The irony. The concrete evidence of sensory response to environment and spatial situation. Here. Now. It was a crazy move. But I needed it. Stuck in the previous circumstance, going insane with white hissing ear splitting fear each time the Merry Unhappy Door Slammer played Wagner with her door, too exhausted to work at my art studio (the entire process of the journey there and back were so fraught), I was severely limited in my capacity to work. And uninspired. Moving back to our old and familiar neighbourhood in the middle of preparations for the exhibition was not a logical thing to do, but it was a desperate need. It cost me precious time and energy, my body is breaking down from being pushed to beyond its sensible limits. The flip side? Peace. Calm. And inspiration. My mind is now awash with exciting ideas. But there is no more time to execute them all. A pity. Such textural richness has suddenly begun to take root and sprout generous branches. I cannot possibly translate and realise the many reverberations echoing in my mind, not within such a short time frame anyway.
The exhibition opens next Monday 10 November. Setting up this weekend. I just have to keep going and do what I can. A feeling of surreal suspension.
Executive dysfunction. Brain bog. Sensory spin. Racing pulse. Anxiety overdrive. Floating on a cloud of vertiginous foam. Craving sugar and potato crisps. Lunching on frankfurters in cheap buns. Time has run out. Just keep going. No time to think anymore. Go, go, go, Bunny, Tally Ho!
P.S. My angel keeps me company, my calming balm and muse. We cuddle in bed and all feels well again. Tomorrow is another day.