Jerome Artist & Councilperson Candidate
As usual, I have a big idea.
My vision for this quaint little art-town includes revitalizing what's already here, and expanding upon it. What better place on earth to promote the arts, than in the small historic mining town of Jerome, Arizona.
There are some serious gems here on the mountain, including a theater room and old auditorium, located at the Historic Jerome High School, which is also where my photo studio and art classroom are located.
I'm psyched about being a part of the formation of a theatre group here in Jerome, maybe take a stab at acting and singing. What I see happening is a wide array of local talent, showcasing musical performances, plays, dance, poetry readings, you name it.
I was recently interviewed by the Wicked City Chronicles. Check it out!
I am running for Jerome Town Council, as the "Artist Councilperson".
Here's a Little Bit About Me
My name is Susan Gregory, I am 54 years old, the mother of two adult children and one grandchild. I was born and raised in Connecticut, and moved to Arizona in 1989. After 20 years in the Phoenix area, I move to Sedona. I journeyed up the mountain of Jerome in late 2016, where I opened Red Bench™ Gallery & Photo Studio at the Old Jerome High School Art Center. I became a resident after that, living happily in a house on The Boardwalk.
I am an artist, a photographer, a writer, a model, and a social justice advocate. I love books, music, movies, hiking and creating art using a variety of different mediums. I have extensive experience owning and running businesses, excellent multi-tasking and time management skills, and I thrive where details are concerned. I am also tech savvy, utilizing social media, website work, and creating marketing and promotional materials for the events I design and host. I guess you could say, I have a diverse skill-set.
I am a strong believer in service work, which is how I live my life - it keeps me grounded. I have volunteered over the years for a variety of non-profit organizations and community functions, started programs in Sedona, and was a member of the Social Justice Committee at a local Sedona Church for quite some time. I was a board member of the Sedona Area Homeless Alliance for a couple of years, which ended in December, 2019. When I saw that the Town of Jerome was in need of Council members, I decided to run.
I love this little town. Jerome feels like home to me. Giving back to the community is important. I am running as the Artists' Councilperson, focusing on preserving the future of the arts in Jerome, which is always near and dear to my heart. I am particularly focused on the revitalization of the theater room at the Old Jerome High School, and being a part of the development of a local theater group, involving music, dance, and performances. Meeting new people and helping out where I can is of great benefit to me, as I enjoy being a part of solutions. My simple philosophy is this: if you love where you are, do what you can with what you have, to make a difference in the lives of all concerned. I feel Jerome is a family, and I am blessed to be a part of it.
You will see me walking around town on most days, even in the rain and the cold. You can't miss my pink hair, or my colorfully painted art car. Don't be shy - introduce yourselves to me. I want to get to know you. If coffee is involved, that's even better!
I am grateful that you took the time to read this. There is so much more, obviously, to say. But for now, this is my casual introduction, and I am pleased to make all of your acquaintances.
Jerome Town Council Candidate
Monday, November 18th, 2019
This is what gets me through the day, no joke.
A fellow-writer friend sent me a message this morning:
"How do you do it? With just the things I know you've gone through, how do you come out on top? What do you do to motivate yourself every day? I've got so much I want to do, and yet for some reason, still let things not get done. Any suggestions?
"What do I get done??" I asked.
"Come on, you've been knocked down, picked yourself up, and started a business. What do you do to motivate yourself?
"I don't do anything. I just love what I do." I replied.
"Thought maybe you had some ritual to keep you going."
Immediately, I thought about what I do every morning when I first wake up. And then the list went on from there. This is what has evolved from 10 years of practicing lots of different philosophies, ideas, programs and exercises. This is what I sent to my friend:
I make a mental gratitude list in my head every morning. I say it out loud to myself, usually when I'm in the bathtub or shower.
Meditate and Visualize.
Create my day.
Make the bed.
Wash the dishes.
Pick up around me.
Never leave a mess.
Take an action.
Put together a project.
Start gathering the pieces.
Let go of all expectations.
Keep moving on to the next project without skipping a beat. I don't let things get me down, ever.
Drink lots of water.
Listen to good music all day long.
Limit phone time (I barely ever talk or text.)
Limit social media (use it for work.)
Stay off the computer (unless working.)
Read articles of interest every day.
Be present in every moment.
Make time for my closest relationships.
Schedule self-care days.
I don't do it all. I delegate and empower others.
