BROKEN OPEN - CURATING. ( Where there is an accomplice/There is also a potential witness!)

BROKEN OPEN!
Where there is an accomplice!

There is also a potential witness!

I originally published this blog before it was ready! Therefore, much may not of made sense to the twenty odd people or more, who would of initially accessed it. The original was more like a free flow journal expression, rather than a blog!

Referring to my work as written images. Once faced with a set of difficult circumstances not entirely of own making, which led me to enjoy my solitude for a considerable amount of time. I used a form of creative communication as a way of overcoming emotional, and psychological trauma, and violence. 

I found it alleviated emotional stress, as I created poetry, that changed the intensity and impact of experiences, eventually being able to paint out the visual affects, deepened the sense of expression and relief.

Curating!
Orange Surroundings Collection.
Inspiration;
Where there is an accomplice!

There is also a potential witness!

Curating is known as the process of gathering objects together for presentation, or exhibition. 

In publishing this blog before it was ready, withdrawing to draft, sitting with it again, curating more. 

I realised how curating could also be an analogy for parts of a personal experience. Something I was finding it difficult to heal from, and create effective changes within, to stop it from hurting me, and to make the problem stop. That is because the experience was not entirely of my own making. In all fairness it would need the person inflicting the problem, to take their responsibility for their own actions, to stop things from happening. But I could not rely on that ever happening. I am the only one responsible for my life, and how I respond. 


Though an unusual comparison to make, perhaps. The curating of objects for exhibition took on a different meaning, when returning home one day, not long after moving house some years ago, I found objects outside my front door, which were identical to my own belongings, that I did not forget I left there, or drop! 

From then on my life entered an era of trophy stalking. 

(I had been stalked before years earlier,  and had witnessed stalking years before spanning back to the early 70's, early childhood.)

This particular stalking pattern was to go on and develop into what I could only term, and describe to others as; 

Watch, Copy, Groom, Create, Predict!

Witnessing this pattern of stalking, tearing up almost every area of my life.  The grooming seem to further relate to curating, only it referred to the gathering of people. 

Also, within the process of grooming, or getting people on side. I came to realise what I was actually witnessing, was the recruiting of accomplices, and at the same time,  the creating of potential witnesses. 

It was about attempts of control. Trying to use one person, to control many! 

I met and spoke to about four or five people initially on the estate prior to moving in.

A situation had arisen after brief encounters. I tried to approach the relevant official person with absolutely no malicious intent toward anyone. My only motive was to prevent the situation from escalating.

Initially dealt with cordially, having been advised my concerns will be dealt with discreetly. While that was true, it was the reaction of at least one, if not two of the people I met that made it all become, and continue to be something more than it had to be. If my concern was wrongly placed, I could have easily been told and that would of been the end of it. 

But something else lurked beneath, and was to continue to transpire. 

Within initial introductions to others, there was made mention of a troublesome character in the vicinity. Someone, I was never to be aware of meeting. The whole area I had moved into was a place of well established patterns.

My own private response at the time, frustrated by the constant antics, was to  be able to just completely let rip, formulating intense built up feelings, constant observations into two poems created years apart, which served as intense emotional release.

Below; 
Condensing years of life experience into Poetry.

Location; 
First Estate New Landlord.

Reference; 
Witnessing a grooming campaign against me "every life you take", refers to each person taken in by being grooming.

*

A BROKEN MAN 

Trying the perfect crime.

With every life you take.

You become more empty inside.

The one thing you would most hate is to be discovered as a lie.

You push and force your way into people and organizations lives, claiming your place like a king of a fallen and corrupt tribe.

Your head is tense and repetitive, as you convince yourself of your own lies, if people really knew the harrowing pain you feel inside, then they would realize your obsessive need to pull the wool over their eyes.

Do you even realize where your own torment lies?

Can you even comprehend the human right of those you target with your lies?

