Saturday, October 18, 2014

while reading Where the Heart Beats I question

How is the everyday related to art?
How much of the daily grime, is the beauty?

Awakening to my life:
How is my seeing, smelling, tasting, noticing dust-balls
     the urine in diapers,
     which I have realized is a smell I associate with home
    The hollering of grandma's, the noise, in between the Calm Meditation Radio on Pandora
     the never-ending dishes
     "We are always just doing the dishes" (Emily Orling)
     never-ending laundry
     never-ending food preparation
     Anitra's shit paintings


"It's not what you do, it's how you do it." (RnC)
Am I present? Not often, not during chores, they're never-ending. In this way my process is never-ending.
Everything I do is not art- just moments.

No comments: