Reworking of a piece entitled 'Exit Through the Wound'
This original work started out as a piece in a current series related to my pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela, but something about it really kept aggravating my core. Since it grew quite irksome, I decided the best way to release that sensation was to ugly it up by scribbling all of the other ugly things in the world or in my past that brought interior discord.
Next comes the really gratifying part of painting all over it whatever calls out the most.
Starting to get muddied and murky as prone to do.
Really began to feel some interior relief and movement. A shift in perception.
As a consequence, this feeling compelled me to write the word 'holy' all over the canvas and over the wounds. In part as an ask for healing and understanding how these wounds can be made (as in be seen as holy in a manner that promotes forgiveness) and in part as an homage to Patti Smith who paid homage to Ginsberg.
After a few days of reworking the frustration mounted as this piece wasn't manifesting according to my vision or when it acted like it might, I invetiably did something to muck it up AGAIN. So I took a scrapper to the whole thing like a colossal picking at scabs and let it bleed overnight.
The next morning, I approached it from a different angle. One of determination. impatience and demand. Heal damnit.
Eventually something started to take shape, but it felt forced and too close to the original image. Humans love to do this sometimes as we grow: start to bloom while continuing to cling to old patterns of growth and ways of being. There is comfort in our discomfort, but this wasn't going to work. Something drastic needed to happen.
So, it went dark and I cried out to the heavens.
Had to learn to sit with the discomfort. The discomfort of the piece in an uglier phase than when initially started, uglier than the phase where there was the encouragement of something new and all of the ugliness in general of my frustration with this piece, the world at large and especially women's place in it. So, I let myself fume for a bit and eventually cooled.
Stayed up until well past midnight sitting with it until forced to explore deeper and try something different. In my exhaustion, I whipped out the molding paste and smeared its goopy loveliness all over the canvas and went to bed.
The light looked very different in the morning.
Queens of Heaven
In order to create sometimes you must destroy. In order to heal you must learn to live with the scars.