You must be out of options to kill out right, to many witnesses and evidence left behind. So, why not target a person’s mind? That way you crack them up, and they commit suicide. It is almost the perfect crime!

You mock and jeer feel like a hero, drink your victims fear, you believe your victim’s death is near. You recruit countless people to help you commit the perfect crime, the strength in numbers is in fact full of cowards.

You have conquered and scored with men and women in hoards, yet you feel as empty as an open space, your life is an endless negative race.

Your feelings are hollow because of the falsehood you embrace, if all those you hold in your gaze knew the real trauma you face. Demented by politics and race.

Call names create a scene, just to hide how small you truly feel.  Seeing the demons you have within, totally unaware of the depth of your bottomless condition. You get away with it because no one dear match your manipulation.

It is beyond psychotic and so below spiritual light, it holds a darkness beyond visual sight, it will take a force of great might, a universal meteorite, to show those you have convinced with your malicious need for attention and hype.

Yet even you can find a better life, it maybe difficult because darkness truly does have you hypnotized.

You can keep going after and individuals mind, predicting and wining, they say the ego can never be beaten.

You can have every fight, jeer and mock until morning light.

Claim your fame, in true narcissistic glory.

I am so grateful that I can understand your story.

*

Not a lot of change happens without understanding! 

Processing frustration by working from gut instinct, to higher intuition. 

The above poem was published for some years on an online creative writing space.

*

Creating the painting!

*

It was just old paper!

I was sitting on the floor!

I needed to do this!

It had happened before!

That chilling feeling!

The locked and opened door!

*

 I felt broken open more than ever before!

*

Below;

Broken Open

Location; First Estate

       

                                                       www.saatchiart.com/LaviniaDeAyr

I literally did sit on the floor one evening, and sketch the focal point of a gender less being, with an exploding energetic field. There was no fear or resistance as described in my first blog, while starting or finishing this painting, it all seem to flow almost automatically.

*

Stalked Before!

Not long after witnessing someone surviving assault from a stalking/harassment situation, which was taken to court, and had been carried out by neighbours. Which had taken place some years earlier, not to far from where I was stalked for a second time, after moving home!

First time I was directly affected by stalking, it was an ex, date situation.

His sticking point; Trying to recover from the moment the dating abruptly ended. The man had lost control. He was found out, and he could not get that moment back. The truth was out.  

Again, things blew up into something it need not of been! Fortunately, one attack was witnessed by a guest (who did not stick around to help defend)but was a witness all the same, and by my child.  A very supportive neighbour at the time, who advised me to get it acknowledged in law by a solicitor. I was deeply fortunate to find a very supportive solicitor. 

At that time it was only a one man campaign, his influence did not span out into the wider community, a fortune I was to not experience again! 

The solicitor supported me completely by sending letters to him. It did not stop him. It did create a difficulty in his ability to attack, creating longer periods between  each of his appearances. As a result he began employing other methods, one of which was the employing of children to deliver flowers, and music to my flat. Taking advantage of the fact, at that time as a mother, I was more likely to open the door to a child. 

Eventually, I was the one who had to move to bring an end to the situation. Or what I thought would be an end.

I took it all in my stride, doing my best to move on. I had about a ten year reprieve before it all started again. 

This next poem is written in confrontational style, as I imagine the stalker in front of me, full of bravado about what I supposedly do not realise.

It is not advisable to use confrontation with a stalker. That is if you know who the stalker is, it is not impossible not to know!

In the experience above when I was stalked directly for the first time by an ex date, I used to retaliate to his attacks, not knowing any better, in doing so, it encouraged him toward attempting violence! 

*

Condensed via Poetry!

Years later!

It would stand to reason in moving from the original estate the stalking had started on for the second time, that it would put an end to the problem. Instead below is how I let rip again about a year after moving onto the second estate, and the problem had escalated, even though I never made the mistake of introducing myself to anyone, and tried to keep myself very much to myself, this is how creatively release it all...... 

