Hi friends it's about an hour to the virtual art studio. This will be the last virtual art studio I facilitate over the summer and potentially beyond.
The three sessions with you all have taught me so much and I need to process and practice what I have learnt.
I don't want to be the god of the virtual art studio, I would love other facilitators to utilise the virtual space as well.
For this session I will be co facilitating with the attendees. I am excited to experiment with the space, I want to practice unmasking in group settings and I'm curious on how co creation and collaboration can foster belonging.
It's supposed to be a body doubling session that's what I had planned but I would like to see how it goes. I am really really hoping that we'll have the opportunity to share our work with each other as well though, that might be my only suggestion for the session.
So many things are happening IRL that I must give my time, effort and energy to especially this summer.
But once my hiatus is complete I would love to come back with another 4 virtual art studio sessions over 4+ months depending on the stars.
Join the virtual art studio this evening:
https://calendar.online/event/page/c6f0157bcbcca165d81177d1bd7e928a3706864ee0888f0a0e
I created Rheumatological Blues on a night like this where my fibromyalgia pain was keeping me up.
The flare ups are usually linked to my emotional status. Sad, anxious, stressed etc. = flare up.
I've had flare up after arguments, after uncomfortable conversations, after breakups, after mood shifts, after the dissolving of deep connections and after stressful days at work. My emotional state reflects in my body and it's so painful.
That's why I distance and disassociate. I'm avoiding the potential physical manifestation pain. And often I don't even realise the true impact of the emotional pain until night falls the painful sensations in my legs pay me an unexpected, unreasonable, unrelenting visit.
Right now it's 3am and I'm in pain. My pain is keeping me up, and it's been the same pain that's hurt me over and over again since I entered double digits. And after 20 years I still ask how to explain pain? How do I communicate the hurtful sensations that travel up and down my legs at night when I've been emotionally wounded?
I'm using my acupressure pillow because I don't want to use pain meds.
A part of me enjoys the pain today. The pain is like a manager that sets up too many one on ones. Overbearing and overly occupying my time. But today I'm sitting with my pain. I'm hardly contending with it. The pain is always a message. The pain asks me questions and answers my questions.
Why am I hurting?
Is it the pain of grief? Yes.
Is it the feeling of uncertainty? Yes.
Is it fear? Yes.
Image description: cream curtains lit up from behind in a pitch black room.
Why can't we speak on the pain?
Only on the gains.
Only on consumerism, followers and fame
Why is our truth a stain?
When did we become the ones to blame?
We’re supposed to be grateful
"Shut up, smile and don’t you dare turn hateful"
Can’t even complain
Pissing on us and telling us its rain
They tell us it's our fault
Again and again
All while they have gained
And gained and gained
They silence our pain
And we feel shame
We are not the ones to blame
We did not create the chains
For gold, grains and sugarcane
They hoard the wealth obtained
Through cheap labour its sustained
I despise the wealth that's bloodstained
So here's my poem on just sliver of my pain.
Tw: murder, violence, security forces, racism, anti-African rhetoric.
Image description: a screenshot of an Instagram post by projectartscentre. It reads:
"His name was Yves Sakila. He had lived in Ireland since 2004. He died on a Dublin street on Friday.
No crime in Ireland is punishable by death.
We stand with the Black community in Ireland, who deserve equal protection under the law, always.
We stand in solidarity with the Congolese community in Ireland.
We stand with Yves Sakila's family.
Use your voice and share.
#JusticeForYvesSakila"
----
There's dog whistles and empty rhetoric with white institutions regarding the murder of Yves Salika and I'm really disgusted.
I've been on Instagram recently and I saw this post from Project Act Center, a theatre multi function space in Dublin. I was once again reminded why I hate social media.
This is what I replied in the comments:
It doesn't matter when he arrived in Ireland. He didn't die, he was tortured to death. The fact that no crime is punishable by death is a completely irrelevant fact to add into this, the allegations of criminal behaviour have been used to justify torturing him to death. The dog whistles are really really loud. Why is there an assumption he committed a crime? Because the violent men that tortured him said so? And if he had come to Ireland last week Tuesday how would it change anything? Why mention when he came to Ireland? Who is he survived by? Why ain't you calling for the arrest of murderers?