I pray before every meal, giving gratitude.
That's about it. He asked me what a "self-care day" meant. This is what I said:
My self-care day looks like this:
This morning's message chat with my friend sparked this Blog, and it was a good reminder to myself. I guess I do have rituals, and I do know what I'm doing, even though most of the time I don't realize it. By the way, it's not like I have a rituals checklist everyday either. These are the things I do on a daily basis without thinking about it, they just come naturally.
What am I doing today? Well, it's 2:00 in the afternoon, and I'm on Ritual #5. I'm putting together my business's 2020 marketing plan.
A Past Chapter
You know that moment when you instinctively know that a part of your life is done? For me, it's something I can't force, and most of the time I don't even know it's over. It just hits me like a ton of bricks. I literally wake up one morning and it's blindingly clear.
I re-read parts of The Secret Butterfly Trail this morning, and that's when the ah-ha moment happened. That person, the one I used to be, doesn't exist anymore. Just like I'm not 10 years old anymore, that version of me is gone. It's the same as the version of me that existed 10 years ago - she is no longer. That life is just a memory now. I am a whole new person. I don't resemble who I was 10 years ago in any way whatsoever.
I think that's part of the miracle of life, that we keep growing and moving forward, whether we want to or not. And it always sneaks up on me, when I wake up one random morning and realize I am not who I was before (thank goddess!)
That's where I'm at today, looking back on that person I was and feeling a little sad. I don't miss her, you can bet on that. But there is a melancholy about it, a little bitter-sweet feeling. I am so far removed from her, that I can look at her as if she is a separate entity. A ghost, maybe. A hologram, perhaps. It's a relief that I no longer carry her burdens. And it's reassuring to see now what I couldn't see then. A lot of hard work has paid off, and now it's visible to me.
All of that said, it is now time to let go of her in every way. The Secret Butterfly Trail is a glimpse into a short period of time when she existed. Mind you, when I write a book I burn the journals from which the material came from, which is why I write in the first place. I journal and journal for years and years, then a book is born. Afterward, the journals are burned in a little ceremonial thing I do for myself, and then I can move on with my life. Writing, for me, is an ongoing therapy.
A new book is incubating now, the growth process is very real. Some days I feel bloated, almost like I'm pregnant, getting ready to birth this thing. No joke, it's like that. It's always like that when I'm busy writing a new book.
What does all of this mean for you?
I'm clearing the shelves, making room for what's coming next. and I mean that literally and figuratively. I have a limited supply of paperback copies ready to go. I want them gone before the new book is released. Autographed copies are just $25 online (this includes shipping in the U.S.). Once this supply is gone, there will be no other signed copies left.
The Secret Butterfly Trail is an easy read. Straight out of my journals and straight onto the pages. It's also part of a series of books I'm writing called An Ordinary Life., which began with God Knocked Me Off My Bike, released in 2010, which is being re-edited. Here's a short description of The Secret Butterfly Trail:
"Troubled by my past and seeking a new life, I suddenly found myself homeless and meandering through the heart of the Midwest. From New Mexico, I traveled to Michigan to live with my son and his family. With nothing but a bike and a backpack, I made my way following the trails of southwestern Michigan. Two thousand miles away, my ex-husband’s suicide drove me into the winter of my deep despair. Reconsidering the choices I had made in my life, I did what was for me, the unthinkable. I traveled back to my hometown in New England which I had left 21 years earlier. On a quest to find a final resting place for my ex-husband’s ashes, I found more. In death, he led me back home to face what I had run from in the first place – myself. This is a story of death and rebirth, of despair and hope, the journey of my lifetime." - Zushka Biros
Of course, The Secret Butterfly Trail will remain for sale on Amazon, Kindle, Nook and iBooks, indefinitely. But the paperback copies I have in my studio will not. Once they are sold out, I will not be reordering any more. Buy the book for yourself, or as a gift for someone else. It's easy, just click HERE, select "Autographed" and follow the prompts.
Thank you for taking these books off my hands, and making room for the next case of new books, badass is the new pretty (in lowercase purposely, by the way). Subscribe to my Blog and get the latest updates on the new book, and all the books I'm writing, including how to pre-order before they go live. And thank you all for supporting me through the years, for the wonderful reviews on Amazon, and encouraging me to keep writing.
"Can I pre-order the book?"
"Will it be ready in time for Black Friday?"
"What is it about?"
