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.
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.