Hospital art.

My sister Clare is a choreographer. Today she and I were having dinner in the hospital cafeteria when she suddenly remembered she hadn’t yet posted her weekly offering. So we decided to go back up to Dad’s room and film it there–and I asked to be in it, since I’d always wanted to be a prop in one of her dances. You can see the finished product here. (Dad was sitting in a recliner off-camera, enjoying the silliness.)

This morning, on the drive to the hospital, I’d told Clare that I wanted to integrate this new situation (Dad’s sudden paralysis, spinal surgery, and rehabilitation to come) into my “old life” as quickly as possible. That is, I can’t wait “to go back to my art” as soon as this is “over.” Because it’s not going to be over. It’s just life. And life flings some curveball shit at you sometimes. So it means: keep writing, keep drawing, and when your dancer-sister is in town, make art with her in your father’s hospital room.

(For all of you who’ve been sending prayers and good thoughts, thank you. The surgery went very well and Dad is in great spirits.)