Well, I can tell you this: No, and no - the book will not be ready in time for Black Friday, nor will you be able to pre-order it anytime soon. Life got in the way. A lot has happened this year, not all good, not all bad. I got engaged to my best friend, moved into the house of my dreams, my business expanded by leaps and bounds, and I got healthy and lost a lot of weight. Needless to say, I have more energy than I've had in many years, my health issues are nowhere near as terrible as they once were, and I have the support of a good man. In a nutshell, it's been one hell of a growth year - on steroids, turbo-charged.
Here's the thing, growth isn't painless. Period. It's been a big struggle for me, an uncomfortable insecure, self-doubting 10 1/2 months. I finally took that leap, jumped off the proverbial cliff while trying to build an airplane on the way down. Entrepreneurship is no rose garden. On paper, the plan looked great. In real life, the paper lit itself on fire and I was left scrambling, with my hair ablaze.
I chose this. I chose every little bit of it. I set a goal in motion three years ago, and I tripped and fell every step of the way. There's no college course or seminar that I could have taken to prepare me for anything remotely close to what I've experienced. Mistake after mistake, there were lots of days when I thought I should pack it up, start over again and go out there and get a job. But I was so far removed from that ideal, I had no clue how to go backwards. Perhaps that was a blessing.
Great mentors have inspired me over the years. I am grateful for the one-on-one advice, no doubt about it - powerful successful women who broke through all kinds of barriers, and made it. So, I was next to make it, right? I think so... right?? (Insert sound of crickets here.)
Okay, so I failed. Not once, not twice, oh hell I don't know, I lost track of how many times. But the one thing I do know is really simple. Failure IS growth. It is falling and getting back up again, and falling again and getting back up again and again. The truth is, I wouldn't be as strong as I am right now had I not failed time and time again.
Mind you, failing is not fun. It can be heartbreaking, even. I don't honestly know if there will ever come a time when I stop failing. Truth be told, if life becomes too easy for me I'll probably get bored. I am an ever-evolving human, destined for greatness by way of the bumpiest road on the planet. And I am totally okay with that. I have had plenty of smooth roads, they get me through until the next big bump blocks my path. And those smooth roads will appear again when the time is right. That time is not now.
"Badass is the New Pretty - what is it about?"
This book is full of stories, journal entries, writings about the times when I thought I'd die, or the world would end (which is the same thing, isn't it?) It's about crawling through the muck and the thorns, digging up whatever needed to be uncovered about myself, exposing it to the light and the storms. It's about stripping away all that was no longer necessary, which was basically e v e r y t h i n g, and getting to the core of what makes me tick. It's about getting real, and I mean really real, not with anyone else, not because of anything else, and certainly not because anyone told me I had to. I did it all through osmosis - an organically natural state of being, brought to yours truly by way of something much bigger than myself. Basically it's about all the fucked up shit I've done over decades of my life, clinging to what I was taught, or what I thought was right, or what I dug my nails into and tried to control. And how all of that got me absolutely nowhere.
Badass, to me, is the letting go and surrendering of everything, starting from ground zero and building myself up from the roots. It is being authentically and originally me, without self-judgement or feeling fearful of what others think about me. Badass is freedom, total liberation from all lies I told myself. And I know I'm not alone. There are plenty of women in this world going through, or have been through, the same thing.
No longer did I care about being judged by how pretty I was. To be a badass means being okay with who you are, shedding the mask and exposing your true beauty - stretchmarks, wrinkles, scars and all (literally and metaphorically). It means speaking your truth about what's real, being fearless and sharing all the parts of yourself that you were told to hide, that you were told were ugly. Pretty has an all-new meaning, now doesn't it?
The term, Badass is the New Pretty, is the raw and real female goddess warrior, because that is exactly who we were born to be. It is the metamorphosis, the blossoming of the lotus out of the mud. We were born strong, it was the world that beat us down. We women were dealt a bad hand. Now, we have a voice, we are empowered, we are badasses and we are pretty because of that. Is there anything more beautiful than a woman who is uniquely herself, fearless and self-confident? I'll answer that for you - NO, there isn't.
I'm still assembling my mess, putting my words and stories into some type of order that makes it readable. I'm sharing my disorderly life experiences with you. I don't proclaim to be a guru that will show you the way. This is not a self-help book, and I am certainly not an authority on anything. This book is full of relatable experiences - some, heart-wrenching; some, hysterical; some, downright nightmarish. But all of them, honest, and a common thread that most women can identify with.
