Baby Tina and Reggie in San Diego 2007
I was a young, 20 something baby Tina in 2007, not even brave enough to call myself an artist, when I moved to San Diego, California to, I don’t know, figure “it” out. I had been slowly burning out in New York City after graduating from Sarah Lawrence College, working as the first employee to a now recently disgraced art advisor to east coast elites (more on that later, maybe). I was coming to grips with the anxiety and sadness I struggled with after terminating a pregnancy and then almost immediately being dumped from that six year relationship. I was both physically and emotionally displaced, SO lost and very much operating on impulse. I headed West. No money, no car. I had a bicycle, a shitty, heavy lap top that might as well have been considered a desktop and a fantastic Weiner dog sidekick named Reggie then just a puppy. At the time, cell phones were for actually carrying voice conversations, not much else. Maybe some minor texting that often involved beeper codes. No cameras. No touchscreens. No apps. No profiles. No endless scrolling. Just time.
I think that space that is now very occupied, much to our denial, by devices allowed for introspection, daydreaming even. In hind sight, that quiet was very lonely but authentic and necessary. That quiet helped me recalibrate to the changes I had to come to terms with. I crave that space now but for very different reasons. I am nostalgic for that intangible space where my mind would just float with awareness, guiltless, and void of being uncontrollably pulled to a screen. I have to admit though, as the ever lover of contradiction, during this time, I started a short-lived blog that is still somewhere out in the internet. A short, frozen archive of young Tina, flexing her memoir skills and documenting her way through the everyday yet in the midst of aimless flux. I think I posted about growing tomatoes; the bad mixed media drawings I made that were in the first group show I ever exhibited in at the art supply store I worked for on Highway 1 in Encinitas; a Radiohead concert; Reggie getting sick and then recovering; moving to San Francisco and falling in love with the city as soon as I drove across the Bay bridge for the first time. It was cute. The blog started to collect dust when I started grad school at the San Francisco Art Institute, rest in peace.
Almost twenty years later, I find myself back to reconsidering this blog idea and practice. Perhaps out of desperation for alternatives. Or maybe to feel a little punk? Our relationship to technology has changed drastically since those early Tina days. Phones aren’t just phones, they are everything to us. Wallets, calendars, cameras, they tell us when we get our period, when our bills are due, how to get to places, where the dog is, monitor our steps, they translate, fuck, what don’t they do for us? Like many who are disillusioned with this dependency to our phones, I’m really trying to break up with most social media as a way to help mitigate what feels like a low key addiction that has been normalized. I’ve resolved to focusing on this little real-estate called my website, where I can control my narrative but still continue to connect, share and exchange ON MY TERMS. It’s a long winded experiment. I think we are at a point of reckoning about so much that seems intrinsic to contemporary culture and how it all ties to our health and livelihood. Nothing feels low stakes anymore and everything feels vulnerable. Too many connections are dependent on likes and stories. I’m old enough to know that’s just not substance but I don’t want to break up with all of it either because some of these vices have very much served me and my career as a creative. Addict excuses? No se…. Tricky right?
One of the gifts I received from Amy, Japanese Otagiri mug from Japan still in rotation in my mug collection.
I have been an avid journal and letter writer since I can remember and I have the bookshelf to prove it. As a child, my mom managed Julio Iglesia’s fan club when she was his secretary for 8 years. His fans would send me letters and toys from all over the world so they can leverage VIP passes from my mom. I actually developed penpals from it that were amazing. My first was Amy, in Korea.
It was the start of a life long practice, writing. In undergrad, I had my nose buried in Jose Marti, Reinaldo Arenas, Fanny Burney and Mary Wollenstonecraft journals and realized, memoirs, whether in English or Spanish, were just my absolute jam. Still are.
The blog was an experiment in connecting in a then new way but it was also familiar. It was far from addictive or vain. Nor was it an attempt to sell anything. It didn’t really last long as a discipline but it was my first reach at archiving and connecting publicly. It felt like a way to potentially open the sketchbook/journal practice to people I cared about who took the time to seek out what I had to share. It felt intimate, of low stakes and vulnerable in just the right way. Few people read it and that was perfect. They were the ones I wanted to know where I was and why. I was seeking but not lost. The blog was evidence.
Now in my mid forties, living in the coastal South, partnered in the healthiest relationship I’ve ever been in, a dog mom of two crazy pittie rescues (Kiki & Indy) and proud to say I have over a decade of being a practicing and exhibiting artist with a fairly strong grip on anxiety and self care, life is way slower and very precious. I’m very protective of my time and energy. The college students I had the privilege of working with recently have (perhaps unknowingly) really helped me consider how I can revisit old ways of working that seem to deserve another shot. I’m talking about both the art babies and the seniors citizens who have returned to being creatives with just as much tenacity as the young ones. Drawing. Painting. Writing. Making books. The BLOG? Coming back to supportive basics. Sharing as an exploration, not for the sake of your “brand” or a sale, or the gram or the CV but as witness in reaching for the quiet sharing & experimentation I once knew was fruitful and necessary. So retro right?
I’m really trying to put my phone down more and take a step back to recalibrate but I’m inviting you to hang out with me in it, albeit, yes, on a screen but different? At least I hope.
Thanks for reading my Blah, Blah, Blah. XO, Tina