Posts Tagged ‘trust’
hello, my friends and loves and wild kindreds. here we are.
i wrote this at the end of 2016:
many things have happened to me this year, i have caused many things to happen this year. some of the greatest triumphs, some of the deepest lows. this is what i learned: each day we are asked to hold a candle up against the things and people we love, in order to truly see them. to remember how to see them. but it is a definitive action, a powerful choice. an interaction, not passive. this is how the light works. sometimes our habitual or learned choice is darkness. we cannot always resemble the decisiveness of fire or the horizon or blades of grass. or soaking rain. we must make a choice, a conscious choice. for what we want to be, what we want to bring. to choose to heed or ignore the question posed to us, everyday. because whether or not we listen, the question is always there. will you hold up your candle to see things as they are? things and people worth fighting for. you, yourself, worth fighting for. it takes action. and i wish your body and soul recognition of that eternal, inherent movement, and the power in it. that no matter how much we recede into the darkness- hide, seethe, recoil, hurt. there is always potential to return the pendulum swing, call back the eternal question. back to the light. #happynewyear
the debut of reliquary: the body was my last performance of 2016 (you can read the full piece HERE), with amazing fotos by geo geller below…
it was something totally different for me, edges i need to continue pushing and playing with.
i cried when this was over and i cried into the mirror before it started. everything screamed in my head not to trust. i was more nervous than i can remember being for a performance in so, so long. i released the deepest and darkest. the cracked doorways and red sheets. it was done. and i just lost myself inside it. i seldom memorize my work, get stuck on perfection or fear of forgetting words, and just forget what’s possible in the visceral. this is what’s possible. to just give it, fully. and let it go. thank you with my whole heart to edjo wheeler & LIC-A and everyone who watched me debut ‘reliquary: the body.’ everyone who was moved. it was beyond me. i know that through everything, i just have to continue pushing. #thankyou
this is the video by bill hopkins which i feel so lucky to have…
1.1.17 first day of the world:
some days you ride with the current. swiftly, effortlessly. the earth seems peopled with feelings, with presence. walking alone is not walking alone. it is not being afraid. not feeling the passage of time. i remember, now, walking this bridge under delicate slice of crescent moon, cars roaring. how it felt to walk the woods alone. stand on the edge of the road at night. sit in the field, watch vultures circling. i fear again and again i will be robbed of myself. but it is just a matter of slipping back into the stream. nothing gained, nothing lost. resuming, pulse of the infinite. onward, and on.
find me, here [upcoming events]
including- something very close to my heart:
HOW WE CREATE/HOW WE COPE:
intersections of art & mental health/mental illness
Friday, February 10th, 6:30-8:30pm
at Queens Council on the Arts’ LAB space in Astoria [Facebook invite]
Queens native and poet/curator Audrey Dimola hosts a panel and performance evening aiming for safe space, honest talk, and open presentations about the too-often stigmatized topic of mental illness, particularly in connection to the creative experience. Throughout our cultural history, many of the legendary artists we know today grappled in this way- yet it becomes a passing line in their bio, a tragic footnote; and their brilliant work remains. In the present day, an increasing number of individuals of all ages are struggling in similar fashion, frequently in silence and shame, for fear of judgment and unanswered questions. How much of how we suffer makes us who we are and results in the art we create? How much of these feelings are the natural experience of the artist, and when is it time to seek help? What do those forms of help look like? A variety of local featured artists will present their stories, poetry, music, visual art, and more, in addition to facilitated discussion, Q&A, and sharing of resources/experiences on these topics. All are welcome, your voice is encouraged.
1 is the year of completion,
(with gratitude for you always)
i am i am i said i’m not myself but i’m not dead & i’m not for sale
hold me closer closer let me go let me be just let me be -STP.
“the pull is visceral. it may also be an act of self-loathing or anger against home or society or even the human condition in which the promise of death shadows us from those first fresh moments of birth.” -scott weiland, ‘not dead & not for sale.’
there comes a time when the pain is too great and you have to make things.
physically- knot them, paint them, scratch them, burn them. scavenge in the street, rip from pages, make a mess. as much of a mess you feel like you are- to create- that.
because- for a person for whom words are everything- sometimes they mean nothing.
and out of this disillusion, disappointment, hurt- something else is born. something in the realm of craft and mystic- synthetic. organic. trash. treasure. dirty hands to remind you you’re still alive and there is still a way to express the infinite bewilderment of that fact.
the only way to truly rail against death is to disappear for awhile- and create something.
