Art is a car, apparently

well, I said I'd report back, it was far more challenging and left me reeling. I was thankful to have friends there. A couple of contributing factors: the presence of a former therapist, the words of other artists which left me feeling disappointed and incensed at their shallowness (my judgment) and resistance to acknowledging their place of privilege their racism. It was such a white room, although a good turn  out. I liked what I said, mostly. I felt very raw throughout and I did speak far too long oh well.

Art is an amazing vehicle for expression what words cannot even begin to capture.

Acknowledging my Anxiety

I'm feeling so nervous, I can feel my belly churning. I am going to be in a panel art talk this afternoon. I enjoy public speaking I miss it in part as it is purely performance for me, perhaps thinking of it in this way removes me to a safe distance, I think so, reduces my anxiety, as does the writing I do now. When I have not acknowledged my anxiety in a concrete way it has more power over my choices, I am more apt to say things from a place ruled by my insecurities rather than from a deeper, calmer place, where I am better able to listen, to pace my words and actions. I am excited about this opportunity to speak about my art; to speak to its strengths and limitations. I hope to be courageous in my words and actions, to speak of what I know which is only me and no one else. Everything is subjective, and my art is me on display, which is an act of courage too.
I want to assert myself, not interrupt others. I hope I speak words that are meaningful. I hope I challenge what is suitable to challenge, with grace and respect. This feels like an important opportunity for me. I'll report back.