Afraid of Art
I think my family is terrified of art. Or at least whatever art I can make. But I want them to see, I want them to see what it is. It's not a terrifying thing, my art, though all may not see its beauty. It's not about my youngest brother's alcoholism, it's not about my oldest brother's homosexuality, or rarely even my own bisexuality. It's not even about my abortion or my fractured skull at 18 months old when my mom says I hit my head on the doorknob...but what 18 month old is tall enough to even reach a doorknob? So who fractured my skull Ma? Who fractured my skull?!!
I want them to see what my art is. What people take home with them of me. It's pieces of coloured glass. It's the 30 stained glass Snowflakes and Candleboxes I sold at Christmas this year. It's the bellydance piece I did in Marcello's play. It's this little purple and green chapbook I wrote with my boyfriend. It's polyesther old man pants and a couple of tattoos.
But it's nothing to be afraid of.