-> continued from above
There is something so vulnerable in this though, and important. The best I can do is press on as carefully as possible, with his help. It’s not an exercise in separation, rather the opposite. Looking this morning at the photos I took of my thread-drawings, where both our faces feature, I wished desperately that he’d focus his blurry, confused gaze, and look at me.
And I couldn’t do any of this if I wasn’t an artist. Through the processes of making&writing I try to create a safe unsafe space for us, father and daughter (who still&again wants to scoop him out of that hate-filled calamitous time, knowing full well there are countless daughters (and sons) wanting to extricate their parents/grandparents from…, or at least let things slumber, not ask questions lest they implicate…). The closeness to him which this tenuous bridging of time and history brings is precious. The sense of compassion I finally arrived at while writing my last post was an instant where I allowed myself to simply consider and feel for his young self, and not immediately question and quell that impulse.
Do you remember that a while ago I asked, with respect to my thread-drawings, if I was allowed beauty in this context? People have commented on the beauty of my writing and while that left me unsure how they/you perceive its substance, I wonder if this is where affection and tenderness come forth, where I rescue something from the abyss that is German history.
Well, a heartfelt thank you to all who have given me feedback! You challenge and support me and I appreciate that when communication and engagement happen here, it’s of a deep, empathic and inclusive kind.
