I’m trying to get better at this writing every day thing. But today words have not been flowing in any way that’s useful. It has just been hours of staring at screens and doing work and waiting for something that has the vague feeling of inspiration to do something like strike me. Instead what I have done is write the same few sentences over and over again as I try to figure out what it is that I am actually trying to articulate. I can sense the form of my thoughts, but their translation to words is fooling me today.
Given that I have decided to give myself a pallet cleanser of a day and explore a fiction story instead of working to continue to articulate my thoughts regarding space. I have recently been fascinated with the Idea of Medonsa, Medusa’s youngest daughter, a sort of awkward recluse of an individual who is struggling to create her own identity for herself in relation to her mothers success and acclaim as a famous classical character, turned Kim Kardashian style reality celebrity. I’ve been trying to get a sense of what her voice may be and to that end have been writing Medonsa’s diary, and exploring her voice through one sided conversations with the people that she stones. Here is one that I recently wrote and reworked today.
“I don’t even really know why i’m telling you all of this… Mother always tells me if I am going to grow up to be a really scary gorgon and make the family proud that I have to stop talking to my victims. She tells me I bore people to death, and then when I turn them to stone they look like thats how they died, and no one wants to furnish their gardens with real-life stone statues of people slumped over in the agony of being talked to death, but I’m lonely, and mother is not here right now, so you know, I’m just going to do what I want.
Plus jumping out and scaring people in mazes was moms thing. That’s how she got her start. I can’t do that too. It would be like nepotism or something. I have to figure out a way to do it myself, you know, find my own voice. I think it may be in knowing my victims, or you know models, whatever. Like having a relationship with them. My dream is too like fill a gallery with lots of you and be able to talk about who you were and what you liked. you know personalize it…
You know. do you ever, I mean did you ever just do what you wanted? You look like the type who did. I mean you don’t look like a hero. You’re not covered in muscles, and your sort of not that tan, but you have like a trendy haircut and some cute shorts, I bet you were like one of those hipster people, who biked everywhere carrying your electric guitar on your back and wearing plaid…maybe thats what i’ll have you put on before I stone you. Mothers always saying I need to be more inventive with the outfits I make for my victim as well, she keeps telling me, “Medonsa the devil is in the details.” but i’m just not that good at making outfits anyway. I keep wanting to make ones that are all fabric and flowing and catch the wind, but they just keep ending up rather clunky and then they break when I try to move em. Maybe something simple would be more elegant in stone.
Mother keeps telling me that their is no more market for statues with broken arms in this day and age, but I think its kind of retro so I am hoping it comes back in fashion. I did an entire series last year, of people I met and then stoned while out for walks in Prospect Park, and I broke the first woman legs off by mistake, carrying her home, so i did that for the whole series, trying to give it cohesion. It was my first ‘series’ but mom says you can’t make a series out of repeat mistakes, so she had me sell the bodies to the gravel company to chop up for paving stones. She said she would rather walk on the vestiges of my failures than have to see them in the garden. Mother is always making me chop up and destroy my work rather than keep it about the house. In a way I think that makes me more evil than she is, though she refuses to see it that way. Everyone sort of wants to be turned to stone by Medusa, you know. She’s been working this job for multiple ages, and barely has taken time off, she’s killed so many would be heros and demigods that I’ve lost track. But the great chroniclers have not, she’s always popping up in heroic tales, and stories, and frightening kids into bed at night. you know her work is pretty famous now, in museums and in the gardens of the elite. I mean once she started doing custom stoning for rich families, turning their love ones into statues on their death bed is when i think she sort of stopped being a villain and became a sort of b-list celebrity. Don’t tell her I told you that. OKAY! she’d be really angry if she knew I thought she had become sort of basic, you know. I mean i’m totally going to kill you before that happens anyway.
I just want to be recognized as an artist too, but I think I’m maybe just too like avant guard or unexpected for most people. or something… like maybe I should cut off your arm so you’re bleeding out when I stone you. could be pretty cool right, Like agony and stuff.
SORRY, please don’t cry. It’s ok. You’re just going to die, but I PROMISE to try and make you worthy of mothers rock garden. I MEAN you could live on forever in my art, and you would look just like you do now, you won’t ever age, or get old, or have your body fall apart around you. PLEASEEE stop crying, tears look so shitty when they turn to stone, and mother says hero’s never cry. you want to be a hero right. Please Please Please stop crying. Look how about this, if you stop crying I’ll let you pose yourself before I stone you. how about that? would you like to choose the pose your going to hold for eternity. It could be fun. you know. Like a game?”