Updated: Feb 12
So, I was challenged a bit more this week than I prepared to handle. Normally, that's not something that I have to think to much about. At 45, I've gotten rather good at dodging what needs to be dodged, and catching what ought to be caught. This week took something I had placed in a "Do Not Disturb Yet" pile, and dumped it square on my lap. It began with reading a couple chapters out of a book by Lynn Hunt discussing the evolution of Human Rights as we understand it today.
It was an excellent and fascinating read, if only a couple chapters out of it, but it pulled, ever so noticeably at that pile, allowing some memories from 24 years ago to drip into the present. It wasn't a specific memory, but a collection that was both great and horrible. They were memories I've been trying to bring to light for nearly a decade and still I struggle to find their path into this world. To those of us there, it was already brought into the world, but it's first dance in the light was in the shade of darkness provided by hate and fear so ever present in the world.
And it starts with this:
Missing Nightmare was an India Ink and Scratch-board piece I had done in my first art class in the summer of 2013. Who's mouth is that? Where did that tooth go? How did the missing tooth go missing? I was moved by the smile that belied a past, and maybe a specific one. I'll let you answer those questions, because my knowledge of what it means to me, is not what it may mean to you, and you matter.
Those two words were the key to the leaking memories that allowed a floodgate to have been opened. The strength to turn the key came from an unlikely source, and a quote that filled me with regret, pain, and anger:
"John Adams captured the dominant view : '[s]uch is the Frailty of the human Heart, that very few Men, who have no Property, have any judgement of their own.'"
This was a quote of one of our esteemed Presidents in regards to who should be given the privilege to possess Rights. Tears flooded my eyes and I had to stop reading. It was as though the weight of that history, our history, crushed my soul and cracked it. Once cracked, that energy, that regret, pain, and anger turned the key to the door. My personal history demanded light, warmth, and compassion. So I looked for that story that started and stopped several times, looked at it with what strength I had, reassuring it that its story will be told.
So, there's that.
On a brighter note, I had the pleasure of interviewing Vladimir and Daniela Ovtcharov, local artists who emigrated to the US from Bulgaria in 1996 with their children. They lived within a number of places within the US, and settled right here, in Albuquerque, NM, and loved it ever since. Look forward to that in the coming week or two. I have about 30 minutes of footage I need to pair down to 10, but it should be a great watch. As always, hit me up on Twitter of Instagram for a chat or to look at my art and love of video games, and until Saturday, have a great night, or day!