There's a girl I used to know, a woman actually. We were best friends for over 16 years. I've had several dreams about her lately and have wanted to reach out to her, but I don't. I won't pick up the phone to call.
I walked away from her because of the domestic violence situation that was getting really, really bad. I felt like I couldn't watch it anymore. I felt like I was watching her get hurt repeatedly and that she wasn't going to change the situation. At the time I walked away I was very ill and not sure if my medical situation would resolve itself. I was exhausted, still am, but I was critical back then.
Domestic violence is so complicated. I don't have any judgement at all for her, how can I? I went back to my husband several times before finally leaving for good. Boy, he said some things that I think of now and go, I can't believe I let him get away with that crap. I can't believe I stayed that long. After being abused by him I did the typical thing and abused myself verbally for staying with him.
Domestic violence slowly breaks you down until there's nothing left but nerves, skin and bones. Some of those bones are old friendships that died when they could no longer watch and wait for the next blow.
Keep my head on track
Not be angry
I keep covering my face and rocking.
I keep looking at the frogs in their tank. I'm happy I added another, they're much more active with a third in there. He still doesn't have a name.
I painted some and worked with a new finish. I used old art work I'm not going to do anything with to try new finishes.
I stay up until the sun begins to come up. There's a certain feeling of having escaped the night, to have out run it or beat it at its own game.
Whether I'm awake or asleep, the night will try torture me. If there are shadows made by light, the shadows will try and break me with its games. If I sleep I am sure to relive moment exactly as they were, smell, sights, sounds, color, fear.
Sleep is still one of the most difficult things for me. I want to say my prayer and go to sleep. I want to want sleep medication. I want to trust the vulnerability of sleep and believe I'll be ok. I have enough teas. herbs and roots to top any pharmaceutical. sleep aid. Falling asleep isn't the problem, it's the night and sleep itself I fear.
So what's my plan to better my nights? Consistency and predictability. I don't mean structure in that I'll go to bed at a certain hour. I mean having night time actions begin to feel safe (predictable) so that I trust enough to sleep. Right now what I do is get nervous and anxious. This grows to the point of all out fear. I'd like to break the cycle of feeding into night time anxiety.
This painting started as pull art. I created a painting using the drip art technique then looked at it if for a few days. As I was walking by I saw an eye. I quickly drew it in, then the lips and the nose. Days later the painting developed into an ancient woman growing her roots, spreading out the lines of history in her hair.
Once I knew what I wanted to paint I began to think about how people talk about wanting a new start or reinventing themselves. It occurred to me that more than not, the choice to reinvent ourselves is thrust upon us. Time changes, other people change the course of our lives for good or bad. In these ways, we are given the opportunity to change ourselves for the better.
Art Title: The Growing Process
Art by: Faith M. Austin
Medium: Acrylic, ink on artist paper, size 8.5 x 5.5 , signed, sealed, unmounted.
The Growing Process is ready to ship today.
Monday afternoon I showed a friend this painting. He said,
"She looks sad". I replied, "You would be too if you had the weight of the world on your shoulders."
Yes, she does look sad, and yes great responsibilities are hers. There's a lot riding on her actions or inaction. However, she has not given up, nor has she slowed the growing process. ...continue reading "The Growing Process"
Art Title: Nala
Art by: Faith Magdalene Austin
Medium: Acrylic, ink, acrylic seal
11 x 14 Artist Board
I knew when I began this painting that I wanted a young girl to sit on the water's edge with koi coming to meet her. I wanted a lot of texture with small details. To increase texture I added sand to her mahogany - rust colored pants. Her blouse is layer after layer of white paint and butter cream acrylic paint. This affect came together nicely to form a tunic top. ...continue reading "Nala Original Art"
What will you see in this ethnic, surreal painting? Ah, gold poppies, red poppies, a fisherman in traditional clothing reaching to the sun, an Asian woman in a white dress with a small orange patch whose arms reach down yet they branch out as bare trees. Beside her is a face within a face. Flowers grow, swirls spring out, color abounds then rests. ...continue reading "Traveler"
A friend of mine, now gone, once said: "The most beautiful things come from the most foul manure." I hope he's right. I hope to one day grow past what is ugly into not just beauty but peace.
As stated in my bio, I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder as well as Multiple Personality Disorder. There are times when my mind races and is filled with flashbacks from times unsafe. I want to run from my own head. I panic. I call a friend and then I take to a few more coping skills such as painting. ...continue reading "Cut in Stone"
This painting is on of the very first collages I've created and thought good enough to post. The tall, elongated woman with her face divided by cream and blue stands with her eyes closed taking in everything. The secure and at peace woman stands with her feet in the stream and allows joy and wonderment into her life. There is no struggle, no working against the tide. She takes it all in and is entirely in the moment.
Her hair is adorned with flowers. Her dress is yellow at the top with two butterfly cut outs. The butterfly details also appear at the side of her skirt. The remaining cut outs are small flowers made from hand dyed coffee filter cut outs. Food coloring was used to stain the coffee filter cut outs. The painting has been sealed with a matte acrylic seal. ...continue reading "The Stream Carried Wonderment and Joy"