Gates, Fences, and Walls

As is typical in Metro Atlanta, I live in what some would call a McMansion, in a gated community. It didn't take me long to discover that I was locked in with the crazies. The people within this gated community act just as squirrely as the people on the outside.

Within our upper-middle income community, we have had thefts, drug deals, speeding on streets kids play on, and vandalism... the people that did the crimes lived within the community.  Take for instance the fact that my car was ransacked last night. The thief took my backpack. But before they took it they removed the contents.. My binder for the community theatre board, my folders and receipts for each costuming project. They just took the backpack and the cell phone charging brick that was in the pocket.... well, that and then they tossed the car looking for change. They didn't even take the Gas card that had $17.00 on it. Chances are, this was a neighborhood kid.  Who lives in my community. If I see my backpack again, I will be pressing charges.

So besides the fact that my neighborhood is gated... there are actually 2 gates because it is a 2 part neighborhood and the pool and tennis are in the other part, the pool is fenced.  Tall fences... tacky fences with a bit of wire at the top to keep outsiders from climbing over and using the facilities. When they put in that horrible looking prison fence and the security cameras I stopped using it altogether.  First, I felt jailed. Second, I felt watched. No one wants to feel watched in their swimsuit... so fencing the pool took the enjoyment out of it.

And then there are walls. Who are they really for? And do you really want to be trapped in with the people building them?

Artistic Interpretations and alternative facts

When I was in college working on my BA in Fine Art, I would grate when it was time to critique one another's work... especially when it was time to critique mine. These people were always so far off the mark.

That time when I did a still life of things in my dorm room, which happened to include handcuffs that my brother won at the county fair and somehow I kept them as a momento. That still life was deemed deeply sexual when for me, they were a symbol of strength and connection.

That time when the teacher berated me for doing a Madonna and Child print when in reality the woman holding the child was my oldest sister who had died from Cancer at 30 and the child was my 2nd youngest brother who could not break out of mourning... He was broken and my heart was not only broken for me, but for him and the loss of her.  (I brought in the source photo the next day and threw it at him.)

How could these people look at my work in insinuate their own experiences into them. How dare those student (who I realized sometimes later were ALWAYS high for this class) turn strength into something dirty.  How dare that teacher get angry because he thought I had the audacity to draw something iconic without "permission" when what I had drawn was a broken heart.

How dare they.

These misinterpretations have stunted me artistically. It's been many years, but I am still afraid to put myself out there creatively due to what people might think... say. But I am getting there.

I had a thought today... Perhaps there were some truths in those critiques from decades ago. Perhaps I saw my older sister and younger brother as a religious experience. Perhaps there was some naughtiness to the fact that I included the handcuffs. Perhaps my subconscious knew something that my conscious mind was blocking.  Maybe they were right. Maybe they used alternative facts.

Speaking of alternative facts?  What the hell? But if that is the way our country wants to run itself right now... the actual facts will come out in the wash.  Eventually.

A video for your enjoyment.

Obama Care - tRumps only chance

People keep telling me to give tRump a chance.  Well here it is:

FIX HEALTHCARE

In anticipation to his inaugur-disater, Republican lawmakers have voted to repeal

Preexisting conditions, keeping young adults on parents plans, pretty much just the whole damn thing.

I hope people are happy, but here's what it means to me.

I AM UNINSURABLE.

My mother and several of her sisters died of cancer.
I have polycistic ovarian syndrome
I am pre-diabetic.
I have had a hysterectomy.
(But I am valuable)

I am a bad risk for insurance companies.  If I get sick, I will die. Period.

I have many people in my family in worse shape than me... they have had cancer and are lucky to be alive.  But lawmakers are yelling, repeal baby!

Why? Because a black president is attached to it.  (it is what it is)

Yes, it was imperfect, but it is what THEY helped design.

So tRump... slow down the repeal, and replace it with something that won't make getting sick a gamble.

I never really understood why healthcare is managed by insurance anyway... getting sick in an inevitability, not a game of craps.

Fix this and I promise to capitalize your name appropriately, despise you a little bit less..

Good luck.

Shakespeare Though

I've become obsessed with Shakespeare. 

Perhaps it is because I am currently repurposing costumes we used in The Complete Works of Shakespeare Abridged and using them for a kids show, Rumplestiltskin, so I am literally, conjuring up memories as I handle the costumes. 

Perhaps it is because we, the community theatre board just approved next year's season, and so I had time to think about what I love and what I wanted to see. 

Maybe it's because I experienced "1599" at the Irondale Center in Brooklyn some months ago and haven't been able to get it out of my psyche.  If hubby's job was still in NY, I would to see it again! (I wasn't asked to promote this). 

I wrote on my Facebook page today "Theatre without the Shakespeare is like reading without the alphabet". To me, it is the foundation of acting and an actor who chooses to skip it chooses to not