Wednesday, July 2, 2014

Continuation of white flowers entry.

Only today did I find a painting that I liked and used it as a reference and was pleased with what I saw! In fact, today I succeeded in accepting and liking painting after painting after painting.

I think that this means that I found something.

I think that I am learning my style.

I want to paint fast.

I want to paint without thinking too much.

I love the loose look.

The feeling of freedom that I experience when looking at paintings that I like that are painted loosely really touches me spirit.

I feel something free, something inside letting go, yielding, exploring, discovering, going free....
a painting that is painted loosely and that I like excites me, makes me want to learn more, to paint more, to copy....

And this is where my motivation is strong, this is where I am passionate and determined and accepting of myself as an artist.....

This is where I am moved, where I jump and do summersaults from the inside.... when I come across it I get real happy, so happy that all of my negative thinking disappears... and what remains is color and shape and form in a wild buzz of freedom and expression...

That sounds so simple. Only that I am struggling so hard to try to figure out how I can create like this. And what I am finding out is that I am impatient, impulsive, messy and more and more of the same...

But even with the impatience, I paint and paint for hours. I paint from the tube. I slap it on. And then I obsess and obsess and obsess.

I don't plan in advance. I don't put a little structure down. I barely take the time to mix the colors. I usually paint from the tube and mix colors as I go along. This lends itself to a huge waste of paint. Which makes me wasteful too. Add that to he list of negatives that I have discovered.

I don't want to take the time to think slowly and clearly, to plan out, to copy diligently and patiently, petal by petal. Nooooooo!

I want to work fast, with palette knife and brushes. Oh, I paint with a kazillion brushes. I restate the mess part of all of this. So, I want to work fast with sweeps of color. I want to paint flowers loosely and with depth and personality. I want it to come easy and to look easy!!!!!!!!

I am tired of looking at other artist's work and thinking that I wish that I could paint like them. I am tired at looking at other artist's work and thinking how crappy my art is next to there artwork.

Today I was rejected from The NOS Summer Selective and from the New Art Centre Holtzwoser Gallery Submission.

And today, my PN friend, David, from New York received my painting of red and yellow tulips in water-color. He said that he though nothing would lift his spirit today but then my painting arrived and his spirit lifted!!!!

And I got a beautiful facebook message from a young women with PN that searched PN on youtube and found my poetry. I am so grateful that she wrote to me. She thanked me so much for my poetry. She said that it was very meaningful to have all of her feelings validated and reflected through my poetry.

So, today, I have finally accepted my white flower paintings!!!

And to me, from now on, white flowers will symbolize self-acceptance and acceptance of my place in my life.

How can I accept myself if I do not accept where I am in my life now?

Wow. That is a huge question. A very profound one.

Another frustration that I feel profoundly is the frustration of wanting to have/be a voice for the things that I believe in. Through my art. And recognizing how little I know and thus how limited my expression is, is very disturbing to me.

I want to do work on animal abuse and the cruelty of factory 'farming'. I want to do work that will be looked at, that will change things.....but I feel  so small in my artistic ability and I feel so useless when I think of the tiny effect I would have even if people saw my art.

The denial of the cruelty and brutality of factory tortures kills me. It kills me. It is part of what made me not want to have children, that and the holocaust. I couldn't make sense out of them and I gave up inside on life.

And I still do. Even though today I want a child. I still give up from it. Still feel so angry and helpless and useless. The way that I did so many years ago at the bull-fight and Barcelona. I had wanted to scream in rage, to scream so loud that the whole fucking stadium would hear my cry, would feel my pain, but instead I just walked out, tears spilling, angry and invisible, having done nothing to stop the horror that I had watched in front of me.

And the absurdity too. It made no sense to me. I remember vividly looking at young daughter that was sitting on her father's shoulders. I remember watching them shouting and cheering on the matador as he stabbed the bull over and over again. I could not make sense out of it.

These are the things that make me feel like I come from another planet, and that my stay here is some kind of mistake. There is so much that humans do that I cannot understand.

