Oh no--no matter how nice everyone has been--and people have been very very kind. Businesses and friends have gone out of their way for me in ways I dare not expect and can't but appreciate and cherish. Still no matter how hard I try to accept it--and I do try very very hard--there is a part of me that is screaming inside--"NO!" "Let me wake up from this nightmare. This is really not happening to me. Tomorrow I can go back to my happy contented life at 2 Conway Street and create the quilts of my dreams."
OK--I know that is not going to happen. I know I should be so grateful. And indeed I am. After all, I lost my studio--my home away from home--but not my home. More importantly I did not lose any one near and dear to me. That would have been unimaginable. And I don't want to seem unthankful for all those who have been so kind to me. This is just a passing moment and I do appreciate and cherish your lovely and gracious actions--please do not get me wrong.
I did have my best quilts with me and within me. I can rebuild. Maybe even making better quilts or a better career. I have an absolutely wonderful husband who will do anything he can for me. I have great friends. A great community both in Shelburne Falls and in the general art/quilt community.
I know deep in my heart that I was/am very very lucky. Yet sometimes I cry. I scream with rage. I hope to wake up. I hope this is not wrong. I hope this is just normal.
Meanwhile I try to make quilts that contain the mud. Maybe it is too soon. Maybe I need to make quilts about rebirth. Dawn. Maybe a complex quilt will contain my feelings. Not sure. I will try a new quilt tomorrow--see if that tames the anguish inside me.
For now though this is my first quilt of the mud season. I hope you will bear with me as I try to sort through this random act of whatever.
What do you think? How do you cope? Is working through mud the answer or should I go to dawn? How do you use the rage against the night?
Hi Ann. I just "met" you (on Twitter) because of the storm. I heard about you because of your loss. So there's one more consequence for you, for what it's worth. I love this quilt. I see the mud, I see the dawn. Both are there. I imagine that you will have to work through the mud, because you're an artist and that's what's there to work. I make art just that way -- collecting my fears and confusion and anguish as well as my hopes and joys and transforming them in the crucible of my studio. I'm sorry you lost your studio, because a studio contains all of the energy of that work. I wish you increasing ease in your new space and strength to move forward.
ReplyDeleteyour new friend, Annie from Northampton
Thank you so much Annie. You are absolutely right that one of the "positive" things of Irene is the many wonderful people that I have met as I sort through all this. I am sure that I will ease into the new space and ease into the new art. It is all so new to me and I had to get a new studio before I could begin to feel. Thanks again.
ReplyDeleteI see à glorious dawn at THE beach! No mud . À new beginning.
ReplyDeleteI think it's interesting you used these long strips instead of THE blocks you usually do.
Hi Ann, I also have not met you (however I've had your blog listed in my blog list for a while) and I am hoping that your friends, new and old, will help you keep your sanity through this tough time. I think it's perfectly OK to scream. Scream until you are hoarse and then reach for some fabric. I also see the "dawn" in your new piece. Just let it out in whatever way you can and it will be just right for you. Wishing you blessings and a bright new beginning! Nancy Turbitt
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