HCG levels are down to 21.
One more(last!) week of pregnancy. Phew!

Not the right medium for this piece. The work reflects and is intertwined with the process. It is within this process that this series needs to exist, right now. (I can see down the line painting the series but this is not what the work is about currently). The work is about surrendering and at the same time finding strength. The medium is the juxtaposition between the strength in/of the body and the complete surrender to its being institutionalized (hospitalized). I need to play a lot and process the past few months.

Tereza,
PAINT
THESE
BIG
x

The work is in the movement through the interaction of air/atmosphere/context- being mobile.

project

· Main Entry: 1mo·bile

Thinking of the toy on top of the hospital bed. Making a mobile, balancing my paper form (body) with other people’s bodies, animals, plants, objects. The work is in the movement through the interaction of air/atmosphere/context- being mobile.

· Pronunciation: \ˈmō-bəl, -ˌbī-əl also -ˌbēl\
· Function: adjective
· Etymology: Middle English mobyll, from Anglo-French moble, from Latin mobilis, from movēre to move
· Date: 15th century

1 : capable of moving or being moved : movable
2 a : changeable in appearance, mood, or purpose b : adaptable, versatile
3 : migratory

· migratory; "a restless mobile society"; "the nomadic habits of the Bedouins"; "believed the profession of a peregrine typist would have a happy ...
· moving or capable of moving readily (especially from place to place); "a mobile missile system"; "the tongue is...the most mobile articulator"
· a river in southwestern Alabama; flows into Mobile Bay
· having transportation available
· capable of changing quickly from one state or condition to another; "a highly mobile face"
· sculpture suspended in midair whose delicately balanced parts can be set in motion by air currents
· fluid: affording change (especially in social status); "Britain is not a truly fluid society"; "upwardly mobile"

Tending to travel and relocate frequently: a restless, mobile society.

mobile
adj. moveable, portable, flowing freely; changing quickly, changeable; of services provided from a vehicle n. decorative structure made with delicate objects that are strung in balance on rods and are sensitive to the breeze or light touch; decorative structure made of plastic toys that is hung over a crib as an amusement for babies;

thinking about the blue of distance

desire and distance

"We treat desire as a problem to be solved, address what desire is for and focus on that something and how to acquire it rather than on the nature and the sensation of desire, though often it is the distance between us and the object of desire that fills the space in between with the blue of longing. I wonder sometimes whether with a slight adjustment of perspective it could be cherished as a sensation on its own terms, since it is inherent to the human condition as blue is to distance? If you can look across the distance without wanting to close it up, if you can own your longing in the same way that you own the beauty of that blue that can never be possessed? For something of this longing will, like the blue of distance, only be relocated, not assuaged, by acquisition and arrival, just as the mountains cease to be blue when you arrive among them and the blue instead tints the next beyond. Somewhere in this is the mystery of why tragedies are more beautiful than comedies and why we take a huge pleasure in the sadness of certain songs and stories. Something is always far away.

The mystic Simone Weil wrote to a friend on another continent, "Let us love this distance, which is thoroughly woven with friendship, since those who do not love each other are not separated." For Weil, love is the atmosphere that fills and colors the distance between herself and her friend. Even when that friend arrives on the doorstep, something remains impossibly remote: when you step forward to embrace them your arms are wrapped around mystery, around the unknowable, around that which cannot be possessed. The far seeps in even to the nearest. After all we hardly know our own depth."

(from Rebecca Solnit's, A Field Guide to Getting Lost)

paperwork

creatures of a hospital cell

This month has been so much about the body within. Representing it outwardly, I both did not have the energy for and the tools at the time. (For example, I was not remembering the camera on the way to the ER.)

Words became the platform, however, recently, I have managed a few videos and stills- it is a growing need and doable now that I feel better. Coming soon...

more moving pictures

Hi Tereza,
Have you been able to think in pictures during this time in your life?
It may help you re-pair - and communicate in new ways with yourself and with others.
Recently, I have heard that the hand is the seismograph for the soul -
x

lunch

Honey/sesame covered cashews
Crackers (2)
½ cup of pear sauce
Pieces of olive bread dipped in hummus
Renew tea
Stick of good chocolate
End right before fullness
Drink more tea
Invite kitten to lap

Floor, tea time, shadow

studio walk

On my walk from Poggio to the studio, these posts were on the road.
They look like survey devices to me, but I can't be sure what they are.
I found that looking through them provided a new perspective on the landscape.

