what does everything mean?

I had a tutorial last week and since then I’ve tried to simmer down what it was that she said. I think that mainly she referred to the things that she saw fresh, she asked if I had any problems with the decorative, and sometimes I do, at least in my head. She did say that I shouldn't leave any space for doubt when talking about my work. Something along the lines of yeah, its decorative, so what?
On the other hand she asked what I wanted my paintings to do. What is it that I want them to do to the public that comes and sees them? I stopped right there, with many explanations but short of one word to define that. I guess I need to define that word, fast, but it’s hard for me to simmer it one to one word.
On the other hand, I have discussing with Shere the whole "Colombian Artist". Believe it or not, it is a very important thing to talk about, or at least, to define for myself. Is my being Colombian a part of my work? At least it is in the colours that I choose. To be truthful those are the only colours I feel happy with. Strong, bright, colours. I don’t want to paint in greys; my life is anything but grey.
I guess it’s important for every artist to define or at least be aware of how their national identity affects their work. What does it all mean?
On another note, I have been working on my monster. Mainly helping Burnie (hope thats how you write it) build it, I can't weld, and many other things, so hes helping me out, a lot. The first monster I created in 3d was made out of clay; it’s like a little pet/baby for me. Now I’m doing a very big one, my size, I can actually fit it in there. I think it’s an important step. Also something else to think about.

The path of the Bard

'The sea doesn't want to make waves.
The wind doesn't want to blow.
Everything wants balance, peace,
and seeking peace has no peace.
If you understand this, does it
change something? Can you be peaceful
even where there is no peace?'

from Summers and Springs, Jaan Kaplinski

As a writer, I have a very poor relationship to poetry. This year, I have discovered this as a short coming. Not because tutors insist, and even recommend that when you write prose, you should be reading poetry; but because I've started to develop my own relationship with this language, English, in a way that every writer should. In the back of my mind, I guess there was always the awareness of how important language is to writers, but it wasn't until I had to chose to do my writing in English (long story, not to go into it now) that I realized this was a long term relationship.

Another little spark in my path to find poetry, was actually having to write one for my Writing and Health class. What started as a sand-under-the-skin activity, turned out to be the smack on the head I needed to reach out to a very big source of material for my writing, and also the theme of the poem, Home. 

Going through the process of writing poetry felt uncomfortable, to say the least. And I'm keeping that part of my writing private. But now I can see that I'm thirsty for poetry, not from a emo perspective - far from it, as this was the original reason I didn't want to get into it in the first place - but to see and make myself get used to another kind of writing. And most importantly, because of rhythm. I was acutely away, have always been - mom says my music teacher in kinder garden said I had 'a musical ear' - of rhythm, specially in playwrighting. Now I want to imprint all my pieces with as much rhythm as I can manage.

When I read poetry now, out loud to myself cause in silence it just feels weird, I find I was missing it, if that makes any sense. I remember my brother reading, this would be in Spanish back then, and enunciating, almost swaying with the rhythm of the language; and I remember myself thinking how well he did it, but how this wasn't for me. Now, without his talents for public speaking, I find myself trying to reach out to myself by reading out loud and remembering how he did it. Anyone up for a reading poetry session in the park?

quote

From the book, Again the Metaphor Problem and Other Engaged Critical discources about Art. A conversation between John Baldessari, Liam Gillick and Lawrence Weiner, moderated by Beatrix Ruf.
pg. 12-13
Weiner:
I still believe that when you are dealing with a book, there is no essential difference between visual images and a visually drawn language image. They are the same, they both have meaning.
Baldessari:
I think we share that idea
Weiner:
There is no hierarchy
Baldessari:
I dont see any difference between the word and the image; one is exchangeable with the other.
Wiener:
They both carry history with them-sociable metaphorical meanings. All we were doing in Zouz was using different skills that we both accepted as completely equal. That made the book a possibility.

END OF QUOTE.

On tutorials and critiques.

Bubbles by Diana Afanador

I have grown accustomed to working on my own. I actually like the "silence" (I always have music on) of not talking. From time to time, it’s good to hear what other people are thinking about my work. Peers and friends are good, but I think tutorials give this certain moment, where people feel free to be critical without sounding competitive. I had some tutorials last week, and I found them very interesting, each person has a different perspective on the work and thus, you gain a different perspective on yours.
I sometimes loose sight of my work, so it’s important to hear what others have to say. The problem is learning to know what to hear and what to let go. What to build on? What am I interested on?
Because my work right now is more of a search, then I have to check myself constantly when it comes to decision making. Is this what I want? Why? Does the work need this? (Actually this is one of the comments that I liked the most on the last critique, strip your work down, and find out what it needs.) I don’t want to go baroque in any way.
I’m searching in many ways: materials, scale, colour, texture, from painting to sculpture and then back, nothing is complete at the moment, this is my research at the moment, though soon I will have to move onto my dissertation.
Today I have another tutorial. We will see how this one goes.

Honestly, I'm a writer.

Once, a dear friend told me that I was born a writer. I had come to Newcastle University to do the MA in Creative Writing, and since day one, doubts and questions about this new life had haunted me. From her perspective, being a writer is so intricately knitted into what you are, that you just come with it. Call it talent, tendency or maybe luck; certainly there seems to be something in a person's nature that inclines you this way or the other. Her words still make me think. The first year of my MA (I'm doing it part-time) is over, and I'm still trying to figure out what makes me a writer.

As a kid, I was constantly encouraged to read. My wonderful parents used to take us to the Banco del Libro (Book's Bank), where we would browse through a colorful selection of glossy children books for hours. Even earlier than that, they used to take us to hear story-tellers perform at the Teresa Carreño, Caracas' most important theatre.

With this background, and maybe hinted by my name, is no wonder that I was fascinated by fantasy and story-telling, wonderful worlds with lots of things happening. Reading has made me a writer. This is not a matter of the egg or the chicken. Without reading, I wouldn't be a writer. But I would bet that's mostly the way for many of my fellows in crime.

Reading Janet Fitch's 10 rules for writers, I discovered another element that makes me a writer. I'm obsessed with honesty. Not only the concept itself, but with the extreme, almost itchy, need to be specific about telling the truth, leaving nothing behind. As a conversation companion, I get that might be fastidious (yeah, fancy word huh?). As a writer, that honesty is essential. 'That’s why writing is a lot of work, and demands unflinching honesty.' (Janet Fitch, July 13th, 2010).

In my relationship with my work, I find that the most difficult part of honesty - being honest to yourself - needs to be applied constantly. After going through a six-month-long self-examination, the process of seeing into myself daily and identifying what makes me a writer, who am I as a such, what's my work about, themes, style, etc; I feel I'm now that much closer to getting a full, defined picture. To help me on my way, I've started a new project: Diary of a writer in the making. More on that later.