These are drawings that I made in January 2012. That seems like such a short time ago. I can remember making these, every detail a slow-motion blur. I can remember feeling so weak and powerless back then. I felt like there were threats all around me. I wasn't a good enough this. Or that. Or person. Or artist. What crap. What lies we tell ourselves.
So, my one true thing I've become really good at is seeing someone for who they are. I look for the plastic quotient and believe it or not, it shows up in some surprising places. There is a photo circulating the internet about a bird who digested a bunch of plastic. The irony was the fact that he or she didn't live anywhere near anything plastic. It lived on an island. Well, I don't live on an island (though sometimes you've got to think it would be nice) but I do know a pile of plastic sh*t when I see it. I know when I hear it. I know when I read it.
I mean, things come out in the wash... the aforementioned bird photo is a prime example. You can eat all the plastic in the world. In the end, you will see it was never really food at all. It was built to look shiny and to be so pretty and to be used and talked about and to soak up a lot of useless attention for useless means, but in the end, the natural stomach couldn't digest it. It's like the pearls before the swine story only seemingly in reverse. It's like the swine is pooping out what seems like pearls but really they're just shiny painted plastic balls on a string. They are nothing. You get what I mean, eh? And yet, there you go, rushing off to rub yours against your teeth, tightly grasped in your right hand. Again. For the hundredth time even though it's leaving a mark on your teeth, you check and recheck. You do it again and again and again and the results are always the same. Yours are the real deal, baby. Always have been. Always will be.
Lately, you've been feeling a bit tired out by the whole cycle. You just want the damned pig to take the tall leap and have done. So, you keep your head down. You go back to work. You learn a new language. You call your mom. You talk to your husband and you remind your friends... plastic is one thing. Something real is quite another.
This should be the year you give that pig a good swift kick out of your life. Whoever they may be. Whatever negative thing they represent to you. Know your plastics. Know your plastic people. Know your pigs and certainly know your plastic pigs because they are out there. That is the lesson for this season of Mercurial Retrograde.
These drawings, to me, represent an emotional aesthetic like this. I am trying to tell you: she's just so jealous because everything you do will always be more beautiful because you are not plastic and she is. It's some kind of cat-scratch mentality coming out in me. You develop these skills in the woods.
Well, there's the cat. The peanut. No plastic. None involved. And idea. In a nutshell. Haha.
To all you beautiful mommas out there whom I adore.