“i embrace the day at a time mindset. for me, there’s no other way to live. i’ve got to stay present. i am optimistic. i have to learn to see the beauty in the mundane. i believe this is a key to my spiritual well-being. i have to change my perception and see god’s beauty in everything.”
“the human heart filled with sorrows and gold.”
-scott weiland, ‘not dead & not for sale.’
. still frame from movement to ‘interstate love song’
. still – collage
. i only have one antler (assemblage to the old life); what are bones for anyway (the stake, & association- ‘dying isn’t the hard part’) [two pieces]
. incomplete initiation [detail]
. breathing is the hardest – collage
. i only have one antler (assemblage to the old life) [detail]
. breathing is the hardest – collage [detail]
. still frame from movement to ‘interstate love song’
. incomplete initiation
. notes from the bottom (this is a cry for help)
**notes to self:
an installation is coming
do everything in the glow of candles and christmas lights
art is a permanent solution to a temporary problem
can there be any possibility of completely understanding who we are and why we’re here or where we are going? […] you have to keep on asking. -kunitz
IT’S MY BIRTHDAY! <3 (leo grrlz throw ya paws up!! ;))
thank you all for helping make it a crazy-beautiful and incredibly memorable trip around the sun..
for all the words, the enthusiasm, shows attended, inspiration shared, hugs exchanged, hearts touched, collaborations made, opportunities presented, magic conjured, and LOVE given freely.. thank you, thank you, thank you.
for this one life, this voyage of mine that sometimes veers into the wildest of waters- i am so grateful.
i realized the other day that the gorgeous moments of life are a lot of like bright islands in a shadowy sea.
each moment stands like an island circling light like a beacon in the darkness- it can’t be compared to anything else, it just is. even lost in the wild sea, know that- a few more breaths, strokes- the light will fill you, find you again. be witness to what it is you feel. the grace in almost drowning and finding another island. life is like that. light-filled islands in the dark, wild sea. shifting, eroding, flooding, so you can’t quite stay, but god.. so beautiful while you do.
my birthday wish is to remain cognizant of how lucky i am, every. single. day.
i want to share 29 pieces of wisdom with you that have been helping me through the wilderness of this particularly heart-cracking summer.
with fire-filled thanks for my twenty-ninth year..
out of darkness lion heart pumping,
29 for 29 / how to make it through the wilderness:
1. don’t forget that this too is part of the magic you have to offer the world. this pain we go through. our wilderness years. –nick calder
2. in other words, fear doesn’t go away. the warrior and the artist live by the same code of necessity, which dictates that the battle must be fought anew everyday. –the war of art
3. discontent, restlessness, doubt, despair, longing […] instead of facing them, one runs away; one escapes- into depressions, nervous breakdowns, drink, love affairs, or frantic, thoughtless, fruitless overwork. anything, rather than face them. anything, rather than stand still and learn from them. one tries to cure the signs of growth, to exorcise them, as if they were devils, when they really might be angels of annunciation. –gift from the sea
4. we insist on permanency, on duration, on continuity; when the only continuity possible, in life as in love, is in growth, in fluidity- in freedom. –gift from the sea
5. maybe that’s why i have a fragile heart. you can’t accept everything, or you become a monster. –the golden legend (film)
6. the kinds of discoveries that are made through practice have nothing to do with believing in anything. they have much more to do with having the courage to die, the courage to die continually. –when things fall apart
7. you don’t have to have a college degree to serve. you don’t have to make your subject and your verb agree to serve. you don’t have to know about plato and aristotle to serve. you don’t have to know einstein’s theory of relativity to serve. you only need a heart full of grace. a soul generated by love. and you can be that servant. –MLK
8. being preoccupied with our self-image is like being deaf and blind. it’s like standing in the middle of a vast field of wildflowers with a black hood over our heads. –when things fall apart
9. if you don’t go out in the woods, nothing will ever happen and your life will never begin. –women who run with the wolves
10. there must be a little, and in many cases, a good deal of blood spilled on every story, on every aspect of your own life […] if a person is to carry a true medicine. –women who run with the wolves
11. listen to the birds always. –shane hobel, mountain scout survival
12. and though of magnificence and splendour, your house shall not hold your secret nor shelter your longing. for that which is boundless in you abides in the mansion of the sky, whose door is the morning mist, and whose windows are the songs and the silences of night. –the prophet
13. do it with all your heart and then don’t care when it breaks. –eduardo, on the metro
14. I placed one foot on the wide plain
of death, and some grand immensity
sounded on the emptiness.