Thanks for the airy space, I linger and breathe there.

Tell me more about the rods, lovely.


More from within my body:
The chemo is working.
Hormone levels are dropping.
The process should continue in this way over the next couple of weeks till the end of pregnancy.

Ridiculous episode from the hospital today:
"Miss, can you come back here? I drew the wrong vile, we have to draw your blood again."
Follow up appointment to get the results of the blood work this afternoon:
"We don't have the results, but the doctor can still see you."
At this point I have to laugh.

extraordinary kitten

Never considering ourselves 'cat' people, we are delighted with this being. Her love this month has been especially significant. She often sits and purrs at my belly. I never knew how great that vibration was. I started meditation classes last night, feeling a lot better, more on that soon...

Labor Day

a body at work- reproductive labor

fantastic text, school work, and our new love

A Letter to the Cells- my second pregnancy

Are you still there?

I'm tired, I want you out. But you are me and I can't escape.

You are dying, so slowly, please hurry up.

Who the fuck is I and who the fuck are you?

Regular life is ridiculous. It is about this isn't it?

This inbetween, this not knowing. But I fight it.

I want the ridiculous, I want the light, Ali's laugh, kitten purring in the lap.

My lap is so sore. I'm tired of being sore. Waiting for a possible burst. But hoping that it would then be over.

I mourn you but I wasn't sure I even wanted you, at least not all the painstaking work that comes with it, the enduring months of carrying you, the pain/border between life and death of delivery, the agonizing cries of a newborn and the responsibility of being its only hope.

I was terrified of you, but I wanted you, I romanticize you.

You are what you are, stuck, just like me. I'm so sorry I was stuck before you and I think I'm the reason for you sticking. I'm so sorry.

How will we survive? Can we transcend this?

I need to talk: Thanks for your lovely message!

It is through the words and kindness of friends that makes this situation bearable.

These words: this record helps me process. The blessing is to have my words reach a reader; my situation gets heard. That is the gift and I think helps me heal.

It is also incredibly humbling to suddenly lose control and flow with whatever comes.

I have now gone to the emergency room four times, had my blood drawn more than I can count, am going through chemotherapy (the medication is basically chemo where it fights any cells the body is currently making, in my case the embryo) but whether the tube bursts, or I have surgery, or the meds work just fine and the cells disintegrate, I am incredibly lucky. I would not be alive without medical technology.

I think this is the lesson.

I know I need to find a meditation teacher. My thoughts affect: I feared an ectopic pregnancy a month before, absolutely strange. I need to learn how to move thought and fears; be with whatever comes.

Please let me know of your transition to NYC, I feel similarly being back in our house as if it is an unfamiliar surrounding.

Affection and radiating affection

Both from Thoughtforms
x

woke up with pain

Update

This morning the egg sack was finally big enough to see in the ultrasound.
They found it in my left tube, so ectopic pregnancy.
I got my injection of methotrexate.
This stops the pregnancy and should start reversing the process.
If the meds don't take the next step is surgery.
(As sad as I am, I am happy that it is almost over.)

