35/2021

Everything feels dire right now.

I’m not sure I can process it. Every time I allow myself to sink into real awareness of some of the things happening outside my house I damn near double over and want to cry. It’s not just the huge stuff that I probably don’t have to name, either — I’m worried about us individually — everyone I know seems to feel like they’ve got a gaping hole in their chest these days.

What to do in times like this, when you’ve donated all the resources you can, when you’ve done your part on the personal and civic level, when you’ve voted your peace, when you’ve done your best to listen to and understand opposing views, to keep getting through? I don’t know. But I do know this — when I don’t know, I start digging in, trying to figure out how to deal with myself and how I feel. Since I’m lucky, since I’m an artist, that means tinkering with words and sounds, colors and textures. 

I’ve told y’all before that when I was a girl, I’d often be walking around a store with Mama and we’d spy something we wanted. Knowing we could rarely afford to buy clothes just because we wanted them, she’d usually respond to my longing words with, “we can make that.” Though I have a somewhat healthier clothes budget these days, I still hear those words when I see something I think I could whip up myself. I am grateful to her for instilling that willingness to be capable in me — watching her stay up nights making shirts and dresses for my sister and me to wear to school or a dress for herself to wear to work was the best example of how to make my world the best it could be whatever my resources, though I didn’t realize it then. Same for my daddy — he always did all the work on the house and around, he dug every post hole, made and mended every fence, and planted every new pine that went in the ground. They both taught us how to not only love but to MAKE music, the greatest gift of all of the gifts. They taught us it was our responsibility to improve our worlds and shape our realities. 

So, the only thing I can think of to do right now is hunker down and get to work on something. Excavate the truth, get to the bottom of the feelings, express them, create something out of it all that wasn’t there before. 

I’m going into the studio next week.

Art is breath, bread, and water. 

Art is a way out of despair. 

Art is a mirror — where we reveal, reflect, and can see ourselves clearly. 

Art is communion. 

Art is healing.

Art is now.

You may not think you are as lucky as I am. You may not think that you are an artist. But you ARE.  You are because you are part of this world. It’s up to us to keep up this place, to keep making it what we know it can be. Let’s sing, let’s shape and fire, let’s sling paint, let’s string words together into beautiful sentences, let’s crank up our amps, let’s make our homes restorative to our souls, let’s experiment, let’s host parties, let’s rest in the pleasure of life’s little joys, let’s plant gardens, let’s invest in the relationships that encourage us to grow, let’s By God dance, let’s do the individual beauty making that is specific to each of us, let’s locate our nerve to be great and re-find our dignity, let’s help, let’s save, let’s live like the walking masterpieces that we are and let’s teach our children to do the same. Doing those things will not solve our problems, but they’ll damn sure help us get through them at least a little easier and might even lead to new ideas. We can all watch and read only so much news. Let’s get inspired so we can inspire. If art begets art and art is love, then art begets love. That’s how it works, right?

We may have different versions of it, but I believe we all envision a beautiful world. 

As my Mama said — we can make that. 

Use the tools at hand. 

Sending love everywhere,

AM

Recommended reading: “Good Bones,” by Maggie Smith

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