I have felt nothing ever
like the wild wonder of that moment. –rumi
15. for horror not to repeat itself endlessly we have to understand its makeup, be willing to look at it, get close to it, at the same time not burn up with it. what we avoid corrupts and deforms us- we are always twisting away from it. and it shows in our writing, in the way we sit and walk. –the true art of writing
16. it is not the desert island nor the stony wilderness that cuts you from the people you love. it is the wilderness in the mind, the desert wastes in the heart through which one wanders lost and a stranger. when one is a stranger to oneself then one is estranged from others too. if one is out of touch with oneself, then one cannot touch others. […] only when one is connected to one’s own core is one connected to others, i am beginning to discover… –gift from the sea
17. only to the extent that we expose ourselves over and over to annihilation can that which is indestructible be found in us. –when things fall apart
18. ask not of things to shed their veils. unveil yourselves, and things will be unveiled. nor ask of things to break their seals. unseal ourselves, and all will be unsealed. […] if, then, your world be such a baffling riddle, it is because you are that baffling riddle. and if your speech be such a woeful maze, it is because you are that woeful maze. –the book of mirdad
19. if there’s a god or any kind of justice under the sky
if there’s a point, if there’s a reason to live or die
if there’s an answer to the questions we feel bad to ask
show yourself, destroy your fears, release your mask… –QUEEN [listen]
20. ’i’ve been through all this before,’ he says to his heart.
‘yes, you have been through all this before,’ replies his heart.
‘but you have never been beyond it.’ –coelho
21. i am always being overwhelmed, i require it to sustain life. –everett ruess
22. TODAY IS A GOOD DAY FOR MY EGO TO DIE! –nahko [listen]
23. what the hibernating winter in their blood/ needs to become- some dreaming scene/ of humans lumbering away, walking/ on their tongues and tasting/ the truth of the earth. –hochman
24. how sublime is the silence of nature’s ever-active energies! there is something in the very name of wilderness, which charms the ear, and soothes the spirit of man. there is religion in it. -wilderness & the american mind
25. TODAY, TODAY LIVE LIKE YOU WANNA
LET YESTERDAY BURN & THROW IT IN A FIRE
IN A FIRE, IN A FIRE
LIVE LIKE A WARRIOR –matisyahu [listen]
26. But often, in the din of strife,
There rises an unspeakable desire
After the knowledge of our buried life;
A thirst to spend our fire and restless force
In tracking out our true, original course;
A longing to inquire
Into the mystery of this heart which beats
So wild, so deep in us- to know
Whence our lives come and where they go. -m.arnold
27. We want so much,
When perhaps we live best
In the spaces between loves,
That unconscious roving,
The heart its own rough animal.
Unfettered. -tracy k. smith
28. an animal flowers in the elements. it grows wings. –humanimal
29. the solution for me, surely, is neither in total renunciation of the world, nor in total acceptance of it. i must find a balance somewhere, or an alternating rhythm between these two extremes; a swinging of the pendulum between solitude and communion, between retreat and return. –gift from the sea
& one for luck**
when you look back on a lifetime and think of what has been given to the world by your presence, your fugitive presence, inevitably you think of your art, whatever it may be, as the gift you have made to the world in acknowledgment of the gift you have been given, which is the life itself. and i think the world tends to forget that this is the ultimate significance of the body of work each artist produces. that work is not an expression of the desire for praise or recognition, or prizes, but the deepest manifestation of your gratitude for the gift of life. –kunitz
lose your self-consciousness
gain your self-awareness
be the light on the underside
move like the forest teaches
you to move
the goal for you is to overcome
it is up to you to be a human
translation of the wild
be the wolf they can see in the
shine of your iris in sunlight
help them remember how. –notes from my treehouse
to let the first (immersive) version of this wily beast loose.
will you join us?
in 2012 on what would’ve been my nana’s 66th birthday i released my first book, “DECISIONS WE MAKE WHILE WE DREAM.” this year the day after my nana’s birthday and the day before mother’s day, i’ll be doing another first: a site-specific immersive experience called “THE WILD PAPERS.” it’s been a (fittingly) wild ride to this moment – starting off with restlessness & ideas, many talks and emails filled with questions to special friends, a writing/sharing workshop at queens council on the arts and finally an unexpected opportunity from monica montgomery to present at the lewis h. latimer house museum (under their #museumanarchy program!) that led to even more talks, idea-spinning, playing and inspiration with some beautiful collaborators i am so damn grateful to have: tyler rivenbark, jacob jeffrey horstmeier & kate vander velden. it’s been challenging, terrifying, humbling, goosebump-inducing & insanely FUN.. can’t wait to see where the road goes from here.
flyer by GiAnna Ligammari // art !
