Tuesday, September 2, 2008

pushmi-pullyu

Today I feel like that two-headed llama from Doctor Doolittle. And, no, not the frightening Eddie Murphy version; the good, ol' fashioned Rex Harrison version with all the magical British accents and cute little dance numbers. I'm pretty proud that the last Eddie Murphy movie I saw was... wait... lemme go IMDB it...

Coming to America. Unless you count Shrek, which I don't, because I spend half the movie thinking it's Chris Tucker and waiting for him to do a Michael Jackson impression or banter with a rooster voiced by Jackie Chan.

Anyway, Doctor Doolittle discovers this fabulous animal called a pushmi-pullyu, which can never get anywhere, because instead of a head and a butt, it has two heads, and they each want to go in their own direction. See how that would be like me? Craig might argue it's more likely I have two butts, because i've been relatively pig-headed lately, but the animal idioms are really overwhelming me right now, so let's just stick with llama. Two heads. Okay.

On one hand, i'm on the HOA, I help lead a babywearing group, I pay all the household bills, I am a responsible member of society. On the other hand, I feel that i'm dangerously repressing my creative and artistic side because sleep is eclipsing art these days, and it's making me a little nutty. Every spare moment goes to sleep or rest, and although my dreams are extraordinarily bizarre (60 pound sticks of butter and psychically possessing Bryce Dallas Howard at the Super 8 motel, anyone?), they're just not the outlet I need. I've got a great idea for a new body of work for my show in January, but I don't have the time to paint. Hopefully, when Cleo starts preschool next week, i'll be able to use those holy 6 hours a week to paint, but i'm probably going to feel guilty for not cleaning or cooking or doing all the other stuff i'm supposed to do.

My point is this: when i'm in the working world, being an artist who can also operate on the analytical side is a boon. As a mother, i'm sure it'll benefit me one day. But right now, pregnant with a toddler, I feel like the two sides of my noodle aren't talking very much, and I worry what they're saying behind each other's backs.

I want to put on some Cypress Hill Skull & Bones and throw red paint all over some 6-foot-tall canvases and roll around on them in a gorilla mask, but I also would really enjoy buying some shelves at Ikea for the baby's room and folding a bunch of teeny little shirts. I would like to stand on a bench in Athens and read Tom Robbins' "Still Life with Woodpecker" to passerby with a stick of dynamite painted on my belly, but i'd also like to do a tidy little Excel spreadsheet to see why my budget is getting out of hand.

See how that could be confusing for a girl?

I guess i'm just saying that the art has to come out. It needs to percolate, maybe even fester a little. But it's going to find a way out, sooner or later.

1 comment:

delilah said...

As of today, October something-th, this post is totally redeemed. Preschool did help. Art is back. Sleep is feasible. My noodle is again talking to itself, and it mainly talks about eating Cap'n Crunch and reading Charlaine Harris novels in bed.