One of them is eating animals in a system that tortures and causes profound and extensive suffering to our brethren animals.

I don't understand it. And I feel angry.

But, one thing that has happened this week is that I have seen that Jamaica Plane has a lot of awareness and that there are other vegans that I can connect to that struggle with the same feelings and want to create change.

White flowers feel like a relief, like a moment of clarity, like a gift of gratitude and of acceptance in the moment.

White flowers, self-acceptance

Acceptance of myself, where I am right now in my life, in my body

I find it very hard to accept my self because I want a family and I do not have one

I want a baby

I want a man

I want a man that wants a baby with me

I want all of this and a lot of love

I want to meet a man that can support me and my baby financially

And I want all of this with a lot of love

I don't want money or fancy things or a big house or beautiful car

I want time with my baby and with the man that I love that will be the father of my baby

I want to meet a man that will feel blessed that I am his woman

I want to feel blessed that the man that I love is in my life and that we both want a child together.

So, I have started to think about the sperm-bank.

Just a thought.

So, how do I work on self-acceptance?

On accepting where I am in my life today.

Working through my art.

It has been intense, frustrating and mean.

I have felt that my art is as mediocre as mediocre can be.

That I have no particular talent for painting.

Persistence will be my key if I ever find my style and love my art.

I have been creating/painting all week only to destroy what I painted.

What have I learnt?

That when I put flowers onto the canvas I should think about the arrangement of the flowers.
I don't want them to look stacked up on top of each other, or be all the same size, or have no breathing room between each other. 

I want there to be a lot of leaves with different shades and values of green and yellow.

I need to think about how I create depth and also where the flowers are facing. If they are all facing the front, looking straight at me, the painting will look static.

Where I put the centre/darker dot will determine where the flower is facing.

I am still trying to figure out how I create depth.

So, I have been creating and destroying over and over on the very same canvas. It has been frustrating and disappointing. I felt like whatever I painted yielded nothing worthy of looking at.

That is sad. I was angry that I could not figure out how to create depth on my flowers and I was angry that none of my creations were singing to me.

I felt and thought that I am not a painter, that it would take years and years before anything worthwhile came out of me.

Sure, I painted PN. And that it important, for awareness. But what about being an artist just for the sake of being an artist. What about being able to create meaning and beauty and love and fulfillment?

I felt like all I boil down to is Pudendal Neuralgia. I felt that all I really am is a fucking pain syndrome, a post traumatic anxiety disorder, a drama-therapist with a license that isn't recognized here. a pain in the ass for my mother....

I could probably go on and on. I will in fact. I felt that I am not worthy of anything, that I have no intrinsic or essential value. The absolute ineptitude that I saw in my art was a cruel mirror for all of my negative thinking and self-doubt and anger at my situation and feeling of deep and profound frustration with where I am in life today.

Tuesday, March 25, 2014

So, here I am, at Hebrew College at the Beit Midrash. Rabbi Klein, a true sweetheart, is going to send out my invitation to my PN exhibit to the rabbinical school e-mail list and to the faculty e-mail. The Newton Centre Minyan already received the invitation and Abba is working on getting the invitation sent to Shaarey Tefillah.
So, how am I?
I think that this blog might be read by more people soon and I guess that I want to protect my privacy. Going out there means being willing to risk not being received with compassion. I am vulnerable.
Nortriptyline is a gift from God. I am back to living.
I so much want a child. And so much want to have a family, to create a family together with a man that I love. The thoughts that this will never happen break my heart.
I am pushing through the depression, I have to get the word out as quickly as I can and to as many people as possible. This is what I have been waiting for. To be able to spread awareness. My paintings are powerful and they speak for me.
I am an artist and a writer and a being. A being that has suffered beyond human limits and I am still bound up to trauma. I am also creative and free and spontaneous so much so that trauma can't strangle me completely. But it does keep me from believing that wonderful things could still happen in my life. That is sad.
More then anything, I want you to know that I love you. And I am so grateful to be out of pain. What I want most is to be able to help alleviate suffering. This is what I love about you. That whatever horrors you have known, your spirit has stayed committed to its higher calling.
I hope one day to be happy again. I hope one day to love a man that will want to give me a child with love and devotion and commitment.
Atara, you are doing good work. You are doing what you need to be doing. You are being brave and courageous and I honor you for that.
What you are doing is not easy to do. I respect you for that.
What you are doing is beautiful and tender and intimately personal. You are shedding yourself before others, knowing that many 'others' lack compassion. And you are willing to stand, broken and shattered and desperate. Others will reflect back to you your courage while you show them the shards, the  shattered, the desperation, the will give them the gift of compassion.

