A kind of disquiet

Lately, I have been going through a period of being kinda lost. Like, what is the point of it all – not in a nihilistic way, not even in a depressed kinda way, but in a somewhat enquiring way.
Before I write further, it would also be important to say at this point that I am currently full in the throes of a very intense 6-year relationship with perimenopause, which shows no signs of moving on to the next phase of menopause. Add to that empty nest with my kids now grown up, working and off to college… oh, and I just turned 50 this year. Maybe it is ‘the time in my life’ or is it something more?
I am not sure, but I thought I would document it here on the blog. Over the years, my many mind-meandering journeys have resulted in some very wonderful anecdotal art in my life. I am waiting to see what I turn this into.
The last exhibition was about reclaiming life in a way and coming to terms with renewal. But as I delved deeper into my feelings, I found the journey is not yet complete. Maybe it never will be, or at least not till I die, but I have been sorta stuck on the top of a very steep speed bump. It is time to gingerly climb down and take stock of which direction I should turn.
Portraiture still excites me, faces call to me, personal narratives and rituals make me stop and ponder their meaning.
I have more thoughts and ideas than time. I have collections of work already neatly thought and slotted into my mind’s studio shelving. Again, it is time to dust off and get to work. And as usual, I start small, thinking through ideas.
One of which is that I don’t dress the same way, I don’t think the same way, or even eat the same thing all the time – why am I “Closetting” myself into just one way of doing my work?
But there is a kind of disquiet that I am unable to shake off…

I wrote this note on October 6th, not knowing what was to unfold less than ten days later. It was sitting in my notes folder like so many other ideas and musings.

I took this picture, along with others, a couple of years ago as possible references for a self-portrait series. This one seemed to fit the bill for this post – raw, bare, washed down somehow personal.