Spontaneous Combustion

I think I almost spontaneously combusted at least once. I really thought I was going to go up in flames from the inside out. I was thinking about it today when I was outside with my face in the sun, feeling that overwhelming, restless excitement boiling to the surface.

Some people are skeptical about spontaneous human combustion. I've never seen anyone actually spark or smoke but the flashes of blue light seem familiar.

As I am writing this, my bird, Fernando, is cuddled up under my chin making little talking noises. He mimics us having conversations. It's pretty funny but I'm wondering, do birds or other animals ever just burn up? What a glorious way to go out.

Artwork by Littlest Kitten

I took my crush to one of my favorite places this morning. It was hot and bright and smelled of flood and fire. It's almost unrecognizable now that they've taken the steel plant* down. In fact, the whole area is practically unrecognizable. Where there recently were fertile fields are now new roads, ready for new houses. I passed by all of the road closed signs and do not enters. I'm glad I dared because I found something rare, something untouched. The trail was laid last night. I didn't hesitate, I wanted to ride it, to make it mine. It was so smooth, so perfectly unblemished. I was filled with a bliss that I blush just writing about. I could feel my heart in my chest and tasted the salt on my mouth. I didn't do it again because it wouldn't be the same. Consequences? Yes, there were. To get back home I had to ride up a hill that seemed impossible. I knew the only way to do it was to put my head down and start riding without looking up. At the top I usually want to throw up, it's that bad and then it's still a bit up hill the rest of the way home, but when I get home and gently park my crush in the garage, I'm glad. Actually I'm more than glad. That hill is like all things that are hard to do, it made me stronger.

*At the BYU Museum of Art I saw a fantastic show this last week. It's called, Dismantling Geneva Steel. Christ Dunker photographed the liquidation and demolition of a Utah Valley landmark. This show reminded me of the power of art. Leaving the show I felt filled up, I learned about something and connected to it and I felt it. Growing up here, I was happy to hear that the plant was going to be dismantled because our air would be cleaner and I was sad for all of the people who worked there. Dunker's photograph's didn't make an impression on me because of the beautifully composed design elements...it was something else. They were sad. They were an ending. I felt that loss. Comments were posted throughout the exhibit by former employees, one read, "I never see a steel plant that my heart doesn't pound a little faster. A lot of people see smoke and pollutions....I don't. To me they're beautiful places.

Incendio

As soon as I put my little girls on the bus each morning I go straight into the studio and get to work. Ideas are like a fire inside of me, keeping me warm... but if it gets too hot, it burns. Painting releases that fire. February 26, 2007

Today is the one year anniversary of this blog. (Thank you Nicholas for reminding me!)

My original intention for this blog was simply to document my thoughts regarding my artwork and the artwork itself. I have found value in recording those thoughts before my perceptions change. I have also found value in writing my thoughts regarding life in general before those thoughts are forgotten. Writing, like painting is a good tool for assessing and understanding. Why I feel the need to make my thoughts public instead of just writing it down in a journal is a bit more perplexing. I like to share?!

A lot has changed in my life in the last year...a lot. I've made a big leap in my personal evolution. I think I've had more epiphanies this year than all my other years put together...like a bucket full. The one thing that hasn't changed is my churning and burning. My ideas still burn like fire inside of me, keeping me warm, and painting is how I release that fire.