If there is anything badass about me, it is the fact that I have no filter, I cut through all the bullshit and lay it all out on the table. I can serve it up just as well as any man. The time of the polite, quiet, little lady is over. I'm here to give us all permission to be exactly who we are - spiritually, sexually, artistically, creatively, any way you want to be. Go make that first million, have a baby, build a house, build an empire - do whatever you were told you couldn't do by yourself. They lied. You could always do it by yourself. And you can always choose to build your life with someone, if that's what you want.
So, here's to all the badass women of the world. May you stay strong, gather your goddess tribe around you, put your feet in the mud, release any and all things that are toxic and no longer serve your vision. Bathe naked in the moonlight, dance every chance you get, eat that slice of cake, travel and set your roots firmly in yourself. Cheers!
Here's the deal - before I can jabber on and on in this blog, we need to get something straight - what the hell is Mercury Retrograde?
The term retrograde comes from the Latin word retrogradus, which literally means “backward step.” As the name suggests, retrograde is when a planet appears to go backward in its orbit, as viewed from Earth. Astronomers refer to this as “apparent retrograde motion,” because it is an optical illusion. The opposite of retrograde is direct or prograde motion. Prograde motion is the term astronomers prefer, while astrologers are more prone to use the term “direct” motion.
So what does all of that have to do with people wanting to hide in their rooms for weeks at a time? Those who dread Mercury’s retrograde motion say that, when the planet travels backward, its power to positively influence these domains is stifled, leading to chaos. Believers in the malevolent power of Mercury retrograde blame the phenomenon for everything from arguments to lost mail or luggage to automobile accidents, and warn people to hold back on conducting important business during this time. Of course, few of us can afford to hide under our beds for three weeks, so for most people, life goes on as usual during Mercury retrograde. And if you choose to be more cautious during this time, well, a little extra caution never hurt anyone.
So what does all of that mean for me? Well, I can tell you this - these past 7 days have been anything but normal. Not that I really prefer normal, but it's been a bit much for me to handle. Nothing outrageous has happened (knock on wood), but holy cow! Talk about one thing after another thing after another fucked up thing!
People not getting back to me, or just not showing up at all; waiting for someone to finish something so I could do my part, but they were waiting on another person to finish their part - the domino effect just won't quit. And it's not just me, everyone around me is experiencing some truly screwed up stuff too. I mean, what are the odds of your dog locking you out of your car when you stopped for gas on your cross-country trip - not once, but twice?? I saw a friend blow up at one of his family members, the calmest guy in the world, mind you. Friends suffering depression, problems at work, disagreements with their family members. My car broke down, literally stalled while driving downhill, and I'm talking a really big hill! my cellphone decided not to work, then it did, and then it didn't again. My WiFi did the same thing, so did my computer. And it was only during the time I needed them so I could get work done. I even had to cancel a workshop, something I have never had to do before.
All of this is insignificant, I know. None of it is life-threatening. There's just a bunch of stupid little things going on all at the same time, making me feel like I'm running in circles. From what I gather, we will be out of Mercury Retrograde after the 20th of the month, just in time for the beginning of the holidays, thank God. I can't even imagine dealing with a family holiday in the thick of it.
So, for those of us who are extra-sensitive, especially me being a full-blown Scorpio while the retrograde is in Scorpio, fear not! There is hope. Maybe a drink is in order, I really don't know. But, for today I can tell you this: I spent my time in pajamas, on this cold stormy day on the mountain, drinking coffee and listening to good old CD's, while attempting to work from my home-office on my computer. Did I succeed? No, but that's totally fine. I spent the day in a peaceful warm house, grateful for hot water and good food. Now that the evening is headed into night, I'm typing this blog while clothes spin around in the dryer. I don't know about you, but for this former homeless veteran of the gutter, I'm pretty much in heaven right about now, despite how the planets are aligned, or not.
There is no moral to this story. Just that, I was forced to slow down and remember that I am not in control. I am grateful to be alive, for this life that I'm living, for so many things I can't even count them all. And that's better than I've been in many long years. Mercury Retro-what? You've got nothing on me.
Stay warm, sleep well, and thanks for reading.
Look, we only have a limited number of days on this planet. Why waste them living in the beige?
