“I am completely lost.
I can’t draw, I can’t paint, I can’t even string thoughts together – can’t breathe.
This year has been brutal and nothing is easing up, nothing is becoming clear or making any sense.
I keep trying and trying – gently or from a different angle and nothing – nothing – is working.
I can’t make work.
Is what I just wrote some thirty minutes ago, just when I came back home through the storm. I have been trying to make art happen for weeks now. It’s not happening.
I don’t know how to paint anymore. I can barely draw. I don’t know how to gain that excitement and how to push through any self doubt. It’s all so loud in my head.
This year did start off promising however it has all drastically changed.
My father in law, a very good and well loved man, became ill in May and since then we have been back and forth between Melbourne, the hospital and his home in rural Victoria. We’ve been back and forth between packing, sorting, arranging, working, childrearing, caring, shopping, etc, etc-ing.
We eventually moved out here to look after and support him and his partner, he passed away just three weeks ago.
I think, I hear, that grief is a process. It keeps coming at everyone in different shapes at different times on different days.
It’s not about art, it’s not about my not being able to make it anymore – it’s about learning to step back a bit when life has jumped right in and going through the motions. However horrible they may be.
Fuck it’s gruelling though.
So, I’m going to take my time.