[et_pb_section bb_built=”1″ fullwidth=”on” specialty=”off”][et_pb_fullwidth_post_title title=”on” meta=”on” author=”on” date=”on” categories=”on” comments=”on” featured_image=”on” featured_placement=”background” parallax_effect=”on” parallax_method=”on” text_orientation=”left” text_color=”dark” text_background=”on” text_bg_color=”rgba(255,255,255,0.9)” use_border_color=”off” border_color=”#ffffff” border_style=”solid” parallax=”on” /][/et_pb_section][et_pb_section bb_built=”1″ admin_label=”section”][et_pb_row admin_label=”row” background_position=”top_left” background_repeat=”repeat” background_size=”initial”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″][et_pb_divider color=”#ffffff” show_divider=”off” height=”15″ divider_style=”solid” divider_position=”top” hide_on_mobile=”on” _builder_version=”3.0.94″ /][/et_pb_column][/et_pb_row][et_pb_row][et_pb_column type=”1_2″][et_pb_image _builder_version=”3.0.94″ src=”https://www.abigailmarkov.com/wp-content/uploads/26233715_10155185932241220_4552126458433853217_o.jpg” show_in_lightbox=”on” url_new_window=”off” use_overlay=”off” always_center_on_mobile=”on” force_fullwidth=”off” show_bottom_space=”on” /][et_pb_text _builder_version=”3.0.94″ background_layout=”light”]
Detail of Experiment No 2; beeswax, damar resin, pigment, epoxy resin on panel.
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There’s a new rhythm to my days;
A tempo filled with
whole notes and
unexpected rests
and I’ve not yet
quite adjusted to the new
pace of time;
It’s a bit like
reaching the end of the stairs
one stair too soon.
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//Oh hell,
//I can’t even explain
//not being able to explain the feeling
//right.
It’s this
awakening
each and every time
I paint,
where the edges of me
become solid and
pull back together
like some mist that
reforms to become me;
edges that
I banished and put to sleep
because they are
too sharp with
rage and hurt and
aching longing
for a beauty that
is constantly misunderstood,
and I can’t live
function the way
life and society
and my responsibilities
demand that I do,
when I am
overwhelmed
just in Being
by the heartrending
piercing sharp cutting
breathtaking
excruciating beauty
of existence
standing in stark contrast
to the primal animalistic
outraged and jealous
blind and frustrating experience
that is being human
and it’s a bit
like grabbing the hot and cold pipes
at the same time
in the same hand
and trying to
hold on.
It is too many feels
all at the same time
and so I
turn them both down.
It’s a numbing drowning
drugged stumbling though the day
with moments of it breaking through.
And when I paint
it all wakes up
and it hurts.
It hurts more
because I can’t explain it
to anyone.
I can paint it,
and try
to show it,
but I’ve learned
over and over
either you know it
or you don’t.
And it makes me want to weep
with the unbearable
loneliness
of wishing I could show you
and knowing
I can’t.
And so I put
that side of me
that Knows
to sleep
and I plod along
trying to make ends meet
and setting aside
the commercially nonviable
art I make
as a beacon to find anyone else
who might understand
and the numb empty space left
aches,
though gradually less
the longer I keep it
diffuse and formless,
asleep.
Hell,
even just writing this
will get me made fun of
or laughed at
or someone will
crack some joke
and I remind myself
that it’s okay,
they don’t get it, and
they are not worth the time.
And the part of me
that stays
repeats that I must be
well off the deep end,
so I’d be best off
if I shut up
and went back
to just struggling to survive,
and for another month or so
I go back to trying to forget
everything I know
about who I am
and the world around me
numb with blinders on,
because I can’t
hold both hot and cold pipes
in one hand
for very long
just yet.
—
I don’t know a dedicated artst
that didn’t at some point
wonder
what the hell they had to do
to get people to understand their work.
It’s not that important, really,
but it crosses your mind,
and feeling
constantly
like you’re speaking
in a languge
no one else understands
that you can’t even begin to teach
is intensely frustrating.
I could,
before the advice comes rolling in,
speak in a language
everyone else might understand,
but your language
does not have words
for what I want to say.
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