Wednesday, May 6, 2015

Great Expectations (Estella)

The other night I watched the remake of Great Expectations (the one with Ethan Hawke and Gwyneth Paltrow) and I was reminded of what a terribly dark and passionate time my teenage years were for me (the 90s). The music, the sexuality, the coming of age, photographer boyfriends and nudey photos buried deep in time and memory (I hope). Art. So much art making. My drawings plastered all over my walls (even on the ceiling). The grey of pencil stains all the way up my arm (my badge of honour). Walking barefoot along the river. Walking in the forest. Sex in the deep deep woods. Everybody was deeply in love back then to the point where it felt more like pain than pleasure. Everything was so very very grave and serious. But it was so so so delicious and exquisitely torturous. I was the universe back then and my love was the centre. Whatever love actually was... I was so cool.

That was me. About four million years ago. Me and my great expectations.

I think my life took a turn for the boring when I decided I wanted to grow up and get serious. But this movie... reminded me of who I am (or was) at the core of my being. An artist enraptured with the human condition and in love with the idea of being in love.

I'm only happy when it rains...

I made this artwork while I watched this film. It was cathartic and healing. It's basically about shattered feelings, dreams (represented by the gold) and the way life can make me feel so very very tired sometimes. I am getting old(er) but I want to un-grow up. There's nothing for me in the land of uber-maturity. Then again, my kids might resent me for that...

I can't write about my sister's death lately. I have tried. Words fail me right now in that particular way. I miss her though. A lot.





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