This or That_015

Item

A handwritten journal entry dated August 16, 2022, detailing the author's escape from noise pollution and reflections on personal and emotional struggles.

Title: This or That_015
Alternative Title: This or That
Creator: Karen Blessen
Date: 2022-2023
Description: The image shows a single page of a handwritten journal. The page is white with black ink. There are no visible artwork, photos, or doodles. The text is neatly written in a consistent font, with some words underlined for emphasis. The page is slightly crumpled, indicating it has been handled.
Identifier: B-2022_050622 to 2023 102523_THIS OR THAT
Dates Completed: May 6, 2022 - October 25, 2023
Keywords: Visual journal; Photographs; 2022; Deep rest; American LOVE Project; 29 Pieces; Sundown plans; Reinvigoration; This Moment in Time; Timeline; Loose ends; Original vision; Artists Making a Kinder World; Curriculum; Brandon Woodard; Prison; THIS OR THAT; IF THIS THEN THAT; Dhammapada; Eknath Easwaran; Meditation; Kelly’s mother; Grief; Anxiety; Summer heat; Garden loss; Nervous breakdown; Fort Worth; Hotel retreat; Art museums; Botanical garden; Construction noise; Emotional overwhelm; Daily choices; Goya; Beatrix Potter; Hokusai; Rico Lebrun; Future direction; Circumstantial clarity
Transcription: August 16, 2022
In Fort Worth, retreating from the noise pollution of wood chippers, steel saws cutting rebar, trees coming down and God knows what else.
I had to run away. I'm here in a Hilton near the Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth. The temp on the car said 11. The room is 69 degrees. Frigid.
I'm escaping noise that's built up like torture, Kelly and I contradicting each other on EVERYTHING. And the grief of losing P. Nut and Sparky.
What else? A general malaise induced by an extraordinary endurance test of a summer. Blazing hot. The drive over here was dramatic in the tan-ness of it all. The sky today was the color of sand. It may have been sand.
On Thursday, I thought I was having a nervous breakdown.
Unrelenting noise, a day that started with some insignificant bark from Kelly, uncontrolled tears whenever I imagined P. Nut. Grief about living in a neighborhood that feels diametrically opposed to what I value.
My fingers feel herky jerky and that bugs me. I love the feeling of writing. But not any more. It's not that my hands hurt. They just feel kind of less nimble. I don't like that.
I'm here hoping to arrive at some clarity about what's next after this transition. From The American LOVE Project, death of Sparky and P. Nut, talks of sunsetting 29 Pieces, dissatisfaction with Texas the heat the neighborhood.
What do I want? What do I want for US? Is there an us? A Kelly and I us?
So I sit here and I think - I want what I have. A home, a garden, a studio, time to do this and that. Time to be slow. If I want. Time to just sit in silence. I don't want a lot of pressure anymore. Financial or otherwise.
Rights: To inquire about usage, please contact Archives & Special Collections, University of Nebraska-Lincoln Libraries. These images are for educational use only. Not all images are available for publication.
Is Part Of: This or That
Relation: Image Gallery