If I had the energy to be embarrassed I might be embarrassed.
I might be embarrassed that for now I no longer seem to be writing about making art. I might be embarrassed that my blog states it is ‘about my art and other things’ when it has become about ‘other thing’s and not so much about ‘art’.
I might be embarrassed that the ‘other things’ have become almost exclusively about my husband’s journey, his descent into that tangled web of lost brain function, that dark and lonely place of dementia beyond reach of others. With his descent into that dark place my journey as his carer follows a parallel path.
I might be embarrassed that the studio I thought would be constructed and finished last Easter is still nowhere near finished but I’m not. There are reasons for that. I’m frustrated about the studio construction but that is a different story.
My husband’s name is Alberto, he is currently in hospital and has been there for over two weeks. Alberto was admitted to hospital with pneumonia. Although we are told the pneumonia is gone, he is still very unwell. With the pneumonia came a deterioration in dementia symptoms and he now inhabits a place I would never wish for him or anyone else to be.
In theory I am temporarily released from my immediate duties of carer, and while that is a partial respite, partial because I spend every afternoon with him at the hospital, it does in theory give me time in the morning when I might be able to think and make art.
It is not impossible to make art without a studio, I have managed to do so without one before, but it is much more difficult than having a space to walk into that welcomes you and breathes creativity into your heart.
I need creativity breathing into my heart right now because I feel that Alberto’s disease is sucking the life from both of us.
I could write reams about the experience of visiting Alberto in hospital. I am minded of the soul who is in the bed opposite to Alberto. This Soul gives a day-long running commentary about what is happening in his line of sight and it includes himself in the third person. The commentary is often amusing, always sad but is also an interesting insight to how we all have that running commentary in our heads. What we usually have with that commentary is the ability to censor wayward thoughts but for this Soul the censor is gone.
I say that the censor is gone but I do not know this Soul and it is possible he did not have the internal censor I am referring to in the first place, although to be fair, I suspect he did. It seems that in the current climate many seem to have lost their censor with the result that hate is spewed from their uncensored mouths. I am embarrassed that I am of the same species and can only hope we find a way for people to learn to be kinder, both to themselves and to others.
I will stop now, not because I could not write more but because I could.
A cat drinks from a puddle in my under construction studio.