Even mid morning, it was too hot to walk for long. I could’ve kept going, but Finn seemed not into it, which is saying something.
AC cranking, I’ve got the finish line in sight for the reread of Section One of my manuscript. As usual, this puts other reading on hold. I finished Series One of Deb’s Prophets Tango and can’t wait to get to the middle volume. Because I’d read it all before, this read really allowed me to focus on just how good the writing is. The writing is really so good.
Responding to weekly visual prompts from the Paris Collage Collective has been productive in all the usual ways that prompts inspire. Here’s an image. Run with it. In writing sessions, it can be amazing to see what happens when you write for twenty minutes starting with the line, say, so much depended on or the ocean called her.
More specifically, the PCC challenge is freeing because I can run with pictures of black men and women in a way I might not were it a choice of mine. There’s a big footnote there that isn’t for today, but think: appropriation.
Since race and racism are central preoccupations of mine, I have OTHER images and ideas that want inclusion. Ideas flow. I don’t think I can adequately describe how liberating this has been.
First I double-exposed this week’s Paris Collage Collective’s visual prompt (above) with the famous Angel Oak in South Carolina.
I liked how the tree layer turned his body to lace in places and grounded him in place. However, it was dismaying to see how quickly the figure resembled a hunted Black man, particularly when red showed up.
Which is why I went and grabbed some images of Alvin Ailey dancers. I wanted the exercise to remain joyful — the trap of white entrancement with Black pain too easily fallen into. (I’ve posted about this before). Besides, I think by now we all know that Black joy is a form of rebellion. Maybe the best form.
These quickly became cluttered. And the prompt figure in many compositions continued to look like he was fleeing jeopardy. Is it just me?
I then overlaid the image with one of my script quilts. The texture imparted was interesting and I may go with it some more, but oh boy, there’s another pitfall — white people overwriting Black people’s experience with our dominant voices.
I may be overthinking things this morning, she said.
In other news, after working from home since March 13, 2020, Husband went to the office this morning. It’ll be two days a week.
There he was, holding his flashlight to illumine his sock drawer, quipping, “See? I remember how to do this!”
Moments later: “This blows.”
Being thirty years married, it wasn’t the constancy of his company that pleased me so much as how by subtracting a two hour commute, he got a lot more sleep. That’s important.
Also pandemic related: Finn has to lose weight! Tony, the biscuit-generous mailman, needs talking to and games of “Find It” out back need to go on pause (that’s where I throw treats all over the yard and tell Finn to “find it!”)
And speaking of walking the dog (I was, wasn’t I?), my hips barely hurt this morning. I’m encouraged. Maybe adding two more stretches to my nightly routine helped.
Giana Floyd, George Floyd’s daughter
From now on 4/20 will live on not just as a day to celebrate pot but as a day to remember that a murderous cop was held to account.
I cried when I heard that the jury found Chauvin guilty on all three counts. A choking ugly cry. Gasping.
While I know this is not the end of the war (Al Sharpton) and that the verdict was only possible because it was captured on video, seen the world over, followed by a year of protests and the collapse of the blue wall (Jason Johnson), I want to breathe the relief of a decision well made.
Yes. Yes we get how broken we are that the outcome was not certain here. But let me exhale with gratitude.
Thank you jurors! Thank you “bouquet of humanity” aka witnesses who took the stand! Thank you remarkable prosecution team! Thank you protestors! Thank you cops who took the stand and spoke the truth!
Tomorrow I will lament the fifteen year old girl who was shot yesterday. Tomorrow I will share my outrage at how swiftly Republicans are seeking to outlaw filming police and protests but today: relief.
I shared this 53 second video over on Instagram but I’ll share it here, too. Synchronicity turned the Vogue model’s outstretched arms into something reminiscent of a prone, injured body as the day went on. Unintended but fitting.
Last night:
Woke to snow this morning. It’s since turned to rain.
Watched a gripping movie.
Then, while making another set of collages for the Paris Collage Collective weekly challenge, a spooky combination [of an old fabric layout and an Assisi interior] popped up. Sometimes I forget to “lock” one of the pictures and the random generator button makes for welcome surprises.
A little spooky.
