The children have just developed colds. The implications of this go far beyond the sudden abundance of snotty tissues.
Children with colds don't sleep well. And if the children aren't sleeping well, nobody else within a 500 metre radius has much of a chance either.
So, I wouldn't exactly say I woke up this morning. Just that, with the growing daylight, a troubled, tired, wakeful night gradually transformed itself into a troubled, tired, sleepy day.
It's one of the amazing things about children, how suddenly an idyllic life with happy, smiling, playful, sweet creatures on a bright, warm sunny spring day, can be hurled into chaos, mental confusion, spiritual darkness.
However, one odd thing I've noticed about this state of half-sleepness (horrible when first experienced, but to which one quickly grows accustomed), is that it lowers your boundaries.
This has definite disadvantages: it renders one more suggestible, compliant, obedient to the whims of others. Makes one generally more gullable.
But it also has positive effects – makes one more open to ideas, and more in touch with one's own unconscious, inspirational processes.
Thus it was that as I gradually emerged, blinking and dazed, into the harsh sunshine of the morning, inspiration struck. I now know what I'm going to write in my artist's statement. Problem solved, until the next one.
"I am exploring the issue of whether or not some forms of ritual can be considered also as forms of art".
Gone is all the arrogance, the contention, the defensiveness. Gone is the question of artistic survival … it's just another, artistically legitimate, experiment with the fabric of life.