I get it, beige can be comforting (almost). Sometimes the familiar feels safer than the unknown. Sometimes dimming your light for the sake of blending in seems important. And sometimes people spend their entire lives conforming to society's standards. They have trouble identifying who they are and what their true passion is. For them, it is easier to follow than to lead.
I'm not writing this to put people down. I'm writing this from experience. I chose to live in an uneventful mundane existence for many years. If I think about it long enough, I can try to blame it on others. But the truth is we all make choices every single day, every minute of every day. WE are all we have to blame, not out of guilt or shame, but just because we didn't know any better.
For me, I didn't want to rock the boat. I wanted to fit in. I strove to be a part of my community. The only way I knew how to do that was to blend in, like a chameleon. I tried to be like all the other wives, moms, coworkers. I wanted to be liked. I wanted to appear successful. I was insecure, self-conscious. I didn't want anyone to see what was really going on inside me.
We are all we have to blame, not out of guilt or shame, but just because we didn't know any better.
I believe that we are all born with innate abilities and talents to create - to create something, anything. Some of us are slow learners, like me. But that doesn't mean it's impossible to break free from whatever holds us back, no matter how long that takes.
The loves of my life have always been writing and making art. I started at a young age with journaling, sketching and oil paints. But as I grew into the angst of adolescence, my style changed into something edgier, a bit dark and definitely different than pretty landscapes and still-lifes. My tastes in the arts ranged from punk rock, with the soul-shaking voice and lyrics of Joe Strummer, to authors like J. D. Salinger, specifically the book, The Catcher in the Rye; from the funky contemporary artwork of Andy Warhol, to the over-the-top clothing designs of Betsey Johnson.
Somewhere along the way, I got lost. Adulthood came screaming into my life at the young age of 19. Before I even knew what hit me, I was married, had a baby, a mortgage and a business to run. The rat-race had begun, and every day was a "Ready! Set! GO!!" to the finish line - death. Sometimes death sounded like a better solution to me than life. I don't mean that I wanted to die, just that I'd rather close my eyes and fall asleep and never wake up. Some of you will get this, some won't. I had a load of responsibilities, unequipped to handle any of them, and felt like I was drowning most of the time. I wanted so desperately to do everything right, not make mistakes, and to be accepted by everyone.
Somewhere along the way, I got lost.
In a nutshell, I was a ticking time-bomb. I squeezed myself into a little box. It wasn't sparkly or brightly colored. It was beige, camouflaged. I became invisible. I became just like all the other housewives and moms around me. I didn't want to stand out. I didn't want anyone to think I was weird or different. Worst of all, I didn't want anyone to label me as one of those teenage pregnancy statistics. By the time I was 21, I had two babies to care for. Trust me, I got a lot of stares and hurtful comments just about everywhere I went.
Resentments and regrets were swelling up inside of me. My childhood dreams of traveling the world, meeting artists and radicals, and writing books about my experiences were tucked away in my memories until they finally disappeared in the category of "nonsensical things". I learned quickly to become practical and frugal. I got a cookbook and taught myself how to cook dinners for my husband. I stuck to a budget, changed diapers, and did it all with a smile.
It was just a matter of time before I imploded.
My soul was broken.
My record albums got put into boxes. So did my paints and brushes, journals and books. There were more important things to focus on now, like decorating a home (all in beige), grocery shopping for a family of four, balancing the checkbook and paying bills, laundry and cleaning the house. That pretty much summed up my days for a solid decade. I wasn't even 30 yet, and I felt like I was 50.
I got a desk job working for a local municipality. The benefits were great, the pay not so much. But my husband was the breadwinner so I guess it really didn't matter. I got the job because the kids were growing up, in school all day, and I was bored.
We moved into a cookie-cutter neighborhood where all the houses were beige. I hung a wreath on the front door so I'd know which house was ours (true story). My work wardrobe consisted of pleated pants and dress shirts - beige and white - and closed-toe black shoes, with no more than a 2" heel. My hair was pulled back into a ponytail and I didn't wear makeup. I was as beige as beige can be.
My soul was broken. That's the best way I can describe it - when you give up on life, settle for less than you know you deserve. You live a groundhog's day of existence. Day in and day out, you go through the motions. The routine becomes so ingrained that you could do it all in your sleep. That's how I felt for years, like I was in a coma.
