Friday, June 12, 2009

Something Wicked This Way Comes

Yesterday, I had a rare day off – not even a day, a few hours – in which I forgot about art and the long list of chores that accumulate like dust during the course of a month. I browsed the shelves at a second-hand bookshop, after an unhurried lunch with a close friend, and picked through racks of vintage clothes at one of the few local boutiques that have them. I bought magazines: Juxtapoz, iD, Vogue Italia and a couple of trashy gossip rags.
The phone call hit me like a sniper's bullet in the middle of the street. A member of my family had just been diagnosed with a serious illness. Suddenly, I couldn't breathe and the sunlight that only moments before had felt so cheerful and revitalising was now a predatory searchlight, too bright and hot on my skin. I sat down on a public bench on the sidewalk and cried. Then I rang the person dearest to me: "You have to go. Be with them. Now." he told me.
In the space of the next couple of hours, I rescheduled two weeks of painting with my assistants, packed my bags (including one containing a printer and scanner), cleaned up my house and booked an open return plane ticket to Melbourne. I withdrew a few hundred dollars in cash from my bank account. I rang other members of my family.
Now I am ready to leave. Art feels like an imposition, getting in the way of the awful randomness of real life.


Septic Monochrome said...

Best wishes Hazel. I will keep you and yours in my thoughts.

Susan Adsett said...

hoping for the best for you and your family - take care, Hazel.

Cameron said...

Wishing you the strength to move through this Hazel. Getting news like that over the phone can be a terrible shock (I received news like that about my father & then my best friend a few years later) My thoughts are with you and your family.

Rachel Marsden said...

Take care and best wishes. My thoughts are also with you and your family.

Kate said...

all the best Hazel.

karo Akpokiere said...

Take care Hazel. My desire is for everything to work out fine.

Anonymous said...

may the force be with you.

take care


animadi said...


Your post reminded me of when I was around 11, I found out my mother was using again and I just sat there.
I mean I was numb/sick/I couldn't breath.
This person who I adored/cared more about than myself was sick and I couldn't do a thing.
Its a scary powerless feeling that ... is wicked, completely.
I hate when I hear circumstance/life is so cruel to a person I care about, I hope everything is ok. I really do.
Lots of love Hazel!

d.edlen said...

"the awful randomness of real life", yes. "These things happen," a friend told my wife after her 33 yo brother, Jason, died suddenly of an arhythmia a couple months over a year ago. Comforting in the complete lack of control.

We then lost time for the next year. Thank goodness for blogging.

And art.