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the bloodline

The Carucci girls, as my mom and aunts were called, became raw nerves as they got older. And then they died. They held everything within their bodies; sinew full with unshed tears, tense vocal cords stiff and ready to snap from 70, 80, 90 years of grief wrapped in silence. (Were they really any different than most women?)

Someone once described this behavior to me as being like a shaman. Taking it all “on” – not to be confused with taking it “in” – both do occur.

All of the sisters ultimately chose silence. Often burying themselves in reading books. Perhaps realizing instinctively that as they got older they could only – their bodies could only- hold so much more of other people’s energy being put upon them. They needed to stop taking it on and in (onin). They needed to walk away.

Had any of them chosen to be painters or sculptors or video artists, they would have been in the studio. Taking onin and processing it and expressing it in their work.

Motherwell said that “Artists are voyeurs” – not people of action. We are observers. Taking it in has its price, balanced with the creative process. This is the difference between the artist and non artist. A profound sensitivity, a raw nerve is ultimately responsible for the production of work that speaks.

In the long run for those who choose to be me makers, well, at least for this maker; words fall short and are too many. My choice is to extend what is beyond words to a visual form that most everyone can witness.

As a vein of the bloodline. I choose silence.

 


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