There was nothing to look forward to. Spontaneity was gone. There were no surprises. Even hope faded away. There was no color left in my life. But all it took was a little nervous breakdown at age 34 to snap me out of it. Seriously, out of ALL of it!
Periodic meltdowns are important to encourage change in one's life - embrace them. I'm not recommending you force yourself to have one, even if that was a possibility. Trust me, they aren't fun to go through. They are downright messy, and if you're lucky you'll get some good drugs from your therapist. But for me, I chose to go directly through it cold-turkey.
The gory details of why the meltdown happened aren't necessary, they never are. The beauty of it is that it freed me from the life I was living, like being in a hypnotic state and finally opening my eyes. On the couch in a therapist's office, I took my first breath, seriously. I took a deep long breath like I was gasping for air. Sounds like being reborn, doesn't it? I think I was.
Colors started to appear almost immediately. This is no joke. I got my own house and decorated it with lots of vibrant colors. I grew a garden full of flowers. Beige no longer existed in my life. That included my job and the style of clothes I wore. A little bit of makeup and some hair-dye, and I was off and running into my new life. That's exactly what it was, a new life.
Sometimes changes happen quickly, sometimes slowly. In my experience, what appeared to happen quickly slowed down for a number of years. But that didn't mean they went back to beige. Something was percolating under the surface - creative dreams of deep burgundies and bright turquoise. My life was manifesting right before my eyes, like a magical trip filled with pinks and greens. Shimmering and sparkling like fireflies' reflections on a still pond during a warm summer's night, my world was evolving.
Effortlessly, everything blossomed in all of the colors of the spectrum, so vivaciously you could taste them. The sky was bluer, the leaves were greener. The rust-colored tones of the sunrise peered through my bedroom window, gently waking me into a day filled with yellow butterflies, bluebirds, and red roses. The world was more alive, I was grateful for my life just the way it was, and there wasn't a stitch of beige to be found anywhere in this new tapestry.
Look, we only have a limited number of days on this planet. Why waste them living in the beige? Be who you were born to be. Talk to a four-year-old to get perspective on life again. Jump in the mud puddles, sing loud (even if you sing off-key), splatter some paint on a canvas, write something really horrendous, eat a big hunk of chocolate cake and wear your best dress while doing it. Break some rules, skinny-dip, laugh a lot. Stop taking yourself so seriously that you can't even stand to be in your own company. Love your body, color your hair pink or blue or purple. Dig out those old record albums and play them all night long. Dance, act in a play, push your boundaries. Be unapologetically brave. Pull out your courage and expose it to the world. Take back your power and have a whole lot of fun in the process.
Choose to be red, or yellow, or orange, or any other color you want. Live today like it's the last day of your life, and never look back.
Thanks for reading.
s o c i a l m e d i a a p p r o p r i a t e v i d e o
"Two and a half years ago, I wandered into a room in an old-high-school-turned-art-studios, on the side of a mountain - Jerome, Arizona."
Wow, what a great beginning to a story!
Truth is, it's probably one of the best stories of my life. Not because it was easy, but because of its adversities.
I didn't know it in the winter of 2016, but I was headed for a meltdown, one of the biggest and longest I've experienced. It was like crashing in s l o w m o t i o n. And it couldn't have happened to a better person, or in a better place.
My studio provided a safe spot to land. I didn't have a plan, or a clue of what I was going to do. All I knew was, I was supposed to be there. Seriously, it was like one of those moments when you know - you just know that you belong. The studio, and the little town of Jerome itself, made me feel like I was okay.
And it couldn't have come at a better time. Four months later, I became homeless. I spent more and more time in my studio - working at my desk, sleeping on the couch, borrowing a tub from a local musician for baths - you know, the usual.
I spun out out of control, thank God! Control was my middle name, it was about time I lost it. What I gained was more than I could have ever imagined in my wildest dreams.
Today, I look back on the time I've spent in my studio, all of the projects, art shows, music performances, photo workshops, art classes and a whole lot of silliness. And I recognize how different I am now, thanks to all of it. (More on that later.)
What I love is this: the diversity and variety of artists I have been privileged to spend time with, has unexpectedly rubbed off on me - their art forms, their personalities, their lifestyles. I am in the company of greatness.
Here's the thing: Over time I dabbled in photography, specifically in the manipulation of digital images, creating what appear to be gritty, edgy, bizarre photographs. A weed growing through a crack in the steps, shadow and light playing across a blackboard, old paint peeling off a cement wall in a dark basement - odd angles in various stages.
