I look at the odds and wonder how could anything happen, and I read the psalms which all seemed to deal with pleading with God to deliver him from injustice, oppression, and enemies who seek to destroy life and almost always end with praise and thankfulness even in the worst circumstances.
Case after case comes up, and I noticed that the police that hassled us weren't there. The public defender loves his photos and says he'd buy them they're so good, and the judge said the same thing, and that while the act is criminal on the books, there was nothing criminal about making art and the beauty of documenting the city.
I can't believe I'm hearing this and I almost want to cry to see vindication when I thought there would be none.
And so we celebrate with a pair of Lazizas on the back porch, chill by the lake, tell the people we care about, and now the waiting continues. I wonder what the outcome will be for me next week.
I was in a weird state of being emotionally drained and hyped up and didn't want to be at home, so I walked down the West Park part of Lorain avenue shooting photos of bodegas, storefront churches, and Arabic shops much to the bemusement of the people hanging out on the street, and then called a friend of mine who's always up for a walk to see if she wanted to explore Tremont with me.
We walked down by Sokolowski's where the view of the city and the Flats is near perfect and then up through the main streets. We've both been dealing with a lot of the same things, questioning our relationship with our art, our relationships with others and ourselves as women who create.
Some of this will always be a struggle, to deal with honing our craft and the screwy business of art, to create beauty and realize that we are beautiful too even when the rest of the world doesn't see it.
1 comment:
As long as The Man® says so, creating art is fine.
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