I'm frustrated that the little critters run quickly, so quickly in fact that they slip from my mind as if they didn't even exist. And "quiet as its kept" their inability to come to fruition is its downfall or at least its mine that is. And as trees decide to retreat, the dirt road no longer speaking, and the sunset no longer as bright, it's become awfully quiet. I've become awfully quiet. Removing situations aside, displacing oneself doesn't quite work if the displacing no longer feels like its happening. When surroundings become familiar and change doesn't seem to want to come about. When what your looking has been there all along, you just had to find it. When things seem so jumbled that fixing it feels hopelessness. Hopelessness is an awful feeling but when it blankets you it does. Passion is as passion does. I know what I'm capable of. Creativity has been lost for me. Lost between the lines of keyboard and screens. My creativity has been lost and I've been trying to find it ever since.
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Art - based reproductive health workshops for trafficking returnees from rural areas of Vietnam
This mouthful is what I've been working on for the last 1.5 years while I am here in Vietnam. I have a fellowship project that I have to vaguely put it "dedicate to the community at need. My friend Patricia has been my main partner in crime in pulling this together and inspiring me. I'm glad that she decided to land herself in Vietnam too.
My creative process has always been a haphazard one. And when I try to control it. When I try to face it. It's scary. Something so foreign that I shoved aside for other pursuits that I've lost the ability to be free with it. As free as I was once with scissors and paper. I think too much.
I need to not think so much.
Clyfford Still one of my favorites.
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