Betty Branch catalog (6-21-23)) - Flipbook - Page 47
Retrospective
my creative mind is free to fly unimpeded — poetry — song
— and full-blown images fall into consciousness like ripened
fruit. Lapping at the edges of my conciousness has been the
awareness of a kind of reckoning — the demand for answers,
many of which I have avoided, that must come when life
and work are brought into public scrutiny with a major
retrospective.
lovely four-syllable word — rolling easy off the
tongue — implying a long distance run. It is a word
that promises elucidation, revelation, explanation,
consistency even. It is both an honor and a challenge. The
challenge being, for me, in this pre-looking back, this time
of reckoning with the past, to arrive at some understanding
of where I have been — what I have done — and the hardest
of all — why? it is one thing to be propelled by fear, rejection,
and criticism into proving oneself worthy of respect in life
— and quite another to continue on the path once the goal
is achieved. Inspiration fueled by desperation comes clear
and true and unbiased from the soul. Once a kind of stasis
is achieved and desperation is only a memory — not still felt
in the marrow of one’s bones — what then? Whence cometh
inspiration?
A
So committed I have been to the balancing act — the juggling
of the most important aspects of my life — years — pass without
close scrutiny — fewer and fewer journals that chronicle the
days of doing and being.
There were times, long ago, when I ran away — enough times
to fill my reservoir of inspiration. Fear, necessity, unexpected
beauty filled my passion to “make things” — painting, pottery,
weaving, paper-making, and later, sculpture.
Truth is always on the edge of things — not in the comfortable
center of knowing. Peripheral Vision is what I call it. Life,
experienced not in a straight line, not planned, but occasioned
by distraction — inspired not by a clearly drawn dictum, but by
the song of unseen birds far off the path. Not given to linear
thought, I am best in crisis mode — have always known this to
be true. Paradoxically, the more I pursue equilibrium, the less
inspired the result.
Edges — between the going and returning . . . between despair
and delight . . . between madness and sanity.
I have become, in stasis, without passion, and I miss it!
Although at this point in my life I am not sure I could sustain
it. Passion has been exchanged for compulsion/obsession —a
driven-ness... .
It is on the way to someplace, a physical or spiritual goal, with
eyes straight ahead, that I fall under the spell of what I perceive
out of the corner of my eyes — 30% out of the field of vision lies
an enchanted realm — where everything is possible — where
there are no boundaries — where imagination runs free!
Missing a turn, mis-reading a map, opens up the wonder of
discovery, and like Alice in Wonderland, I experience the most
curious and delightful things.
Like arriving, after a wild ride — it is comforting to be at one’s
destination, safe — but one misses the exhilaration of the ride.
I know I am easier to be with — better able to focus on others.
But I miss the passion.
Betty Branch, May 2009
Road trips hold great promise of inspiration — as attention to
driving demands my linear mind, eyes straight ahead on the
road, the moving vehicles curtailing other physical activity —
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