......... THE TORMENTED QUEST!

In your torment you break into my flat to change things.

You look for information, then you relay it threw to someone to offend.

You use women and children, to disguise your missions.

Torture by the inability to cope with pain.

So you try again and again.

What was meant to be a joke, or a game!

Is your nemesis!

In the fame you have gained.

You still have not found the feeling of control.

Which is your aim, so you can’t let go.

You want to be stopped.

In fact, you wish for me to stop you.

For me to take responsibility for you.

Why?

You have chosen this reaction to live through.

To me, you were a brief encounter.

Which means I do not really know you.

Even you will never know you.

If you refuse to let your torment teach you!

*

Blame only loves everlasting pain.

Shame revels in the torment.

The mind recreating every refrain.

Of pleasurable torment and pain.

Together they hold on till you will never see the light of day.

Hate and revenge serves as a constant memory to that which is without foundation, substance, and good content.

It fuels and fills you, till you are seen as the biggest fool.

*

Still the mind will convince you that none of this is about you.

It will keep you believing you are only fooling the victim.

The thrill of knowing you see me outside walking.

While you go in my bedroom touching, changing and using things.

Memorizing all the different clothes I have.

Making easy predictions.

The thrill of it has long been your sickness.

I lived with being blamed for allowing it!

*

I know you are sick!

You are so tormented you can’t even stop it.

You betray, hate, laugh and jeer.

I know you have been in here, as I am walking outside.

With that gloat, and that stare.

There is nothing private about my life, so long as you are still anonymously out there, playing twin pairs.

The tormented glare that is used.

That manipulates life to look like despair!

*

There's been a deliberate choice of people.

Deliberate patterns of acting things out.

Serving as great distractions.

Those looks, and cheers of glory.

When you have accurately predicted.

Err..Yep!

A thousand alibi's with a million places to hide.

An entire distraction racket kept under wraps and pride.

Timing.

Coinciding.

*

Though you have attached to me!

I know that you know your time will soon end!

Because time changes everything!

People get wise!

For this to be what you bring to me, as you attach to my life, means  somewhere in your own life, you have to have believed a mess.

You even tried to make it look like protection.

Now it is turning on you like a prime witness!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*

Being on the receiving end of someone else’s obsessional illness.

Consumes a lot of life time!

If you are fortunate to survive!

*

In loving memory of those who did not make it.

Fallen yet arisen.

*

Natural Flowism.

FROM THE WALKS/CREATING MY OWN SAATCHI

From

The

Walks!

Huffing and puffing past flowing streams,  running under pathways, and through the green, that surround trees.

Twitching branches, and rustling autumn leaves, create Zen sounds with natural ease.

Skies which frame each time of day, like clocks sending   messages of constant change.

Reaching for the sun, as moon phases fade away each day.

Freedom of daylight, parallels with the mystery of the night.

FOR MY OWN HEALING

CREATING MY SAATCHI!

With poetry being the beginning of almost all I create, and free flow journal writing being a process of release in life, art emerged as an extension both.

Deciding to negotiate the mountains of fear, barriers of lack of self-confidence, and self-esteem, to share my creative work, was my first big step into the unknown.

(Amazing faith, how sweet the brush…)

Initially, I did not want to acknowledge the truth behind my creative works. As far as I could see combining poetry as part of the explanation for the art, was not very commercial or on trend. But it was my truth, it helped me negotiate where I was at in life, it was, and is my therapy.

My truth was, I was being affected by stalking behaviours, “someone else’s dis-ease”. I was living in a situation unwanted, and being blamed for circumstances not entirely of my own making, which started once I moved to a new landlord, and escalated to affect my job, and impacted negatively on my health for a while. 

Feeling trapped, yet trying to make the best of life.  My creativity allowed me space to let go, and gave strength to the ability to try and move on in a new direction, as difficult as it is with someone attaching to your life, doing all they can do, to disrupt everything you do.

