Pain in the Art
Art in the Pain
The house is buzzing every time I go outside. A low hum, the buzzing is a vibrational energy that hits me in the exact register of my anxiety. Like a caffeine buzz of one shot of espresso past where it would have been more prudent to stop. When you slow, you can see them, the mud dauber wasps floating about with their back legs dangling. Rather graceful, if not also a touch threatening, perhaps that’s why I like them. I’m not into the buzzing though, it creeps me out. I haven’t found any of their nests, but I think they’ve taken up residence in the gutters around the house. I liberate one to three of them each morning when I’m upstairs in my yoga space. I try to keep my practice to a more intimate number of no more than three wasps hovering nearby as I stretch my body to prepare for meditation. I tolerate their presence inside and around the house because at the ChicFinn we try to not harm pollinators. Even though around this time each year I begin the delicate dance of de-screening the windows to encourage the creatures to fly back to the great outdoors, I’m not sure if I’ve ever noticed the house vibrating with their thrum before. Maybe, this buzz is the same level of tense energy I feel in the air everywhere I go, a new weather metric in need of an ability to count, like pollen, humidity, or UV. Is this what the weather app means by “pressure” I wonder as I wander with the pups on one of our stretch breaks.
I’ve found that living in the country has allowed me to more closely observe nature’s cycles. We’re in the first wave of biting fly season, where the deer flies whip around your head in quick and wild loops. After they die off we’ll have the second wood tick boom which will precede the ant invasion attempts. It’s satisfying to know I can observe these cycles and begin to be able to prepare for each wax and wane. I wish I was as good at knowing my own cycles, or better understanding my periods of work and rest in ways that helps me feel less like the passenger on an out of control roller coaster ride, and more like the sage crone in her forest hut. But at least knowing when the Asian Beetles are going to return helps me feel some sense of connection to this land, this house, this life.
A friend recently reminded me of my cycles when she saw me wincing when I sat down. I explained, actually it’s not so bad right now, and I’m in the queue to get a cortisol shot to help alleviate my pain. She asked if the pain was like the time when we went to the casino to celebrate Vaimo’s birthday. I tried to recall that birthday season, attempting to trace backwards in my mind what exact year that would’ve been. Pre-pandemic for sure… I just checked the Instagram story archive and it turns out in February of 2019 I was cooling a gluten-free, date sweetened carrot cake outside in negative eleven degree Fairenhieght before running to the painting studio to squeeze in some time at my easel ahead of celebrating Vaimo’s birthday with friends. But my friend’s question really made me think. “My back was hurting then?” I honestly couldn’t remember. That’s the thing about chronic pain though, I’ve found there’s not really a discernible cycle because it’s all just pretty much…bad.
I told my psychiatrist in May that a sign I could go off my antidepressants was that I was taking my back pain seriously. I’d recently begun physical therapy and after doing my time was eventually referred to the back specialist at my clinic. Everyone keeps asking, “how long has it been like this?” And I’m like, "I don’t know, I honestly can’t remember," but the reason I started seeking treatment is that it finally became too much for me to handle. When I start wincing when I sit down, gasping for breath when I move, or any other external cue that I’m in pain that others can see, my brain finally accepts that maybe this isn’t good to keep living with while also hoping that possibly conditions could be different. But to be real, when you’re in the haze of living beside chronic pain the cycles are really unpredictable and can range from tolerable because it’s not as bad, bad, worse, bad, unbearable, new worst, eh, maybe not so bad.
As I wait patiently for the gift of an epidural in my spinal cord delivering a concentrated steroid to my tender collapsing areas of my L4 and L5 vertebrae, the Doc gave me an oral steroid series that lasted six days. Not pumped about the immune-suppressing side-effect nor the WebMD warning that “in rare cases this medicine can stop someone’s heart,” I courageously swallowed my first 8mg dose. And oh, what sweet, sweet relief I found. Let me see if I can try to explain it in words. My body felt like I was 18 again. Strong, capable, able to take on anything. The pain was gone for that first day of my treatment. I painted for 12 hours after only getting four hours of sleep the night before and felt like I could have kept going for 12 more. Not only was my back free of pain but my hands and wrists and the rest of my body plagued by inflammation felt gloriously unencumbered, free to move without aches and stiffness. I was reminded that this pain is not a constant, that there can be relief from it. Short-lived as that experience was, I never shy away from an opportunity for contemplation. What can this teach me I wondered to myself on day two of my medicinal course which sadly was not as glorious as the first one but still good nonetheless. I guess I learned that my body is also constantly buzzing, and that I too am in need of a change in seasons, conditions, environment to prepare for the next iteration of life alongside my chronic pain. I’ve been living with the static of my pain far beyond its usefulness, even as I worry about who I might be without it. How would I paint these feelings I wonder? What brushstroke could capture the tumult of feeling like your legs are about to suddenly give out from under you? What motion captured in paint could represent the sharp shooting pain finding a path through muscles connecting one’s toe to one’s spine? What color can evoke the dread of wondering what tomorrow will bring, yet also provide a touch of hopefulness that there is beauty in the unknown, the unknowable, the unpredictable?
