Monday, May 9, 2011

And So I Jet...

Jet quietly waiting

Over the weekend my inbox exploded with letters and questions after I had posted a photo of my new home in another part of the internet universe. There were so many questions that followed that I got to thinking that it's probably time....

I started thinking about writing this entry months ago in an attempt to explain to family and friends, who didn't know that my marriage had ended, why my blog would begin to contain talk and images of a new house and studio. My goal was to let people know that this change, which brought the studio to a complete halt for months oh so long ago, eventually brought me to a truly happier place. I wanted them to know that I was ok moving on and that they should rejoice with me. That this decision made me and my x much happier people.

During this time of transition I learned that I loved running and ran around the bay every other night. At one point it dawned on me that the sights, sounds and familiarity of the bay and of Brooklyn would one day be a distant memory. I loved the bay because it was a slight taste of nature for me in a city that never ever did fit me or feel like home.

My favorite Thai restaurant and their tank filled with beautiful fish, the fusion restaurant's pretty neon sign and the fishermen hoping for that catch along the footbridge, were visual treats on each run. On the way back a little boat named "Jet" was always my favorite to stop at and take a breather. There was just something so powerful and free in that little fishing boat sitting there in the bay dwarfed by the yachts quietly waiting for 6:30 AM to arrive. Something so ragged and tough that I had decided early on that that boat would, without a doubt, be my visual for this entry. I felt an odd connection to it. Even its name painted on with yellow deck paint appealed. Jet would serve as a melancholy reminder of my time in Brooklyn and of the last runs.

I look back and can think of all that transpired, some of which happened while I completely stopped working in my studio and when people hounded me about why I had stopped offering ceramic pieces I just didn't have the strength to tell them. But at this time I feel like mentioning a few instances that stick out strongly in my mind because they are important to me for they helped mold the new me that stands at this moment in time telling you that yes, as you have suspected, my life has changed greatly but change isn't necessarily a bad thing. At this very moment there is a creative tornado about to touch down as I prepare to jet. Something that wouldn't be unless this change had taken place.

If I went to dinner with you and couldn't hold my tears back know that just coming to dinner with me helped ease my loneliness. I'm sorry if my emotions made you uncomfortable. It wasn't my intention. Know that as I jet off I am thankful for your presence and for the strength you were able to help me find again.

If I visited your house on the many holidays that passed during this process and seemed distant and my gaze far away forgive me for I was caught between the past and the future and that is overwhelming no matter how you look at it. Know that I treasured our time together and that your rich traditions will help mold traditions in my new home.

If you went out of your way to talk to me because you sensed something wasn't quite right, thank you for your concern, kindness and motherly love when my own was so distant from within my arm's reach. Thank you for also sharing your personal story. Know it inspired.

If we worked together and I seemed aloof on the job site know that the work you gave me helped meditate me into new realizations. Thank you for hiring me and for being stern on the days I needed a good slap. I can't imagine this transformation taking place without you and your constant interjection of wisdom, wit, loving support and of course work for my hands so they wouldn't stay idle.

If we had coffee together and I talked your ear off for over two hours know that those hours were some of the most special I've had and I thank you for showing up and listening. I'm eternally grateful for having had the opportunity. You helped me to dream hope.

So now I fly away to a new state and begin again. New adventures in a new home and a new studio with new people. I walk away with a sense of renewal and believe it or not a better friendship with my x. My son benefits from this greatly.

I go back to my little home town in Pennsylvania where things are a bit slower and more simple. Where my new neighbors have already begun to question how the hell I can say I grew up there with the Brooklyn accent I now apparently sport. Frankly, I don't know what the hell they're talking about. They're the ones with the accent! ( lol ) Home to where my dreams all began. Home to where my mom and dad live. Home to where I hope to build something wonderful for me and my son. Home to where a new creative explosion is just bursting to take place. And home maybe one day, if I could ever be so lucky, to a new someone who will love me just the way I am and I him. I can only dream and hope; and I do....

And so, I jet....

Charcoal on paper

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