"You know, art is why I get up in the morning,
but my definition ends there,
you know, it doesn't seem fair,
that I'm living for something I can't even define,
there you are right there, in the mean time.
You know, well, I don't want to play for you any more,
show me what you can do,
tell me what you're here for,
I want my old friends,
I want my old mind,
I want my old face,
fuck this time and place..." --Ani DiFranco
I awake to images of Gregory Colbert's on my desktop. His body of work is profound. It affects me, deeply - like a good story that I'd prefer to read so that I may craft its images in my head while feeling the textures of life as they lay all around me. Or, like a rocking tune that stays with me long after the speakers have turned off - now, forever embedded in the cellular memory of my body. An art that is so visceral, it pierces our perceived linear fabric of space and time. And, writing that reminds me that I danced with one of my local Goddard girls, Ale, at DanceJam! last night. It was only a few short summers ago when we waxed poetically upon the answers to the question of 'What is art?' while spending ten, sweet days nestled up in the Pacific Northwest. My, what a journey life has been since I completed my MFA degree in 2009. Last night, Y. said to me, "I am sure you get tired of hearing that you look like Frida, huh?" How could I ever tire of receiving such a compliment, even if it is superficial? "It's the eyebrows," I respond, smiling and pointing to the evidence of the Moors invasion of Ireland centuries ago.
And, I remember another him once saying, "You looked immaculate tonight - save for your eyebrows," after an evening spent in-joying theatre in La Jolla on a mid-summer night. Crest-fallen, I removed my body's natural response after that. It was merely the high maintenance of such a task that kept me from repeating it - "Fuck what he thinks!" Ironically, he now likes to purport that meeting his "Soul mate" will bee an easy task - the thing about our Souls is that they are more than skin-deep, Dear One.
My bird-like nature is another reason why I get up in the morning. Yesterday, I ambled out to let Jedi and Arwyn out of their coop, as well as to clean it and feed our beloved hens who have been laying daily eggs since the return of the warm weather. Jedi wandered up to me, asking to be held so I scooped up her black and white feathered body and pet her gently. Afterward, I lamented to L. how much I miss Buckbeat - "She was such a special soul," I said. This is why Colbert's work speaks - he caught, in real-time, the rich relationships that can and do dance between us humans and our animal counterparts. And, I never want to envision or experience an Earth devoid of either.
