First, a little business: today’s post is coming to you on a Monday! Which is different from the usual Friday, which in case any of you keep track, I’ve skipped three of. As I adjust to my new normal, I’m figuring out what’s going to work best for future posts. What I know today: Friday hits each week with a heavy of dose fatigue. Mondays have more momentum, and I’m giving it a shot. In the meantime, all paid subscriptions are paused, since anything like a regular schedule remains dicey.
If you’re new here: welcome! If you’ve been with me for a while: hello!
I’m a big proponent of cleaning up a space, especially when creative work isn’t flowing. And this weekend—because I scratched to my cornea on Thursday evening (it’s about as fun as it sounds)—my head hurt, and my energy was low and so was my patience for sitting and looking at a computer screen. So I cleaned my desk. I won’t say it was the most exciting thing I’ve ever done. But it was enjoyable, at least, and got me feeling better, in touch with all the little objects that decorate my life and support my path as an artist.
A few snaps from the process above and below.
Also, a couple new things came down the pipeline this month:
A podcast interview with Julia Hannafin about their writing life and beautiful new novel, Cascade, out now from Great Place Books. The book contains an incredible, indelible image that I will likely never forget.
It’s been a little bit since I wrote about a new release, and this month I covered two! Here’s one: an essay about Music and Mind, the new anthology edited by Renee Fleming: “Art for Life’s Sake: Essential Reading about the Healing Power of Music”
There’s more on the horizon—stay tuned!
Well, I'm a big fan of cleaning up. It's entirely different from being a neat freak. The eye appreciates order (until some other organ calls out for more disorder)--it's pleasing to see the towels hanging neatly and the bed made. Your pix make another good point: a bunch of loose shit is a bunch of loose shit until you put it in something and it becomes one curated thing. And I've always felt that despite the moment of freakout looking into the kitchen after having people to dinner, doing the clean-up is a cheap high, taking less time that you feared--this goes here, that goes there, etc. Not so different from late-editing/proof-reading. Be well, Sara.
I've had that kind of encounter with one of my corneas before - may you be seeing more clearly again soon (and feeling no pain).