My heart broke in Tasmania

I think I have blogged less than ever before, I think I have become far more weary of what to share, I’m more uncertain about my work and practice and where it all sits. What it all means. Maybe I am searching for meaning and there is none. I don’t know where my place is in this world and when I think I am onto something, I’m wrong. It doesn’t work out.

I’ve been off kilter since May – since my time in Western Tasmania. I came back three weeks early and I’ve never fully written about what happened there, and I won’t – but I didn’t come back simply because I missed my family. I found myself in a deeply unpleasent situtaion and I thought I’d cut my losses and get out of there rather than push through to have an exhibiton. I didn’t take a car with me and there is only a bus on Tuesdays and Fridays ( which I do recommened, the people there are so incredibly lovely ) – so I went and stayed in a hostel until the bus day came.
After this I couldn’t really talk about it and I didn’t go into my studio. I threw myself into the domestics, I took my kid to the school dance and did our hair all silly. I just thought I’d leave the Art and the Artist part of me be. I thought I’d do those things and it would pass and it’s almost mid September, I’m not sure it has. I’m working again but the stop start is greater than usual, I still don’t feel like I have it.

Humiliation is probably one of the worst things to feel about oneslef and ones work – but I think that that best word to express how I feel about it all. How I feel about myself, currently.

How can a place move me so much but be so hard for me to get back to?
I still dream about it, and then I wake up. I have explored certain routes to get myself back there and it isn’t working. I do now know what I do wrong so right now – I am not doing anything.

I feel like this year I am turning myself inside out and paths that I used to take that worked are now exhausted. I don’t really know what to do next.

Somepart of me unraveled, and I can’t work out what part. But it feels almost like my heart broke in Tasmania, and I don’t know how to fix it.

I loved it there, I am so thankful I got to go and to meet some of the best people. I just can’t seem to make things right for myself and it seemed to have come from that time. Perhaps it is a case of being in two places at once, wanting to be but I cannot be.

One thought on “My heart broke in Tasmania

  1. ‘How can a place move me so much but be so hard for me to get back to?’

    I know that feeling; I have it with New Zealand. It’s the place of so much love yet so much pain, and most of my practice is about trying (and failing) to bridge that gap. To reconcile.

    Without knowing what happened in Tasmania, I wonder if perhaps, as you have suggested, it’s time for a redirection. Perhaps something has brought you close to some coalface, some fear or pointedness that can’t be broached unless you’ve got some distance (geographical and psychological).

    I’ve no doubt that you have all the resources you need. I’ve spent the best part of 2017 making nothing – a process which is mind bending for an artist. The bottom falls out of yourself when you can’t even do the thing you’ve built your life around. In my case it was because I was dealing with things that were too frightening and too close for me to comprehend. I’ve needed those months of stagnation and scraping the bottom of the barrel to return to that safe distance where I can observe the fear for what it is in the safety of being away from it’s source.

    Be kind to yourself. We’re humans, not machines. The art will come back, I’m sure.

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