No. 51 – Mayday, Mayday!
The primordial lake is bubbling over
Welcome to the latest issue of Feed the Monster: a monthly art journal for creative, curious, imperfect and sometimes disheveled humans.
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My friend J. McLaughlin says that seven-eighths of the way through a project—or seven-eighths of the way through work toward an art show—is when you suddenly start to have doubts about what you’re doing. You’re almost at the finish line when—BAM—you’re questioning your own credibility. I’m definitely experiencing this phenomenon with Life’s Work: A Visual Memoir. I’ve been writing, drawing and painting about my mother in her most vulnerable moments with Lewy Body dementia, and about myself as a defenseless child, for over two years. Now that the show is imminent I’m suddenly seeing this work through the eyes of an infant who’s shaking in her little space boots. I’m wondering… what the hell do I think I'm doing?
The brain is a funny place—you can’t take it too seriously. Woe is she who believes her own thoughts!
But some of these aren’t thoughts, exactly. Some of it is ancient, primordial fear rising up from a deep, dank, muddy lake at the base of my unconscious. It results from the fact that I’m using my voice. I’m not staying silent. I’m exposing raw feelings and I’m exposing my family. I’m betraying my mother. Or so the muddy lake is telling me in furtive murmurs.
Having garden-variety doubts about your work is one thing—most of us have experienced this at one time or another. It’s not fun, but when you learn to recognize that it’s not necessarily the truth, you can move on. In time.
Rumblings from the place that time forgot are different. How you learned to interact with the world at a very young age—how you learned to best survive as a small, powerless, and essentially trapped individual—is likely always with you. If, like me, you learned that it was safer to stay quiet about what you perceived around you and not poke the bear, it can be very difficult to speak out.
It took me many years to allow myself to be an artist. Now, I’m not only an artist, I’m also exposing highly personal, vulnerable stuff. I might as well be jumping off the side of the moon.
HEY, NO PROBLEM!
These things can be overcome, if you’re ready for an ogre battle.
Baby steps… baby steps.
I’m being shown once again that anything is possible.
Given enough goddamned time.
About this here Feed the Monster I’ve been emailing out monthly for four years now. It’s really important to me. Marrying words and artwork brings me a satisfaction I don’t find elsewhere—it’s kind of like putting together my own little online magazine every month. An art journal with writing and (I hope) interesting things to look at, that I get to assemble the way I want.
I write about whatever I want, but it usually has to do with making art, the creative process, associated pitfalls and roadblocks, being human, and general earthling vulnerability.
I’ve written before about an online memoir writing workshop I took through Hedgebrook called The Surprising Power of Vulnerability, led by Claire Dederer. Dederer showed how exposing uncomfortable or difficult truths in your memoir "builds a shelter for your reader", and that speaks to me. Author and teacher of memoir writing Marion Roach Smith characterizes this kind of transparency as a kindness. Indeed, when I bare my neck in my writing for FTM is when I feel I’m fulfilling my purpose here.
I don’t know where I want this to go. Maybe I just want to develop my voice. Maybe I want to get better at writing. Maybe it’s just a way of getting the continuing saga of Life’s Work: A Visual Memoir and other artwork out into the world. All of the above, I suppose.
I’ve been wondering lately if Feed the Monster needs a more clear purpose or concept. I’ve been wondering how I can add value. I’ve also been thinking about “going paid”, which is something you can do on here on Substack. I’d still send FTM out for free, but those who wanted to support me with their wallets could pay $5.00 USD per month, or $50.00 USD for the year. This is the least you can charge on Substack.
Would my readers feel more inclined to support me financially if they were following along as Life’s Work becomes a bona fide graphic memoir? I’m going to start painting the story from start to finish soon—posting images as it develops would be a kind of serialization of the story. But what if I digress one month, and write about something else? Would that be a broken promise?
PLEASE CONSIDER THIS A DIRECT APPEAL FOR YOUR THOUGHTS ON THE MATTER.
Does Feed the Monster need a more clear-cut concept, something dependable and predictable each month? Or are you fine with a certain amount of unpredictability?
Would you consider paying anything for my efforts?
Would you be more likely to do so for the serialization of Life’s Work, the graphic memoir?
Would you feel ripped off if I digressed one month?
What if I did something different for three months… a series of paintings I’ve been thinking of doing for a couple of years now? It would be a kind of self-imposed 100 Day Project. And it would be a break from thinking about my mother. Then I would start the graphic memoir.
How else could I add value? What’s missing?
Please make a comment. If you’d rather your thoughts remain private, you can hit reply at the bottom of this email.
I will greatly appreciate any of your input.
TALK TO ME.
This post wouldn’t be complete without mentioning my UPCOMING EXHIBIT at the Victoria Arts Council.
Life’s Work: A Visual Memoir is opening Friday, June 3rd—with a reception from 7:00 - 9:00 pm—and runs till July 17th.
From my website:
The memoir is primarily about the last five years of my mother’s life, after she’d been diagnosed with Lewy Body dementia. It’s also about my uneasy relationship with her growing up, and how that made dealing with her dementia a kind of spiritual quest I didn’t know I was going to have to make.
There’ll be paintings, drawings, portraits, graphic memoir, banners, sketchbook pages, and an installation in a vault. Flying monkeys. No. No flying monkeys. My manager says I can’t have flying monkeys (I don’t have a manager).
Come on down June 3rd! And bring some cash—there’ll be beer and wine by donation.
Last but not least…
HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHLOE!
HI! Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed this edition of FEED THE MONSTER, please won’t you like, share, or comment on it. Or tell just one person about it! Word of mouth is how work like this gets noticed and sustained. Thank you.
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Oh yes, I have also experienced those thoughts of "who do I think I am making this work?"
I'm also ok with unpredictability as I really enjoy reading whatever is going on with you. I have been caught in that situation where I promised to send out something then I feel pressure to get it done and rush through it and it ends up being less than what I promised. Hope that makes sense!
Omg, *the place that time forgot* — yes. I find these rumbling are particularly loud when you wake up in the middle of the night and can't get back to sleep. Too much primordial ooze, thanks!
My quick reply to your Qs: I'm fine with and even appreciate a certain amount of unpredictability, and would rather read what you're actually thinking about or excited to do in the moment vs. what you promised or feel obligated to do. Clear-cut, dependable, predictable... not really craving that from FTM, to be honest!