"collaborate with an executioner" -- that is life and art in 4 words, yes? To get the creation we desire, or to get the beautiful corpse. I am OK with skritchy lines, so long as what results is not indeterminate, half-measure, or lacks deliberateness. I have posted lately things of pathos. THIS picture is a blazing comet to me, the great arc composed of small arcs, but a comet nonetheless. "Better" is no longer a measurement to me, with art. Now "better" is getting the vision in here out there, by any means necessary. Vision, my brain sustaining and nurturing it, then whatever mess the world makes of it as it appears. The process has replaced the product. Viva art! Viva the making of it, the struggle! Good results are for measurers. I no longer measure. I make. Sister Elizabeth, we blaze here together, our ice becomes flame as we veer to art's heat, on our eccentric and elliptical orbits. I see you in the dark, I read your fiery tale.

Greg, you inspire and delight. I know this is going to be ok for both of us. It simply must. And who knows by what measure we will be judged. You may surprise yourself. I have.

I painted this peacock *after* I gave up hope a few years ago. I got it back and moved on.

I want to see this piece, and so much of your and Greg's writing, published as far as the eye can see. You both understand art in ways most cannot even begin to articulate.

r.

He and I combined have been working for roughly 90 years by my best guess, so we better know what we are doing by now! Too bad both of us are fucked, physically....

Elizabeth, thanks for writing about change, adaptation, measuring, and forward motion from your interesting position. Greg, and Elizabeth both, wishing you continued strength and flexibility.

I felt energy returning to my batteries while reading this, energy from re-interpreting what I was feeling as unseen demons pushing me down, holding me down. Reading this letter and the subsequent comment-thread discussion helped me to grin at the demons and relax. Hey, I can handle down if I must. I can still think and type - or move my lips if need be. Fuck you, demons! Thanks and virtual hugs to you two!

Brave post, thank you, Elizabeth. My obstacles are more mental than physical, but I can relate.

Great Post. Jean "Django" Reinhardt, one of the greatest jazz guitarists in the world, lost two fingers on his chord hand in a fire. He learned to play with two and some say played better. If you're an artist, I guess you adjust, because the art in still in the brain waiting to spring out.

i love the message in this post. I think the other aspect of living with a struggle day to day is how it opens us to opportunities. there is great power in the anger we feel when our bodies betray us and great joy in the moments we feel acceptance and many other great emotions along the path of less than perfection. the opportunity is for putting all those emotions into our work... the good, the bad & the ugly. to live & express a larger life.

thanks for this

This is a beautiful epistle, Elizabeth, a testimony to your strength.
It may well be our pain brings out the very best in our every creative effort. It's that human element, that touchingly cruel component known as misery which is life's challenge issued to us whether we like it or not.
One of my very best pieces came about right after I discovered my past was as unhealthy as it had been. While it was accepted in a special show at the time, I refused to put a price on it, for fear it might sell. It is still in my collection, as a reminder that, just when I thought everything was over (I mean, permanently over), I found my phoenix heart.
You and Greg both have creative genius enough to draw and paint rings around most people. Your creativity will not end. Of that we can all be certain.
R

This is a beautiful piece followed by an equally beautiful comment by Greg. You've started a conversation that makes us all think of our own capabilities, strengths, weaknesses, and ability to evolve. And to be thankful for the art of creating.

Inspiration really comes from strange places. I am glad this resonates. I think Greg has been feeling very isolated and fears the PD will further isolate him, even from his art. I can't be sure, but that is what I was getting from our ongoing conversation. I wanted him to remember that life is just a constant series of changes. I need to remember that, too.

My unwillingness to share my diabetic issues leaves me isolated. Opening up about it makes me feel vulnerable. Feeling vulnerable feels like I have lost my power center. Losing my power center makes me uncertain. Uncertainty feels weird to me. And so I am left feeling weird, powerless, vulnerable, and isolated. Not a good state for painting pretty things people will want to live with.

On the other hand.

I have not had an insulin injection in 6 days. Last month I took roughly 120 shots and used 40 finger sticks. This is better. But the machine is my new constant companion. And I no longer feel autonomy within my own body. I fear becoming dependent on this machine. And yet if I ask myself how my old way was working for me....it was not.

Life is an endless miracle. Clutching on to any aspect of it is like grabbing at water. Better to relax and just feel it flowing over your hands. It is beautiful that way.