Category: Art Life
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Words Underground
It was another “medicine walk,” as I call them. These have become indispensable. I’m not able to describe what goes on during my medicine walks in pictures, though as a painter, I sorely wish I could. That’s why I’m stuck with words. Words in English. Words, words, words. Words like worms beneath my feet in…
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A Little Grief
The bond with one’s own pre-born baby is a bond more basic than fondness. It sits deeper than personality. It is a bond made irrevocably but not yet fully realized. The satisfaction of loving is in knowing the other, but I can’t really know Doloran as I know my living children. And that is perhaps…
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Looking at Pictures Again
There was a time in which I was a little girl, frozen still, on the floor, gazing into a book at a painting by Balthus. I was gazing at another pensive little girl, who was gazing back at me, perhaps lost in dreams of adulthood herself. I wished someday that I could paint her, too.…
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Pilgrim with a Pencil
It is important for me to keep writing. I have a physical journal where I put things. I put a hell of a lot of things on my Telegram channels and chat groups these days, and a sprinkle the rest over my poor husband’s ear while he’s trying to get some sleep. I’ve got to…
Michael Shelby Suberlak 