waiting

Waiting A Poem by Faith Wilding
Waiting . . .
waiting . . .
waiting . . .
Waiting for someone to come in
Waiting for someone to hold me
Waiting for someone to feed me
Waiting for someone to change my diaper
Waiting . . .
Waiting to scrawl, to walk, waiting to talk
Waiting to be cuddled
Waiting for someone to take me outside
Waiting for someone to play with me
Waiting for someone to take me outside
Waiting for someone to read to me, dress me, tie my shoes
Waiting for Mommy to brush my hair
Waiting for her to curl my hair
Waiting to wear my frilly dress
Waiting to be a pretty girl
Waiting to grow up
Waiting . . .
Waiting for my breasts to develop
Waiting to wear a bra
Waiting to menstruate
Waiting to read forbidden books
Waiting to stop being clumsy
Waiting to have a good figure
Waiting for my first date
Waiting to have a boyfriend
Waiting to go to a party, to be asked to dance, to dance close
Waiting to be beautiful
Waiting for the secret
Waiting for life to begin
Waiting…
Waiting to be somebody
Waiting to wear makeup
Waiting for my pimples to go away
Waiting to wear lipstick, to wear high heels and stockings
Waiting to get dressed up, to shave my legs
Waiting to be pretty
Waiting . . .
Waiting for him to notice me, to call me
Waiting for him to ask me out
Waiting for him to pay attention to me
Waiting for him to fall in love with me
Waiting for him to kiss me, touch me, touch my breasts
Waiting for him to pass my house
Waiting for him to tell me I’m beautiful
Waiting for him to ask me to go steady
Waiting to neck, to make out, waiting to go all the way
Waiting to smoke, to drink, to stay out late
Waiting to be a woman
Waiting . . .
Waiting for my great love
Waiting for the perfect man
Waiting for Mr. Right Waiting . . .
Waiting to get married
Waiting for my wedding day
Waiting for my wedding night
Waiting for sex
Waiting for him to make the first move
Waiting for him to excite me
Waiting for him to give me pleasure
Waiting for him to give me an orgasm
Waiting . . .
Waiting for him to come home, to fill my time…
Waiting . . .
Waiting for my baby to come
Waiting for my belly to swell
Waiting for my breasts to fill with milk
Waiting to feel my baby move
Waiting for my legs to stop swelling
Waiting for the first contractions
Waiting for the contractions to end
Waiting for the head to emerge
Waiting for the first scream, the afterbirth
Waiting to hold my baby
Waiting for my baby to suck my milk
Waiting for my baby to stop crying
Waiting for my baby to sleep through the night
Waiting for my breasts to dry up
Waiting to get my figure back, for the stretch marks to go away
Waiting for some time to myself
Waiting to be beautiful again
Waiting for my child to go to school
Waiting for life to begin again
Waiting . . .
Waiting for my children to come home from school
Waiting for them to grow up, to leave home
Waiting to be myself
Waiting for excitement
Waiting for him to tell me something interesting, to ask me how I feel…
Waiting for him to stop being crabby, reach for my hand, kiss me good morning
Waiting for fulfillment
Waiting for the children to marry
Waiting for something to happen
Waiting . . .
Waiting to lose weight
Waiting for the first gray hair
Waiting for menopause
Waiting to grow wise
Waiting . . .
Waiting for my body to break down, to get ugly
Waiting for my flesh to sag
Waiting for my breasts to shrivel up
Waiting for a visit from my children, for letters
Waiting for my friends to die
Waiting for my husband to die
Waiting . . .
Waiting to get sick
Waiting for things to get better
Waiting for winter to end
Waiting for the mirror to tell me that I’m old
Waiting for a good bowel movement
Waiting for the pain to go away
Waiting for the struggle to end
Waiting for release
Waiting for morning
Waiting for the end of the day
Waiting for sleep
Waiting…

Day Whatever

Embryo and I are still here:

Changing care providers!

Still in limbo- very early pregnant, not sure what the results will be.

But today we are both healthy and growing.

I'm happy about this and happy to never step inside that particular hospital again!

Day 5

Miscarriage has begun.

Day 4

Dull pain in lower abdomen throughout the night.
Blood.
Get ready to go to the hospital.
Call the OBGYN.
Get in the car.
Call the midwife.
"Most likely you're miscarrying, in which case there is not much the hospital can do."
Postpone the trip to the hospital.
Pain subsides.
Spotting is slight.

Tomorrow, another blood draw.
Pain increases at nighttime.

We're just along for the ride

Roller Coaster

Day 0- August 18th

Planned to celebrate Ali's birthday.
Wake up, after standing my ovaries start hurting.
Over the toilet for the next couple of minutes, feels like labor but that was four years ago.
I feel like I am rising out of my body and I grab my knees to keep grounded.
Cold sweat
I go to the emergency room, take ibuprofen before leaving the house.

Pelvic exam.
Ultra sound.
Inconclusive.
Doctor comes in tells me:
I'm pregnant.
There is a cyst on my right ovary.
We cannot rule out a tubal pregnancy.
I want to sleep.
I know we are not having the birthday party- I call the guests.
I cry in the hospital bed.
I have a dull pain in ovaries for the day.

Day 1
Party is rescheduled.
I take Tylenol, pain is better.
What does this mean?
Another being in our lives-
Can my body handle pregnancy? labor?
Get prenatal vitamins.
Not sure if I want this.
Not sure what I want.
I am reminded of O, surrendering.

