about this year

slhouettes

papillons

On 1 January I felt ready to get on with the hand-moulding of my little earth planet that I had embarked upon in the Spring of last year, I felt I needed to do some catching up. Things had been moving too slowly perhaps as I had enjoyably sidetracked myself for the last four months of 2017 in a public project with a fellow artist : the occupation of a local disused train station for use as a place of exhibition and conversation. I felt ready to move mountains for about a day until I got methodically stalled : dramatic weather, mothering duties, yet another visiting pine marten, the accidental spraying of expanding foam in my right eye and ensuing conjunctivitis, and more. When I was growing up in France the accepted wisdom was that you could wish someone a happy new year until the end of January, and yet the year is still new to me today on the first day of the second month—so happy elevenmonth to all, that 2018 surprises us with joyful developments…

Now that I am arguably making progress again and really excited about what I am plotting, I am pleased that I have been forced to sit still, calm down and consider my chosen tasks. My life is not just about getting stuff done, I needed to ponder how and where I am heading, and head there joyfully and not against some arbitrary clock. It’s not enough to focus on moving forward, shaking off the dust of previous years, I also needed to remember who I am, to bring all of me along.

I remember that the first toy I ever asked for when given the chance as a child was a garage and that it had a lift and a ramp. I am moderately interested in cars (I am, however, really grateful for my bearhug of a car) but I like tools, simple mechanical things and rusty metal. I am happy when I am making or fixing things, thinking about or talking to people about how to make or fix things, or watching other people who are good at making and fixing things, but I have learned to be content to sometimes do nothing at all, and I do love sleeping. I remember that when I do not rush I am always happy, that perhaps my true nature is rather slow even though I can talk and act fast and furious. I remember that I love silence, that it’s not always necessary to talk, that I have recently learned to not always react or respond and that I always feel proud that I can hold my tongue now (I don’t always choose to).

My 2017 resolutions did not come to pass, yet—I wanted to dance more and learn to work with silver (a bigger dream again is to make something heavy and big in cast iron, the weight, the fire, the liquid metal)—so they will carry over into this year. For this year my resolution is for the country I live in and where I don’t have a vote to change the constitution so that women be finally respected as human beings.

My neighbour gave me two Saint Brigid’s Crosses he made for me today, one for where I live and one for where I work. All will be well.

 

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