That, combined with this: nude modeling. This was also my path during the meltdown years. What did it bring me? Empowerment, acceptance, badassery - and I'm not talking about the pretty parts.
Here's the deal:
* The glorious rage - raw, real, dirty.
* Being homeless - fear, displaced, broke.
* Total meltdown - surrender, loss, relief.
E v e r y t h i n g spilled out through photos, words, and images splattered with paint, glued onto magazine pages, and turned into animated pop art. And that's just the beginning.
Six months ago, I got focused. I stopped giving myself away. I stopped doing for others what I could be doing for myself. Something was stirring, and I knew I had to clear out all the junk in my life, and in my studio, to get ready. But this time, I did have a plan, I did have a clue.
*e x p o s e d* represents all that. An unveiling of growth, through an art-form I'm not even sure how to describe. Actually, I'm glad there are no words for it, because it is my personal journey, not anyone else's.
So let's have a party! DJ Louder and Boyz Club will be shaking down the building all night, starting with House Music and going into Techno Beats. Good food and good wine throughout the evening, loads of fun people, dancing, laughing, and.... oh yeah, live black-light body painting! All you photographers, bring your cameras.
Friday the 13th of September, 2019
Opening Reception: 6 p.m.
Not Your Typical Art Show: 6 - 11 p.m.
Techno & House Music by Boyz Club & DJ Louder: 8 p.m. - 12 a.m.
Food & Wine
Zushka, the artist: Unusual, Uninhibited, Unorthodox, Unapologetic
#livebodypainting #photography #zushkabirosphotography #redbenchstudios #oldjeromehighschool #jeromeartcenter #jeromeaz #fridaythe13th #september2019 #zushkaexposed #popart @zushka.biros @modelzushka @photographyredbench #mixedmedia #collageart #analogart #psychedelicart #blacklight #supportlocalart
More To Come
I know how the saying goes: we are what we think all day long. I get that. I begin every day feeling happy, truly happy. I'm like a kid on Christmas morning every day, excited about what the day will bring. Now, that doesn't mean I don't get tired, and want to sleep in sometimes. And yes, I do need coffee, because I am addicted to it, to wake up my brain and help my mouth form complete sentences. I may not physically look excited and happy, or even content in the mornings. But the truth is, I am. I love my life. I get to create all day, every day. I have wonderful friends, and the best boyfriend on the planet. Work, for me, is fun. I am happiest when I'm absorbed in a project, and working at it for days at a time. I'm grateful for everything. I wouldn't want anyone else's life, that's for sure.
It takes a lot to bring me down. And it's not something that happens to me very often. I have meltdowns every now and then, but it's been a long time since the last one. I can't even remember when that was. Life isn't something to get over and have a happily-ever-after forever. This isn't a depression, it's not even sadness really. There wasn't any catastrophic event that drug me down into the pit of despair. Nothing at all that dramatic.
But sometimes, life throws so much at me that whatever positive practices or uplifting routines I have just don't do the trick. Does anyone else experience this? I mean, I know for a fact that there are always those in the world who have it worse than I do. I'm not complaining about what I have or don't have. Those aren't even things that matter to me. Things themselves don't matter to me.
This week has been a big wallop, just smacking me down no matter what I do. I had to face a few big hard truths these past few days. Even with that, I still managed to wake up, look outside, watch the sunrise, get up, get dressed and get out of the house. But I found myself not feeling so great. Even during my morning drive, music didn't work its magic on me either.
Coffee, long drive, music - those are usually guaranteed to perk me up.
This isn't a doom and gloom blog post. I think it's important for those of us, who appear blissed-out and eternally positive to the whole wide world, to know it's okay to not feel okay sometimes. I'm not curled up in a ball in the corner, sobbing uncontrollably. I'm not ready for the psych ward, yet. it's just, like a void.
I heard someone in a grocery store this afternoon say to another person "hang in there, not much longer left to this day." And it made me wonder, how many people get up every day and go to a job, or do something that they don't like. And all they can think about is "when will this day be over?" Life becomes a chore that they have to do, every single day. I looked around at the people in the grocery store, and most of them pretty much looked like they just gave up on life. They go through with the routine every day, but do they feel satisfied? They just sort of exist, not really living a fully abundant life.
I don't want that to be me. I am one of the lucky ones, I think. And just because I'm not feeling too positive lately, does not mean that I'm feeling negative at all. I'm just feeling blah, eh, not so hot.
