I really like Valerie Milovic's work. I've put up some of her pieces here before but I was browsing her site again tonight, (Here's a perfect example of how the ADD mind works, I saw a piece of hers on eBay tonight, I thought, "Wow, I really like this", I went to her site, looked at some of the art and then only gradually did it dawn on me that not only had I seen it before, but that I had already put it up on my journal before), and thought I'd share a piece from her Broken Toys series.
I wish I could create art like this, I've just never been able to draw. It kills me when artists devalue their ability to do this -- the tremendous gift it is to be able to create visual art like this. I can cut, paste and reassemble things. I can sing, act, write, perform, take photos, and see things a certain way, but I wasn't lucky enough to be born with this one gift, and I wish I was. Not that I'm not grateful for the gifts I have, I just really admire people who can just draw or paint whatever they envision. I think it would be akin to flying; I have the vision, I just don't have the ability to carry it out and it frustrates me.
I bought a lot of plants this afternoon, filled my car, and yet when I got home and placed them in the garden they just kind of disappeared into the landscape. So now I have to get a few more, bleh, the expense of keeping this house and garden up is overwhelming sometimes, especially when you're dependent on a frightened, elderly, little girl of a Mom for that upkeep.
I had fun picking out the fabrics for my bedspread, the little antique bench I have at the foot of my bed, the curtains in my bedroom, the cushions for the living room sofas, and looking for fabrics and trims for the kitchen. Fabric stores can be so inspiring, the colors and the textures. I had fun, yep.
Then I made the mistake of calling my Mother to share some of my excitement about all of this and caught her in one of her weird, bad moods. She got caught up in her usual cycle of relentless gloom and doom negativity and went off on me. She's been doing this for years. I think she needs to see a psychiatrist and get some medication. Her friends think she needs medication and has some kind of psychiatric problem. Her own doctor told her, right in front of me, "Look, I'm just telling you, it's my medical opinion that you should see a psychiatrist and get medication for what looks like an anxiety disorder and depression. I am strongly suggesting this Mrs. Hyland and I hope you will take my advice." She considered it for a hiccup, then got upset for a beat or two, and then blew off his advice saying, "He's crazy. I don't need to see a psychiatrist. I'm not crazy."
The other night I arranged a little dinner for her at her house with her friend because they wanted to see my bootleg copy of Fahrenheit 9/11 and the two HGTV episodes we were on. My Mom was such a wreck, so relentlessly negative, that her friend had to beat it out of there early. It certainly wasn't what could have been called a fun evening for her friend -- having to have drinks, dinner, and watch videos and a movie with someone who won't stop this running commentary about how rotten everything is.
She doesn't complain in front of her friends about anything global or even about her own health or feelings, she mostly just picks on Rosa and me. One thing will lead to the other and then she just can't stop being negative. She goes off on these really downbeat tangents about everything that could possibly go wrong, and then she can't stop. Rosa's kids were probably going to die of heat stroke in a desert trailer somewhere and her daughters would be raped and isn't it a pity that my house used to look so pretty and is now such a wreck.
We're watching videos that we shot just a few months ago about how charming my house is, and she won't stop the commentary about how awful it is, in front of her friend that she wants to impress. What is the point of showing the video to her friend if all she's going to do is run me down? There was even one shot of my garden that she refused to believe was my garden, and she made me rewind it several times because she wanted to prove to me that the pretty garden she liked couldn't possibly be mine. She just couldn't control her anxiety and was making herself sick with worry. You can tell what she's thinking because she has completely lost the ability to censor any of her thoughts, this is gross but the best analogy I can come up with is that she has some kind of diarrhea of the mind.
She's been doing this for years. When I was pregnant I was going to die giving birth and leave her to raise my son. Then I was going to die from being fat. Then when I had my operation I was going to die before, during or after it. When she found out Beau had ADD she went off on tangents about how sad it is that he's not going to be a successful man, how "He'll never amount to anything", and now the latest, well, by latest I mean the one she's been going off on for the last couple of years, is that I'm going to run out of money, have to rent my house, and live "in a tent in the woods somewhere". It is really, really hard to remain strong, positive and intact in the face of your own Mother's relentless criticism of you. It helps somewhat to recognize that she just isn't well, but I didn't know this when I was growing up and there has been a lot of damage that I will have to root out and repair. It's hard to know how much of my own depression and anxiety is hers, and how much is my own, or if there is even a demarcation. Help.
Tonight I had dinner with Atra and then came home and practiced guitar. I can play Let It Be now. I can't believe it, I'm so excited, I can play a song and sing along with it, this is heaven. Afterwards I watched Dennis Leary's new series about New York Fire people on FX. It was good. I love dynamic, well acted, well written, uncensored cable TV programs like this, especially because it deals with 9/11 and the impact it had on New York firefighters and their families. It was very moving. Now I am finally going to get some sleep. I didn't get to catch up with postings and journals but I cleared enough stuff out of the way that I'll be able to do this soon.
Big weary late night hugs,