I get help with the party.
We celebrate at the lake.
It is lovely.
I am still lost in my head, swimming helps.

Day 2
Every 48 hours I am to get blood work done.
See where the hormone levels are.
Get excited to hold baby forms,
excited for a sibling for Ali
All will be well

Day 3
Slight pain in the ovary
(But it might be imagined)
Saw slight pink after urinating
Pants are tighter,
Smells stronger.
What am I suppose to eat again?
What foods do I avoid?
I haven't even thought about the labor of breastfeeding!
The nurse calls:
How am I doing? Who am I? (I am listed under my maiden name)
What is the new address?
(I used the hospital minimally when I was pregnant with A.)
Where is the blood work?
Do I know the blood type?
The pink staining in the morning could be my body rejecting the baby. It could also be the tubal pregnancy, or miscarriage- or it could be normal but that she did not say.
Panic, are the ovaries hurting more?
OK, will call back when she tracks the blood work.

Pick blueberries but my mind is in a fog.
Check for more spotting in the bathroom.
Nurse calls back:
She has results from the blood draw,
Hormone levels are low, in the 200's
they expect them to double every 48 hours,
either very early in the pregnancy,
or a list of other (negative) causes.
I try to forget, I don't want the thoughts in my head.

It will turn out the way it is meant- neither good nor bad- birth or death-
Gray- in-between.

#14 of Sol Lewitt's Sentences on Conceptual Art

The words of one artist to another may induce an idea chain, if they share the same concept.

(Missing you, my dear.)

Moments at Vermont

work installed in a hardwood floor and in the wall

"waterplay" (bottom left in floor)

" walk" (top right in floor)

"sanding institution" initially on the wall in the gallery,

I later installed outdoors in front of the building under the tree.

It was most appealing at night when it glowed in the grass.

(stills from the "sanding institution" that was displayed on the above monitor- postcard of building was sanded and then the process reversed bringing the building back but in a different manner.)

space between (my) institutionalized thinking, from within

Coming, Home?

our house is a foreign space

polishing, clearing, shifting furniture

trying to create space (ridding clutter)

spent a few hours lying in the dark mapping the movement (getting rid of the toddler bed, putting the bureau into the bedroom, couch back in the living room.)

opened all windows (the air smells fresh after night rain)

space encounters (organized) chaos

it is left in process, a project in every room, each one sparks a new one

Destabilizing

In preparation for final year review- speaking on my work:


My work is about shifting ground, realizing that everything is in motion, unstable, and an unknown.

Within this, it is both liberating in that there are endless possibilities and no 'mistakes',
and in another sense this shifting ground is not a very comfortable space to be in.

Within my current work I am trying to be still and observe the subtle movement that is.

departure

Leaving for workshop today.
Not sure what will feel alien, or normal, or familiar, or strange.
Packed my bags - not sure what else I "need".
I have everything I need already.
x

the personal and the institutionalized

in a home, not of my construction, I am at home (again)

surrounded by beautiful objects that I do not need to own but can none the less enjoy and value

surrounded by people whose histories I do not know but can none the less appreciate

it is my family who at the moment seem alien



Lectures thus far: (will post images and more about the school upon reflection next week)

Leslie Hewitt- on her work
Marie Shurkus- on relational aesthetics, reenactment, and labor
and David Deitcher- on Tim Rollins and the K.O.S

revisiting

In space travelling in time

in a home but not my home

I am at home

and so very fortunate

to have been able to visit

Dear friends,

extraordinary people,

who among other qualities are stunning.

What a gift!

Black cat sketches

Salt of the Earth/ Salt on the Wound

Some progress shots of this installation...hoping to have many more in the coming days to fill the wall


Intervention on The Scarlet Letter
Salt, book
2009


detail of current incarnation

July 26, 2009 pt. 3: the red rug

Last night marked another wonderful moment in Tereza's visit to New York.
Since we have begun this blog together, we have not seen each other.
It was a lovely two days together. The red rug in the living room provided a wonderful backdrop for many of these pictures.
Talks about upcoming weddings
Possible new births
Boys
Growing up, growing old
Teaching
Husbands
Boys' table and girls' table
Engagement rings
x