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Tag Archives: end-of-life issues

2021 0610 icad10

I have a new electric eraser and here and elsewhere I am having fun with it. It is easier to draw with than then other erasers in my arsenal, though I haven’t reached sufficient proficiency to do all the things I want to do with it, even when I sharpen the end to a point. Time will take care of that.

As with many of my cards this year, here I’m using the back end of one of my little sketchbooks for dark-backgrounding of the card. I like including the holes the metal binding-wire went through. They remind me of old process-photography film, and of the sprockets that convey the sound in film movies. In both cases there is the sense of being a part of a continuum, most of which the viewer cannot see.

Another thing I want to share is that I’ve more and more gotten the sense that my finished pieces are too sketchy, and my sketches are too finished-piecey. But for most of my work the conveyed concept does the heavy lifting, no matter the sketchiness, so it’s all good. I’m also preparing for my future dementia: I may, and dreadfully soon (to me even thirty years is “soon”), not have very good or very many ideas. When I see that obviously happening, I intend to do remakes of my “greatest hits,” more finished and polished versions of my older work. I will be collaborating with my younger self. And I’ll be using state-of-the-art equipment to assist my effort. So I hope to be able to make a contribution to the visual arts right up to what my lifelong friend Tom Sing calls “stepping up to the turnstile.” Thinking about that helps quell my mild panic about my life’s endgame.

Yesterday at 5:11 AM Mountain Standard time my mother, Jane Bowers Stoneman, declared victory over suffering and dementia by shuffling off this mortal coil; or, as Shakespeare also put it, [Dies.]. I had started grieving for her some days before she stopped breathing, because the quality of her life had been declining, and the rate of decline was accelerating. It is heartbreaking that the end so often takes that shape. I will miss her terribly the rest of my life, and honor her memory, but I am glad she is shed of all her pain, frustration and sorrow.

I’d been working on this page and was about 2/3 finished when Mom died. I know my mother’s mind to the extent that she’d want me to plug away, finish this piece, and begin the next one, and so I’ve struggled all day to do what should have taken a couple of hours at most. It STILL could use some work, but there’s a significant chance that anything else I do at this point will make it worse rather than better.

This one’s for you, Mom, flawed as it is. Your loving son continues his journey. Please keep up the cheerleading as always.

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