I moved to LA to win an Oscar and get my work up on the walls of the biggest galleries in town. Full stop. As soon as I stepped foot in this town I started chasing down that behemoth dream. Like a greyhound running after a mechanical rabbit, my focus was clear and consistent. I was writing screenplays around the clock and painting just as often. I would hang my work on any wall that would have me ( I even had a “show” at Whole Foods that only one of my friends attended. And she just happened to be grocery shopping!) and send off my scripts to any competition that I could afford to submit to at the time.
Twelve screenplays written. Twenty eight finalist placements. Every story that I have tried to tell has landed my name on one list or another. Many times more than once. Even without proper gallery representation my paintings have always sold somehow, for some kind of money. I have always made it work.
I landed in Los Angeles with BIG DREAMS. Pie in the sky. I would take the fucking top honor or bust. I have spent two decades hunting down these Big Dreams. Eating every rejection. Taking each punch to the gut as it came. I am proud of my persistence, of my unwavering faith in my work. I came here as a kid. I have grown up going after these goals. I wouldn’t trade the trials that I’ve faced and tricks I have learned for anything.
But by 2020 I was tired. Worn out, my spirit was starting to sputter and my body was ready to rest. Worried, I ran back to poetry, the first language that I ever learned. Self-publishing My Own Body Breathing - my first collection of poems - in the midst of a global pandemic made strange but good sense somehow. No gatekeeper. Just me and my words and an Amazon account. With the help of a few loving friends, I put together a small but mighty pink book.
Sweet relief! Solid ground. Poetry slows me down. It settles me into the moment. It puts the power of being present with life as it is back in my hands. Girl, give that old rusty track rabbit a break. Sit still for a bit and just Be.
The poems move me out of the maze. The poems have put me in a place that I could not have imagined even though it is the most obvious spot of them all: my own neighborhood.
Who knew?
Being Santa Monica’s first Poet Laureate has opened so many doors. This opportunity has built a bridge between me and the people, it brings me out of my studio and onto the stage. It centers me and stops the spin, the whirl of wondering what the hell to do next. Make a poem. Put it all down on the page. Forgive yourself. Forget yourself. Honor everything that you see.
This weekend’s orchestral performance of my poem POTENTIA was life changing. It’s been a rough couple of months but Orchestra Santa Monica brought the life right back into my body. Standing on that stage staring into a sold out house full of so many faces that have loved and looked after me - that have walked this road with me for so long - was an explosive experience that I still can’t fully find the words for.
I’ve got two meetings this week with Santa Monica artist collectives who have invited me to consider joining their communities, to hang my mixed media work up on their neighborhood walls. Dreaming Big may have built me, but these days dreaming small seems to make the most sense. Same amount of hustle to be sure - that doesn’t change - but a slight shift in direction. A softer focus. A brand new lens. By being right here where my feet are, my work has finally found its proper place here at home.
Here we go,
Anne