I’ve also spotted three paper wasp nests hanging under the eaves of our wonderful house. I like to feel like we’re special, like these hornets have chosen us because they feel safe. I know we should remove their structures after they move out in the fall to discourage them from starting anew next summer, but like my back I’m sure we will deal with it only when it becomes a worse problem. For now I’m finding joy in the delicate crepe shaped hollows they are making in this perfect circle formation. It’s really only a matter of time until these marvels, really all of it, ends up in a painting.
What I’m Reading
A Ballad of Love and Glory by Reyna Grande
As a youth Historical Fiction was one of my go-to genres. And then as life tends to happen I began gravitating away from the books that might fall into that category. While I’m not going to be running to the historical fiction section of the library or bookstore any time soon, I was positively enraptured by Reyna Grande’s A Ballad of Love and Glory set in 1846 as Polk rages war against Mexico with General Zachary Taylor at the helm of the invasion. The book chronicles various historical figures and mainly revolves around a battalion of Irish US Army defectors whose assistance under Santa Ana’s direction aid the Mexican troops in this bloody takeover. What I appreciated the most about the work was way Grande notes her desire to make this conflict better understood in the US and her ability to complicate allegiances to nation states that work to uphold alternative visions in contrasting rich scenes of community and belonging. I take pleasure in more people better understanding the theft of half of the landmass of Mexico by the US though this story and opportunities to better understand the legacies shaping our today from that conquest. Grande also is a beautiful writer (most notably known for non-fiction) but it turns out she also has the chops for fiction as well.
Artist Offerings
- I’ve been exploring this Xicanx Art Exhibition with this amazing interactive website, hosted by the Museum of Anthropology at the University of British Colombia
- On Beyoncé’s new album cover comparisons as root of reaffirming white supremacist notions of art through the primacy of white art history canons
- I’ve gotten lost in these colors and patterns brought to us by Caroline Liu
- A high school classmate, Lily Maase recently released this album which she describes as "a rock opera about damage, courage, loss and letting go" it's fueled some of my recent painting sessions!
- In light of complicated global realities I trust Coco Fusco's on the ground knowledge of the human rights violation against artists speaking out against Cuban leaders as she details on e-flux
- Mexican American Art Since 1848 - is an amazing digital database resource - read about the creators and the rhizomes here
Creative Ritual
Two paintings moving off the wall and my last two are ready for the painting marathon to commence. I am feeling like I'm in a metaphor that marathon runners experience or so I've been told- like I’m near the end but not close enough to feel any sort of relief about it, just rather more like doubt I will be able to pull off what I’ve planned. Regardless of what happens I will be ok. I’ll either have 13 or 15 paintings to bring to the gallery in August. It’s the largest body of work I’ve made in cubic feet of substrates and number of works. I had originally planned for 16, I’m going to be very pleased with 15 if I make it. I’ll share again, don’t be alarmed if I am MIA for the next newsletter, though I am realizing it's really good for me to take some time away from the canvas and do this kind of painting/writing too. In addition to the usual things happening in the studio I applied for a Minnesota State Arts Board grant to support my practice, I’ll learn of funding in January of 2023. Please feel free to visit my shop and support the work in any way you can since that's so far away I'll be a completely different person by then!
Questions to ponder
What’s buzzing around you, in your ear, your spirit?
What might need to be reassessed in terms of a static quo shaping your existence?
How are you seeking relief these days?
How is nature inspiring marvel near your home?
Thanks for journeying with me. I hope, as always, that you take what you need and leave the rest for someone else, or for another time.
-KCF