Tuesday, December 31, 2013


Collecting spirit-shards is no fun.

It is what I do.

I collect spirit-shards.

Some people collect shells.

I used to collect shells on pretty island beaches.

Now I collect spirit shards.

I am thinking that it is time to open my own little store on etsy. Maybe I will name it spirit-shards.

I will sell the shards of my spirit out to whoever may find beauty or peace or friendship in them.

What else can I do with my art, if not share it and offer it as gifts of my perseverance.

Art keeps my spirit from being crushed underneath the pain, the anxiety, the terror.

I keep my sanity, my spirit in tact.

I would like to have my own little store on etsy.

And I would like to publish this little blog.

I have to clean it up first.

I pray for you, that your pain levels get controlled again. I pray for you that you regain strength and health and stability and balance. I pray for you so much, with all my heart cuz I know what good spirit you are. And I love life through you cuz I know you so intimately and I love you and cherish you in the way that I want all living things to be respected and honored.

The sheep. The wool industry. Factory Farming.

Factory Farming is a monster like Pudendal Neuralgia. It tortures and subjugates.

My little spirit is a part of a much larger spirit. I long to touch this larger spirit. Sometimes I do. Dear God, thank you. sometimes I do.

Blog, hello. I wish that I had happy words to write to you.

Happy things: I found cruelty-free wool. Now, I can continue making my angels. And my angels, in turn can teach about the horrors of the wool industry and about the small farms that sell roving wool from sheep that grow with love, compassion and appreciation.

I wish that I could do more to fight against the meat industry and the wool industry. I wish that I could live my life in a healthy body. Every day is a new mountain to climb. I have to push my way through the anxiety, through hours of sleepless nights, my body, I try to  work hard within myself, to give myself compassion and patience. I try to love myself, to respect myself, to honor my efforts, my perseverance...

I dream of my art, of creating art with other women. I dream of hope and faith and the alleviation of suffering. Angels, sheep, my own little spirit bound to this little body.

I try to remember that I am not useless. I try to keep my spirit alive and awake and engaged, believing that I can be a leader somehow, a guide somehow for others that are new to this suffering. Every day is its own little mountain, my little flag of life raised above my head, marching onwards, to where?

Small sweet things. Small sweet things.



I gather.



Small. Sweet. Things that mean something to me.

Spirit. Art. Hope. Faith.

My little worn out body.

In a world that moves so quickly.

I have fallen way behind my flock.

Me. Spirit. And another mountain to climb with the little flag of life raised above my head.

For me. For me to see. To keep on moving.

Saturday, December 14, 2013

I would like to continue to grow
That is my prayer and my hope
If I cannot grow here then I will grow somewhere else

I will go
I will grow

I will seek understanding and wisdom,

And I will find humility
and forgiveness

within myself

I am sorry

for your suffering

deeply sorry

Tuesday, November 26, 2013


damn this disease that makes me write fragmented forms of feminine

thinking of a title for this blog

if I ever print it into book form, it needs a title

what kind of title am I going to find

all I can think of is female fragments

damn this disease, stomp it out

any ideas from anyone out there?

I am starting to feel like an idiot, an inane idiot with all these fragmented

Fragmented females

Woman fragments

Fragments of an as-if woman

the as-if woman

Or maybe,

Fragments of a Woman

How is that for a title?

Fragments of a Woman