“The Wild Papers” is Audrey Dimola’s latest project and initiative, a series of performances and workshops centered around sparking memories and dreams, diving headfirst into the stories that make up our lives, and rediscovering – and reclaiming – the limitless spark of wildness within us all.
On May 9th, the Latimer House in Flushing, Queens will be home to the very first incarnation of “The Wild Papers” as a performance – a unique, site-specific experience in the house and its grounds, conceived with inventor/poet/draftsman Latimer’s spirit of the unconquerable, of innovation and creativity.
You will be led through a seamless presentation of vignettes of dreams and memories, told through music, dance, poetry, and theatrical elements both specific and universal, playful and haunting. “The Wild Papers” is an exploration of the joy and poignancy of nostalgia, what we bring with us as we go forward, and what makes us who we are.
We are living with an ENDLESS barrage of memories, thoughts, and emotions, especially when it comes to the idea of HOME. Can you ever really go home again? And if you can, what do you find there – in your loved ones, your memories, yourself…?
Conceived by & featuring:
Kate Vander Velden
with Diana Benigno
rock & roll with wild on the side
(did i mention there may be ghosts),
there’s something strange that rides on the edge of disaster.
a kind of hope, in the distance, in the blinders.
in the windshield promise of the open road.
the fact that even in the heartache..
again – we were in the car, me shotgun, outside my house. impressionable in college, anyway. i let you cut my hair and you butchered it. but you said: “if nothing changes, nothing changes.” your mom, passed on, told you that. and you still wore a few strands of her greyed hair inside your necklace.
i wonder what i would do if i could pull apart what we are – what parts would i take? wear around my neck? crystallize? lift up to the shelf where all of our myriad objects from journeys get left.
i was moving my clothes and your terracotta incense burner shaped like a church fell. and broke.
the heart is not a metaphor, they say.
what about everything else?
there is a strange promise in the artery of heartbreak.
even in the severing, you take comfort in the fact..
you’ll bleed new blood.
it doesn’t mean –
never trust again.
it doesn’t mean –
never love again.
it just means..
there are more mirrors in this house than i expected.
but i realize now how easy it is for you to look past your own reflection.
isn’t it funny, how we all always say –
i thought i knew you?
maybe it’s not even possible – to know.
it’s just whatever strand of light hits the glass first.
my girl, my girl, don’t lie to me. tell me where did you sleep last night? in the pines, in the pines, where the sun don’t ever shine. i would shiver the whole night through.
sometimes i think – i need to disappear into the woods.
hollow out a space for my bones, curled up into a tangle of fur and paws and tears.
even the beasts cry, sometimes.
especially when they don’t want to.
i am not foolish enough to believe that anyone can be what you need them to be.
i remember his mother telling me that, a few heartbreaks ago, from the driver’s seat of her car on the island.
she said it in passing but it predicted the end – of that. of – so many things.
this sad zodiac.. my stars shattered into a bowl, mortar and pestle, feed me my wishes again so i can stay.. alive.
it all comes out in the grinding.
in the working of the words, of the bones, of the promises.
where is the line from acceptance to acceptance? what makes it surrender? what makes it holding your breath?
i am not a guru sitting in the woods, eyes closed, hands folded. sweet smile.
i am the beast in the burrow.
i don’t believe you.
acceptance is not surrender in the usual sense. funny, these guises of words.
all guises. all words held on posts against faces. we promise. and promise. and close our eyes again.
but it’s not important enough, is it? is it.
you have lived this long enough and i am not understanding.
i think i know enough to say – i don’t want to..
maybe i should keep it. myself.
let you remember how the lone howl fits in your throat.
leave you with the cup. the lighter and matchsticks.
i don’t believe you.
even the beasts cry, sometimes.
waiting for another dream.