Objects of Desire

I made these hair-pieces for my performance troupe, Source Lab.  We're performing and hosting a salon on April 25th.  We will premiere Story 1, our first movement and sound composition!

Here is a mysterious collection of magical objects.  Guts, scepter, fluids frozen?

Fledgling Myspace Music Page...

Hello my dear fans and readers!

Please hear some of my musical work on myspace at www.myspace.com/novadawnsong.  Everything that's up right now, I did in college.  Hopefully, I'll be adding more recent stuff soon.  Enjoy and let me know what you think!

Cheers!

Mlle. Novadawn M.

Lost, Miserable, and Hopeless

I'm in a process of searching.  For what?  It's rather vague.  I know that I'm not reaching my potential and that I need to move on and out of what I've been doing, especially in the realm of work.  Unlike many others, I have not the capacity to separate my work life from other aspects of my life.  For me to be fulfilled, my work must fulfill me, otherwise I will keep trying to escape my own life.  I am an artist and as such, I cannot ever seem to turn that self-identification off.  This creates a great dilemma for me because I'm keenly aware of the lack of talent and skill I'm currently employing at my job.  While it's been something that has earned me money for essentials, it was always meant to be a temporary step between here and somewhere else.  Unfortunately, 5 years later, here I am, still doing the same thing in the same town and with very little to show for it.  I'm burnt out.  I've been burnt out before, but this time it's even more serious.  This time I have a push and pull need to dive most destructively into the creative processes that will actually lead to a sense of personal fulfillment.  Rational thinking would tell me to be patient and ride it out until an opportunity for a better kind of job comes along.  Emotionally, possibly intuitively, I'm deeply compelled to up and quit, despite the shite economy, and take a gamble on my talents and true passions.  Can I really take another day, another month or six of a job, that while meaningful in it's own right, no longer brings me much joy, a job that acts as a constant irritant reminding me of my underachievements?  I'm finding that rather than letting me relax about basic needs being covered, my job leaves me emotionally and physically drained.  I have very little energy left for pursuing my creative aspirations.  Not only that, it may pay the bills, but it can't sustain certain things like music lessons, supplies, and other such things which I consider necessary to my success as an artist.  Perhaps, I'm just making a bad excuse here, so that I can cop out of just doing something, but I am doing something, and from where I stand, it's not enough.  I need more money and more time and more energy to dedicate to my creative pursuits or at least a job that doesn't suck my creative resources dry.  I've spent enough of the past 5 years sucking it up and making it work, now it's time to make it change.  I will not be doing the same thing in a year or two, I will be doing something far more exciting and personally fulfilling.  Personal fulfillment does not mean that what I do is all about me, on the contrary, I couldn't be fulfilled unless I knew that what I was doing would be to the benefit of others.  I know I'm not the only one in the world who is struggling with these dilemmas.  I know that it's as much a symptom of our imaginatively-challenged society as it is a personal issue.  That said, I'm desperately hoping to gain some practical sense of direction out of my sticky situation, and very soon.  Otherwise, I am ever more liable to make rash decisions.  Maybe that's just what I need....

It Was Maria de la Mer

Contemplating Death Isn't All Bad

Try as I might, I cannot seem to evade deep blues and shadowy blacks.  I have yet to identify a particular cycle, but it does come in waves.  Sometimes I get pulled down so deep that the thought of leaving forever visits and revisits and plays out in a variety of scenarios, both tragic and comedic.  I'm not entirely convinced that this is a bad thing.  I'm forced to face my mortality, and face it, I do.  As the years have passed and depression has become a familiar caller, I have found that my ruminations on death have always ended in a stronger will to live.  Perhaps, my fear of what others think has been my saving grace.  Usually, I end my suicidal fantasies with a realization of how pathetic it would be to be found dead by my own hand.  I do not want to leave this world remembered for committing such a tragic act, it's far too humiliating.  That said, when I'm floundering in such dark despair, it's all too easy for me to revisit the option.  It's wishful thinking, truly, the most extreme choice amongst many to alleviate my gnawing pain.  My other recurring thought when the weighty friend visits, is to run away to the countryside.  There, I would find a semi-remote cabin and hole up with my guitar and other instruments and spend my days playing music, gardening and tending goats.  Right now, I have to say, that sounds positively blissful.  As for creative motivation, usually when I'm depressed, my creative energy is too drained to be of any good, but occasionally, it brings me to a level of inspiration unparalleled by that of my "normal" emotional states.  Most often I produce interesting visual art, because, my voice tends to get stoppered and my words cinched.  

I bring all this up right now because, I'm currently wallowing in a vat of my own self-pity, disappointment, and seemingly uncontrollable chemical imbalances.  I had a vision of the above picture and I decided that a candid discussion on the subject was called for.  The truth is, I love and appreciate my ability to swing so fantastically upon the emotional pendulum.  It teaches me very valuable lessons.  However, I do hope that as time nudges me along, I will be able to have longer spells of equilibrium, thus allowing me to better realize my potential.  After all, one day my fear of being found floating in a river or cold in bed because I dove too far into unknowns, may not be enough to keep me coming back.  I shudder at the thought.  

(Don't worry folks, I have a counseling appointment this week.)

The Salon Gets a Face Lift!... Sorta...

Dear fans and readers,

I've decided to dedicate this blog to the wanderings, meanderings, adventures, and explorations into my world of creation.  To translate, I will now focus entries on my creative work and that which lies within it's orbit.  Perhaps, I'll still throw in an occasional personal diatribe or rant on other goings on in my life, but for the most part, I want you and me to enjoy the pleasures and pains of my laborious journey into a life lived for art.  So, here we go!  The Siren is singing, let her reel you in!

Love and Light (and Midnight too!),

Mlle. Novadawn M.

Creativity Titer

The question has been, "HOW?".

Now that that's out of the way, I remain unsure of many things.  The titer has returned confirming a positive.  My immunity to creative death is strong!

I've been infused with the knowing once again.  I'm infected with a good disease, right to the core of my bones.

Creation Flows.

Yesterday, on the bus a rather strange woman invited me to a party.  She thought I looked down, but I was just tired.  I was good tired from the hard work of creation.  She saw books in my bag and asked me if it was science or history, or what it was that I was studying.  I told her it was singing, and performance and such creative things.  She said she wanted to be like me.  She asked me how.  It finally, truly made sense to me.

The answer is and always was, GO, DO!  It's sometimes called showing up.

Away with the intellectual pondering of potential and possibility.  Go into it with not a thought, but what to sing in this moment, or that.  It's not the song, it's the voice.  It was always the voice.  The voice alone is enough.

Donum of Vox Vocis ~ The Gift of Voice

Now I obsessively repeat, "Today is a good day to sing."  It's my mantra, my melody.

Now I step through every doorway of opportunity, and let it lead me into the mystery.

Tomorrow, I fly south to sing.