It’s Alright To Cry

I’ve hoped since starting this blog, that through its weekly musings I can be present, as well as come to a place where I see the completion of my 18-year plan as a wonderful beginning, rather than a devastating end.

This month has been a challenge, both for being present, as well as staying on my “wonderful beginning” team.

I think this month’s been hard, because my final biennial drawing exhibit opened, then closed (also, I surrounded myself in the gallery with personal nostalgia).

I didn’t realize how much the “devastating-end” team has been part of my inner-self this month, until my Pecha Kucha talk Thursday night in Cape Porpoise, Maine.

Cape Porpoise post office

Excerpted from my last 2 slides: “I’m 8 months into the 22-month process of my 9th and final solo biennial, MEMORY. My long intention has been to mount this last biennial in the town that hosted the first, Lewiston. MEMORY will be 6 weeks long, just like my 1st biennial. I want to give past participants more time to participate. And people that have never been, more time for this last chance. Lastly, I need this 6 weeks, so I have more time with this final biennial myself.”

I’ve given, I guess, ~20 of these 6-minute-40-second Pecha Kucha talks. And, I gave this same talk ~6 weeks ago at the Biddeford Pecha Kucha.

But, as I read “so I have more time with this final biennial myself” on the stage in Cape Porpoise, in front of a large, so-dark-I-can’t-see-people’s-faces, I-know-2-people-here crowd, I started to cry.

I couldn’t get out what I wanted to say about signing up “to receive the where for my last biennial” nor to invite volunteers. 

And as I cried during the last ~5 seconds of my last 20-second slide, the large, so-dark-I-can’t-see-people’s-faces, I-know-2-people-here crowd, sighed a collective, supportive “awwwwwwww!”

The previous speaker, someone I also didn’t know, who had just given one of the best PKs I’d ever heard about aging and sex (I’d just given her a standing O), stepped up onto the stage as I tried to gather myself and my papers, and took me into her arms. 

Where I sobbed. A shoulders-heaving kind of sob. This larger cry probably lasted only another 5 seconds, but it put me squarely back on the “wonderful beginning” team.  

Crying does get the sad out of you.

Atlantic Hall in Cape Porpoise


    1. Thank you so much Carol. I wasn’t expecting the cry to happen at all. And when it happened, I had to just let it keep coming…

  1. Amy,
    Thank you for sending this. I was the one who did the sex and aging PK, great fun! Thank you for the enthusiastic compliment. As Emcee for the event, I was right at the foot of the stage. I was so glad you let me hug you! It was a gift for me as well….

    Will certainly be at your closing (of this adventure) installation…and will be eager to see your contributions and accomplishments from here… Congratulations on a well done PK and for touching so many lives with your creative and amazing work!

  2. Crying causes the brain to spurt out a big dose of mood-elevating endorphins. What perfect timing!
    All my best with your work. Love,Kit

  3. I heard your talk at PK. It was the most moving, inspiring message you could have ever delivered. I also have a studio practice and am in awe of your determination and passion. Your tears are will carry you well. I send you a heartfelt hug.

  4. Yes, Amy, crying does help get the sad out of you….and it always will. It’s ALWAYS all right to cry. I’m glad the woman was there as an angel to hold you as you let the crying out. It’s always helpful to cry while being hugged. That crying has been inside of you for a long time and wanted you to let it go. Good job, Amy. Blessings. ~Linda

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