So here's to us, the veterans of the gutter. Those unfortunate souls who get stuck sometimes, even though we're ultra-positive to those in need. I'm going to treat myself to something yummy tonight, and take a long hot bubble bath, watch a movie on Netflix, and enjoy a deep sleep. Maybe I'll even sleep in tomorrow. Who knows, maybe the reset button will kick in and I'll be a totally different person by morning.
Thanks for reading.
Traditional is not a word that I would use to describe myself. I'm not into gender roles or conventional ways. I am far out on the other end of the spectrum of socially acceptable standards. I am the polar-opposite of traditional. That's pretty much how I've always been. Even when I was a kid, I struggled to identify with what I thought I was supposed to be. My choices were limited, and I wasn't having any of it. I've been bucking the system since I was born.
And yet, there are certain charming attributes of a time-gone-by that I find endearing. There are some nostalgic, precious customs that make sense to me. And it only took 53 years for this side of me to be revealed.
Relationships have not been easy for me. I've had my share of difficulties, heartache and trauma. Did I pick the wrong guys? Probably. But those guys were just being who they were, and I chose to jump right into their chaos. I thrived on the drama.
Ten years ago, I learned about myself, erased the victim-role and cleaned up my side of the street. But it didn't happen overnight. During those early years of recovery, I had a short-lived relationship with a drug dealer, a long-distance relationship for several months with someone I barely knew, and a 3-year marriage that ended with a prison sentence (his, not mine). Since that time, I've had unorthodox relationships with a few guys, but I have no regrets. All of them were authentic. I entered into each one with eyes wide open and learned more and more about myself.
What happened next was surprising. Almost 11 months ago to the day, I had a conversation with a friend about dating, specifically dating him. He was someone I liked and trusted, someone who I thought would be able to handle dating me. He was confident and secure, independent and creative. He was self-employed, ambitious and thought outside-the-box, not to mention, tall, dark and gorgeous. But what was interesting then was, I was talking about dating, a word I never used. Dating meant commitment, and I certainly wasn't going down that road, or so I thought.
Was I giving up on life? Was I delusional? Was I having a midlife crisis? The answer was a big NO. Seriously, I woke up one morning with the epiphany that I was ready for a mature committed relationship, and there he was. Not immediately, and certainly not like a knight in shining armor, whisking me away on his white horse to a "happily forever after" nightmare. But, he was there, steady and sure, like a rock.
Here we are, 11 months later, after making a conscious decision to date, communicating what are needs were and putting together a plan of how this would work for us. Again, being unconventional people, we don't follow the rules. However, here's where I ironically discovered my old-fashionedness.
The list looks something like this:
With all that he does for me, the very things that I thought would make me less independent, have actually just simply softened me. Opening my car door, walking street-side, holding my hand, cooking dinner for me, giving me space, taking me out on dates, wanting to be with me when life gets hard, listening to me without fixing me - doesn't take away my strength. I'm still a strong independent woman. What he does for me, complements me. In other words, it adds to my strength, it doesn't take away from it. I have grown accustomed to, and enjoy some beautiful precious old-fashioned customs and ways. I would have never known this about myself if it had not been for him.
I'm happy to report that there is light at the end of the tunnel for us, ladies - those of us badass women who do everything for ourselves, refuse the help of others and take matters into our own control. Listen up! It is okay. Better than that, it is a blessing when a warrior steps up and is honored to be a part of our lives. Let him in. I know, it'll be a challenge at first. You'll want to do things your way. Compromise a little, let him cherish you. Keep being who you are, state your boundaries and communicate at all costs. Then, watch the magic happen. We don't need to be alone, or insist on always doing everything by ourselves. There is something delicate and heart-warming in the ways he will show up and be unwavering. Take him for his word, because it is gold. Trust him completely, because he is safe. Love him for all that he is, because he is honest. Know that all he does is for you, because you are a goddess.
Enjoy the sweet little things he will do for you, because they are huge in comparison to what you've struggled with before. Here's the best part - cherish him back, just as hard and as gently as he does you. You're in for the ride of your life, trust me. And remember, it is absolutely alright to be a little old-fashioned in this day and age. Some things have stood the test of time, and they are still just as important today as they were then.
Thanks for reading.
I am living the dream, one day at a time, and sharing my experiences with you.
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