watercolor on arches hot press paper
This may be redundant, but listen. The last couple days have plunged me into some ridiculous, epic journey of self-loathing and rage-y despair. It was not so much a passive state of depression, but an active fury. When I said I wanted to throw a temper tantrum, I totally meant it. I was hard-core craving broken dishes on the driveway and screaming and kicking and throwing. The desire was really just for the sake of the feeling of it, but more subtly, I suppose, it was the if-i-can’t-have-EVERYTHING!-exactly-how-I!!-want-it-and-NOW!-then-i-will-throw-a-fit . . . thing. And not being able to throw fits all day long was like being told by the obstetrician to not push.
And, oh! Look at the moon. It is a little waning thing. How predictable. I hate myself for being so fucking predictable!
(Just kidding. But if I would’ve said that yesterday, I probably would’ve meant it.)
And so it was in this state that I did this painting. I’m borrowing this guitar, if you remember, and although I’ve previously never learned anything beyond the first three chords in Harvest Moon or a Nirvana riff or two, I’m trying to get my rock on. I really am quite terrible at it thus far, and my fingertips are red and swollen and sore, and hooray for a very easy E minor chord, but still, it just feels sooooo damn good to play it really loud. It is also a good thing to have around when one is craving a temper tantrum.
A part of my self-loathing was regarding my inability to just be calm and sweet and nice. I mentally noted one failed attempt at Zen, F minor, housewifery, and altogether goodness . . . after another. I did try to wrangle it in, the crazy. I was bringing my attention to that which is, but it turns out that that which was was the ridiculous desire to scream and swear and maybe even to bite. Sometimes what presents itself is the painfully beautiful glitter of snow, and other times it is just, you know, biting.
Considering the honesty of the emotion made me think (with a little help from my friend), waitaminutehere. Maybe this is OK, simply feeling what there is to feel, as opposed to denying, or worse, becoming completely out of touch with, extreme emotion. (And also, she told me that someone called a picture of me cute. Ah, flattery.) Fiery is a part of me, and trying to be “good” and “nice” is sometimes especially exhausting. I woke up thinking about archetypes, and trying to remember some of the goddess myths that would point to the fierce aspect of the divine feminine. And, so hooray for facebook, where Chameli mentioned Durga. I cued up Ragani’s “Durga” on my iPod, and I named my painting after her.
I’m putting the original up on my Etsy, as well as a few prints of both this rocking Durga and The Selkie. The prints have not yet arrived from the printer, and so I’m listing them at a discount until they do (I am such the terrible businesswoman!). You’ll get them cheaper for being a little risky and patient. Apropos.
***EDITED TO ADD: the 8×10 prints have sold, already! I’ve just listed the 5×7.***
