my temples,
I now find myself back to almost normal. . .
shoulder to wheel of this blog once more. . .
And just to update, I am happy to report there was still art. . .
in between the . . .uhm. . . treatments,
a painting in progress to come home to. . .
a commission to finish when that was done. . .
But in the meantime, I thought of Van Gogh and how he always painted
even in the hospital. . .
And thank god for him. ..and for Sylvia, who did this stuff without sedation. . .
and stayed around long enough to tell about it. . .
so you wouldn’t feel so all alone when it happened to you. . .
and as they won’t let you bring your easel along on such trips these days,
they take away your shoelaces too. . .
and the hours spent in such places can just be so very long,
with lots of time on your hands. . .
instead I got creative on the table tops, spreading out my feathers. . .brushes. . .collage paste. . .
to work on illustrations for Mary Ladd’s forthcoming book, “Heartbreaking the Astronaut.”
This piece in response to Mary’s poem, “Things my Inner Astronaut is Afraid Of,” a work filled with images of life on Mars. . . so I had lots to work with. . .lines like “herds of imitation Elvi,” “raindrops on roses,” and “sleeping alone.”
I will tell you more in future posts, how to obtain a signed copy of this image if you like it. . . just wanted to let you know I hadn’t abandoned you. . .I’m still here, still breathing. . . still making trouble.