I wanted to create beautiful desirable arty fashionable things, but my truth refused to allow that to emerge, in the form I imagined.

As I touched the canvas and mixed colours, what emerged once I started painting, was my emotions, and surrounding influences.

What came out was a blend of poetry and art, and a few one off statement design pieces.  

Not highly fashionable on trend products with mass appeal.

I felt powerless to stop what was affecting my life, and in turn my creativity.  Whilst I battled to do everything I could, to try and take my hundred percent responsibility for my reaction to my experience, even trying to raise awareness among others, for the good of everybody in involved, as directed by guidelines within the law, regarding the stalking behaviours. 

Creatively only the truth of how I felt would emerge through my work.

I created 10 small canvases. My first intended for public view collection. Some of which today, are curated into small collection called Amazing Faith  based at; www.saatchiart.com/LaviniaDeAyr.

A mixture of art and design flowed into the collections. 

With no real technique, or formal training with paint. I found there was a natural flow within the movement of the brush regardless of its size or texture, nothing seem to fail, nothing appeared to be a mistake, even though I had to push past a crippling energy of resistance and fear whilst in the process of creating, something else seem to be at work, 
A freedom.
A strength.
An almost bestowed ability, and if anything was being asked of me as I painted or sketched often combining both, was that  I let go and let the truth be, regardless of how it emerged, or whatever emerged, no matter what it portrayed, or betrayed about me, I was to let it be!  There was something much bigger going on. Something, I was to let flow through me, and not try to control.

However, my first attempt at creating an art space at Saatchi was personally disheartening. Even though the process of letting go always got its way, I still could not fully understand what was being asked of me! I was still processing the realisation of the truth that my art was expressing, rather than the fashion I would have preferred it to be!

I had little understanding about the vision needed for online business at the time I first attempted to join the Saatchi community, let alone anything about the world of art,  the collectors, or the art dealers.

Personally, I became weakened due to my personal experience. I struggled to figure out how to best promote myself, at times to oppressed to even recognise what I could do, I could not devise a marketing plan, because I had no confidence in what I had done. I felt completely misaligned with myself, distracted by my external environment. I became ashamed of my work and took down my images, leaving poetry scattered where collections and images should have been combined!

In the meantime despite resistance, I came to accept art tells the truth regardless, it portrays and betrays even if it is not explained. I accepted myself creatively as a creator of written images.  

Part of my acceptance though filled with resistance, was to heal and speak out about my experiences of stalking behaviours, and other abuse experienced consciously, because it would emerge sub consciously anyway.

The readable part of art referred to may well be in the decisions made by the artist, in the choice to use, or not use composition, as well as in the editing process. What helped me further come to this acceptance was remembering what I had read for my own healing,  to help me become a better parent.  Which were books written by psychotherapist/psychologists, who often used the technique of asking children exposed to abuse and trauma to draw, because within the images a child would draw, would unwittingly emerge the details of the experience they possibly could not verbally explain. 

Abuse can leave children unable to speak of their experience. As part of a child's survival they may automatically suppress what happens to them, therefore using art can become a form of communicating in silence.

Art is so much a part of society, cataloguing history, experience, and creating space for people to feel free enough to live more naturally. For me explaining the truth about the content of my art with poetry, turned out to be the right decision for me, even though daunting. 

Second attempt at placing my art on Saatchi has been much more successful. As part of the process of uploading to Saatchi the option for creating collections introduced me to the process, and power of curating, allowing me to say exactly what I wanted to say. This has, and continues to create so many positive changes in my life, personally and professionally. I have been able to regain strength, and continue to let go and continue to change my reaction to the part of my life affected by someone else’s disease, even though I cannot stop them!

I have heard it said that “money makes the world go round” I have observed, and I am the benefactor of, people pursuing what they love, by doing so, creating and sharing wealth, that in turn provides free opportunities, for others to find their own freedom of being!

Natural Flowism.