As I was “resting” last Saturday, now, I was trying to rest, mind you, I realized that every painting of mine has a story. I’m sure this is true for every artist? Hence, this blog, eh? One day I shall resume painting and the peculiar storytelling of the painting … alas, we shall see … soon enough, I hope. Until then, let us tell the stories of the very first, THE very first paintings I ever did, not counting of course the finger paintings I did when I was five, which I destroyed in a fit of rage. Long story that.
Blues is the title of the above painting. I had what the TMJ surgeon said was the worst case of Temporomandibular Joint Disfunction he’d ever seen. He even used it as a case study, with my permission of course, for the University of Maryland Dental School, when they took off my upper jaw and moved it back a few millimeters … long story. I can eat raw carrots and stuff now. But back then, in 1993, lonnnnnngggggg story, I could barely make facial expressions, talk, etc. without excruciating pain. I didn’t have to move to have excruciating pain. Moving caused pain. Etc. It was HELL. What gives with me? See, I’ve decided many times over and over that I must be some kind of special case in mental and physical pain something something tests for God, like in patience or something. This is why I am a Buddhist. This is why I learned to meditate. I digress.
I was working at the Friends Committee on National Legislation (FCNL, check them OUT, they ROCK) at the time and my colleagues suggested that I use art therapy to get some of my emotions out. See, all this time, since I destroyed the finger paintings, since I doodled in ball-point ink in the margins of my notebooks in school and college, since I haunted the Dana Fine Arts Building at Agnes Scott College without daring to take an arts class there EVER — fearing somehow instruction would BREAK my spirit, break ME. All that time, no instruction, not a brush stroke. You get it. So Blues was my first painting, blah blah blue. All the blue I could put in there, all the sadness and pain and anger I could get onto a piece of copy paper without destroying the paper.
I showed it to no one? I don’t remember.
My second painting was Cloud. But that is for another day, another story, another piece of copy paper, and I did show people that painting. Hello.
When I came to the blog today I wanted to call it De Lihr, De Back, De Spine. Oh well. I had already decided yesterday to do the stories. Hee. I am delirious and dissociated again today, from the cold, from … ? whatever is making me dissociated and from lack of sleep. Long story.
Met with the spine surgeon today and he said to wear the left arm brace at night while I sleep for six weeks to get the hand numbness to go away. We hope.
He refers me to a pain management specialist for … that. And gave me a refill of Percocet in the meantime.
Do the core exercises on the exercise ball. Doesn’t require the right blood clot arm. Cool. Duh.
See me in three months for a) neck x-ray, b) hopefully resolution of blood clots, c) discussion of lower back. Call me if lower back freaks out before then.
Did Safeway run. Got paintings check in mail. To bed. To blog. To bed again. You got it.