After months of burning the candle at both ends, my body is
screaming at me to stop. I was
moderating a panel not that long ago and I was teasing myself over my
discomfort saying, "This is what you get for not being
moderate." Anyhow, long story
short after doing two biennales back to back – the Bonavista Biennale and the
Canadian Craft Biennial– teaching at a writers' residency, curating an
exhibition, writing assorted articles and sandwiching in music events, dancing
and a little out of province visit with family, I am trying to catch up on the
mundane paperwork associated with being a self employed writer and
curator. Those tasks are things
like invoicing, bill collecting and updating your resume. But it turns out, the most overdue item
on my list was my own medical appointments.
I have the dubious habit of trying to power through things,
ignoring discomfort until after a deadline has been met. However, there is always a dangerous
turning point where discomfort turns into pain you cannot ignore–like tendonitis
that morphs into tendonopoly.
Sadly, I have discovered tendonopoly is not a board
game. For me, it means that my
foot and calf has been taped up since the start of October. Several of my favourite comforts are
gone for the foreseeable future, like baths, hiking and swing dancing. I try and practice gratitude and the
exercises given by my physiotherapist.
So, in the meantime I will read more–like the catalogue for
the craft biennial, which is a lavish 148 pages. (I contributed an essay on materiality in it.) I have just finished The Matisse
Stories by A.S. Byatt and am currently reading Bridget Canning's The Greatest
Hits of Wanda Jaynes. I am also watching
the mailbox for my copy of a new book published by Routledge that I contributed
a chapter to on curatorial strategies.