Tuesday, October 9, 2012

i, woman. me, jane.

Musicians' Rehearsal in oil on canvas by Jeffrey Lewis Meridian Museum of Art 1990 Best of Show
Processed by me in sepia tone, shown at the museum in beautiful color.

It wouldn't have worked out anyway. That's what I tell myself, and I have a case. I think.

The case. well.
The worse thing about making a case.      sigh.
The worst thing about making a case is that you find you are the case.

So I think he would have this control thing where he would need me to be a certain way for the mutual happiness of the union. The union. It sounds official or committed or contractual or a prison sentence. You can take your breaks here in this fenced in area while wearing this uniform.

How long did it take Andy to dig that tunnel?

So I think in order to not be with someone who has control issues on how I need to cook or clean or behave or live in my own body I may need to look at how I control. What are my expectations of another?

My writing and photo editing vs his sleep.
Could you really ask someone to give up their sleep?
Their writing?
Their life?

And I do.
I think about that.
I see people who do it and make it look easy and I see those who make it look excruciating. I figure the best ones are the ones that don't make it look like anything. Ya' know, the ones who don't talk about how absolutely in love they are and how you complete me and soul mate forever and ever amen. Kiss the cook.

The best, it seems to me, just seem naturally happy.
But what do I know?

She is this beautiful woman who plays in my head. She has an apron and wears lipstick when cooking and she sits on the floor and reads to her eleven kids and her house is always clean and she is brilliant and do I have to go on to the point I ask her, What is your secret?

And she always smiles in the most condescending way, You just give up everything.

Everything? Even break time?

She giggles. How does she keep her lipstick so nice?

You don't get to keep any part of you?

There is nothing I wouldn't give up for him. She looks at me with this weird concern as if I wouldn't have already known that.

He asks me, What do we get for this?
I don't know, I say. Maybe one of those little gold star stickers in heaven.

Plot unknown, Location: Giant Peach Building in colored photo by Rita Dewitt
Meridian Museum of Art 1980 Best of Show

Today I am grateful she is only a fictional character.

Symbiotic Ties #1 in airbrush on canvas by Chip Spirson
Meridian Museum of Art 1975 Best of Show


Chantel said...

Oh Shea, she haunts me so. Chasing me in my dreams....her apron frightens me.

I've already given so much...it's uncertain what is left.

Anonymous said...

Kinda like playin poker and makin vegetable soup, just gotta do the best you can with what ya got.

Shea Goff said...

My dear sweet wonderful friend, Chantel. I have no answers for you because we've already established I don't know shit. I definitely don't know your particular situation. All I know is you are an excellent artist, a loving mother and wife.

What I think today is that we all, single and married folk alike, have those oh crap, what have I done moments that can cause us to tense up, freak out and start digging. The best thing I have found to do was be honest about it. If anyone ever asked me to describe you I would say that Chantel, she is a real gal. She is definitely honest.

Much love to you.

Shea Goff said...

There ya' go, anonymous. Words of the wise. Thank you.