Drowning in life.

Untitled, Red Mono Print, 2013 18" x 24"

By definition drowning means to die by submersion in water.  I feel as if I am drowning right now.  I'm not drowning in a pool of water but rather in the pool of my life, full submersion.  It is not pleasant.  Have any of you experienced drowning?  I have.  I experienced drowning when I could actually touch the sand with my feet but was too scared to know that.  I feel that way now.  My life is coming like swells over my head as I gasp for air before the next one.  My art practice getting buried under the multiple types of animal shit in my non-winterized studio, under my son's demanding intelligence, under my growing teaching career, under my crumbling house, under my husbands work load....today as I spent 4 precious non-child hours shoveling roots out of my studio so that I may work in the future I wonder....I wonder the relentless question of am I doing the right thing?  Am I really an artist or supposed to be an artist?  Is my effort of value, to whom?  What the fuck am I doing? I feel like I'm drowning.

Maybe tomorrow I can tread water, breath enough to get some perspective.  Maybe I'm actually totally safe and can touch the ground and just don't know it.  Grounded?  Maybe I can enjoy the swells of my life.  Maybe I can make art with it.

The last two weeks I rented a print studio to do some mono-printing, sort of as a starting point for the season.  I am really-really pleased with the work that came to be.  In fact a waterfall of work spewed out, gushed out....poured all over the fucking place and its awesome.

This is one of many.

May I breathe, may I see the grace.

Whats this need?

Detail of weaving project.  Summers scarf, silk shirt, 70's polyester shirt and the one she gave me.

Detail: White Rice that smells like recent laundry detergent, Vintage black lace, J.Crew, the one she gave me (or did I claim it?)

Detail: One of the shirts from the last months.

Its coming along slowly...a couple shirts a day.

I have been working at this daily and it is a very slow process.  I suppose in the slow process without a clear end in sight I hear all the questions and watch the thoughts move in and out of the ropes.  "What am I doing?"  "Why am I special?" "How many ways can I see Summer?" "Wow, it takes so long." "This is stupid, I am stupid."  "Should this become something else?"  "Is what I'm making just this?"  "What is this?"  "This is hard"  "I don't want to let her clothes become something else."  "I don't want her to be gone." 

I also knitted a scarf this week and started hand built coil pots....hand meditations, physical thoughts, touching the Autumn sadness, making something, being it.