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 my 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 tlist 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 of looking at other artist's work and thinking how crappy my art is next to their artwork.


Today I was rejected from The NOS Summer Selective and from the New Art Centre Holtzwasser 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 in 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 a 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 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, 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.
























My art. I am destroying my paintings, feeling so unsatisfied with what I see. I have given up on painting flowers. I have to paint. It keeps my mind off of pain, it keeps anxiety at bay, it keeps me inspired and engaged and wanting to reach something. This something is nowhere, I can't grasp it, I don't know what it is. I feel estranged from what comes out onto the canvas. I don't understand what it is telling me. Maybe I do, and I just don't want to see it. How mediocre I am. How I don't know how to paint flowers. How I don't know how to create depth, or foreground and background. How impatient I am. How impulsive. How wasteful with the paints. How critical and self-effacing I am. How miserable I feel. How aching is my body. How unsure. How afraid. How directionless. How messy and clumsy and angry and despondent and broken down I am. I take it all out on my paintings, I search for the ancient, for the used, for the layers, the peelings, the forgotten, the all alone, the terrified, the uncertain.....And I can't paint flowers.


I can't paint flowers. At least not the kind that you want me to paint. I painted you blue flowers and you destroyed them. I painted a table that looked like a woman's body. And a dark red vase that looked like an open wound. And you destroyed it.


I can't understand what I am trying to reach. I am mostly tired, aching, pained. Mostly struggling, mostly fighting.


Fighting with myself.


Mostly not accepting myself.