Beemouse Laboratories

Dear Internet Diary,

Not much has been happening lately. The leaves are falling all at once, now… I have been raking them into piles over the garden beds. I have been feeling sick from a fibromyalgia flare-up for the last 3 days. This makes me want to throw things.

I have been thinking about my non-art job (will post on that more later), and my future non-art job (more later), and my art-job, and how really good it is to have a warm little house, and books, and warm blankets. I get cold a lot, and I would be really pissed if I were homeless right now.

I never understood when I was younger how much work goes into building an art “practice”. When I was younger (and it still may be so), people joked that artists were lazy and that art classes were easy. I think I bought into that stereotype, to a certain extent, not really knowing many artists, until I took my first art class a few years ago. It kicked my ass. It was also terrifying, because I had never had to draw in front of other people before, and I cared what other people thought about my sketches.

I have been thinking a lot about different forms of art, and how they are more similar than I ever realized. The writers crafts their stories with such attention, each word chosen like a carefully programmed note in a piece of electronic music, placed like an exacting brush stroke on a canvas, sung like a note in an aria that must be pure, on-pitch, and must contain the right phrasing and pronunciation. How long does a graphic designer stare at their monitor, considering the curve of a letter, considering the white space between the text and an illustration?

Some art builds slowly, is revealed slowly, is understood slowly. Some art rushes out fast in a frenzy, and spools away into the universe or metaverse without ever having been understood or even seen.

And here is a photo I took in October, of some pigeons on power lines. I love the way the poles tilt inward, and the wires span the photo like a net, and the clouds look so gloomy.