What I must continually remind myself of is that I must accept both sides, both histories of my family. My grandfather is an emblem of an impossible idea and plateau of existence. As humble as he can act, he also can act with much severity and misguided emotion. He holds grudges, though he made a bad decision for an earnest and good reason his behavior in regards to this decision are inappropriate. Those I saw as weak are strong. Those in my family that I saw as true and honest and direct are not. The vices in my family's history are great and what we've done is truly sad. What is kept from one another. My grandfather should know about his father. It will hurt, but it is absolutely necessary. My mother is losing herself slowly, especially since I left for college and especially since I stopped spending summers here.
Meanwhile I miss her. Am I taking on too many of her qualities? Do I take on too many qualities of too many other people? How do I connect once more to my mother like I did so many years ago. I think that is lost and that she has chosen her path. She has inherited a vice from my grandfather, by my grandfather has the tolerance.
All this as I look at the fall and debate whether I should sell my untitled flag piece or rather to whom should I sell it? Can I take a chance and do it, and if it is a mistake, it will just be a hurtle for me to deal with later in life? Do I try to always maintain my ground in an effort to strive to become the symbol my grandfather has been for me? Do I work for an artist? Which one? Or do I work with an artist who has their feet both in the art world and in reality? I am referring to Ken, Julianne's husband. Or perhaps the art world truly isn't so troublesome--I sometimes hope in vain if I were to enter that atmosphere I could change it by example. And as Thomas says (to paraphrase), "maybe no one gives a shit and it is a status signifier." I can't help but look at Rodin or Duchamp (not Nauman) and just think it was compulsion alone that drove them. Why am I making things? I do it so I can hash out who I want to be. To demonstrate raw work ethic--that is one without functional value. Yet, if I have a particular functional skill set, why am I not doing what I love to do: help people. What am I doing thinking about an MFA? Why didn't I go to New Orleans years ago? Then I was insecure. But why don't I go now? And what about her. Or him? I'd like to be around at least one of them. I am making my next decision based on the outcome of decisions they are making now. Which is to say that I am not making any pro-active decisions. And I hate that.
This all takes me back to Synesthesia and other ideals I've had (I have always wanted to have all those I love and care for live on my property here, with a farm, where we'd all work--both the farm and our individual creative or academic projects. And when a disaster hit, we'd all travel together in an effort to make it all okay again--whatever that is). Synesthesia was another manifestation of a similar feeling. It was a social act, a way to try to better something. A form of thinking to broaden our senses, thoughts. And now I am at the point where I could do this, somehow. But I don't know where to start, logistically. This is what I would love the most though. Just decency.
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