Time to Get Ill
I often feel like everywoman and sometimes like no woman I know. I am aware that the goings on inside my head are not unusual, not atypical, not unique since this is a girl who studies art and history for a living. I see things in pictures that tell me, oy, the human condition is complex and I am nothing if not flawed and human.
It’s nice to feel yourself in another’s work, it’s comforting. That overwhelming sadness, passion, hurt, sexiness, playfulness, love, hate, and fear that I see in art fills me with the feeling of “me too.” This is why I do what I do. Bosch fascinates me, tickles my fancy. Gentileschi scares me, rocks my very being. Fragonard makes me giggle.
I know my life isn’t inherently different than yours. In that regard, I also think many of us squish those feelings, beliefs, and experiences down into our bellies, keeping them to ourselves.
At least, I seem to.
And now, when so much of my life is plastered on the tongues of friends and family, I find myself on the end of something new. The human condition that I am so used to seeing in the creations of artists has come off the canvas, the weirdness and warts included, and is now out in the open. And everyone is suddenly worried about me. I’m now relegated to the ranks of those mildly off their rocker. But dudes, I’m fine. I’m just not being as quiet as I normally am, I’m not denying my feelings and my actions, I’m not pretending I’m not here.
I’m okay.
I am okay.
So far. Mostly.
You been fully captivated by that funky ass bass…
Posted by Melissa on October 26th, 2006 under Histoire d'Art, Melancholia
October 26th, 2006 at 12:54 pm
It’s hard when all the chatter is about you, but it fades, particularly if you are out and open about it all. There’s no intrigue, no mystery. I was married when I met K and I had an affair with him that ended my first marriage. (K was my intern.) Imagine the scandal. People were TALKIN’! I decided to be part of the conversation and it died down pretty fast.
Still thinking of you…
October 26th, 2006 at 1:00 pm
I’m taking the lesson that empathy and identification can come from both old media and new. From ren art to 2006 blogs. Keep talking. I’m listening.
October 26th, 2006 at 1:26 pm
Your intern! Harlot! I love you! No, really, I love you.
VU: Thank you thank you thank you. I can’t express the thank you adequately.
October 26th, 2006 at 2:58 pm
Nothing dies down the talk more than just being upfront and a part of the conversation about yourself. My family, all about the gossip. However, they don’t do it about me because I get it all out there and well, then it just isn’t as exciting to them.
OK, so do you know how small The Swing really is? I mean, I’m sure you do because it is what you study, but seriously, I was SHOCKED when I saw the smallness of this painting that I had built up as a giant work of wonder in my mind for years and years. After I got over it, I then loved it in its tiny glory.
Hope we can still get together tomorrow! Cheers!
October 26th, 2006 at 4:44 pm
Melissa, I’m here too. And I don’t think you’re any further off your rocker than any of the rest of us. Let the people say what they will; if you know you’re okay, then that’s okay by me.
((You))
October 26th, 2006 at 7:04 pm
Stephanie, you know, it’s like all the other works, you can read how small or big something is, but until you’re in front of it, you just can’t imagine!
There is nothing like standing in front of something!
It’s not just idle gossip happening as far as I can tell, but genuine concern and sheer love. But concern that I am fucking nuts…
October 26th, 2006 at 7:21 pm
Ok. I hope you and Steph can “come out and play” tomorrow night.
FOr the record. I think you ARE fucking crazy! But in that really fun way! Not in that scarey way at all. I say all this with love!
October 27th, 2006 at 4:06 pm
I don’t think you’re mildly anything, which is one reason I love you (or at least your internet persona). You’re passionate. It’s glorious to behold. I imagine sometimes it’s also a little tiring — which I know you know is not the same thing as being tiresome.
I also think normalcy is not everything it’s cracked up to be. I may have said this before, in which case you should slap me before I repeat again. But normal people burned people at the stake. Normal people made up the canaille. Normal people voted for George Bush. Normal people in different parts of the world inflict clitoridectomies on their daughters just so they, in turn, will be normal and have normal lives.
Pah! Normal! I spit on normal.
Meanwhile, my true love tells me that sanity is clinically defined not as normalcy but more at how we define resiliency. Not quite, but closer. It’s about the ability to formulate nondamaging survival strategies or something like that. He read it out loud to me from one of his psych textbooks some time ago, late at night.
I don’t know how this relates. I just throw it in in case it’s useful. I might also be throwing it in because I’m insane.
Whatever. I’m glad you’re hanging in, and I hope you feel better soon.
October 27th, 2006 at 9:25 pm
You’re no crazier than I am. And all the worries and concerns are probably because you are hurting - not because you’re nuts. We’ve all been there - and it helps a great deal to know that you are loved.
That’s all.
October 30th, 2006 at 3:33 pm
Sara, Lisa, ha! I spit on normal too! I am working on those nondamaging survival strategies…
You are all a bunch of crazies, too, then? Thank you!
November 1st, 2006 at 1:58 am
Not many people love Bosch, so I feel that this reflects everyone else’s comments that you are much more interesting than the average person. (I love his stuff too and I am definitely strange.)