That was a quote by the artist Maria Martins in describing her Sculpture, "The Impossible III". I recently discovered Martins had an affair with artist Marcel Duchamp in 1946, which may have served as inspiration.
The piece had always resonated with me, ever since I saw it at MOMA many years ago. To me, it spoke of struggle, of duality, and the never ending war of the sexes. I have always been confused about sex, Both internal/conceptual conflicts of masculine/feminine gender associations or external/physical/social co-existing with the opposite sex.
I feel that no matter how much we may long for that sort of connection, it is impossible for conflict to not exist. We frame our discussion based on prior experiences. We reach out with arms wide open, yet in are hands are the bags of yesterday. It is a vicious, violent cycle, a self-defeating prophecy of detachment, mistrust, selfishness.
I, unfortunately, am no stranger to this way of thinking. Like some (most?) I have made/am making/will probably continue to make mistakes when it comes to women.
As a child, I was an emotional wreck. I would be bawling my eyes out one minute and then lashing out violently the next. I was a fighter....and not a very good one. Growing up without a father, and an emotionally withdrawn mother, has made me somewhat of an powderkeg. No, that implies to much violence, more like a chameleon. I am not proud of this.
In elementary school (3rd grade), i professed to my crush how i felt and choked her when she rebuked me. Was put into remedial classes (although I was a top performer and it was an ESL class) and counseling .
In Junior high, I gave a love letter right before graduation to another, and watched as she laughed, then her friends laughed. I am sure at one point a teacher laughed.
In High School, I was emotionally obtuse and oblivious, and missed out on what could have been really good things.
My first girlfriend was long distance, and cheated on me.
The Second suspected me of cheating and the Third (the "ex") wouldn't sleep with me until I stopped seeing the previous two. ......... 10 years ago was a fairly dark period in my life.........
Funny story about the "ex", not many men can say they drove the love of their life (supposedly) into the arms of another woman (and women, permanently).
I have "dated" off and on since then, but never wholeheartedly. I was always guarded, or making mountains out of molehills, afraid to be vulnerable. I try so hard to be understanding and compassionate, and open-minded, and yet I am afraid no one will ever "get" me.
So I close off emotionally, and opt for a more level-headed, hyper-rational approach.
I find that this doesn't work so well either. Trying to both form a connection, but keep my distance at the same time; its as violent and destructive as "The Impossible III". In putting so much effort in "not hurting people", I wind up doing exactly that.
I have become my father.
Even now, I dont even know why I write this. Is it a cry for attention? for help? Is it some sort of Catharsis that once i hit submit will absolve me of my sins? Once again, I do not have an answer and dont want to think of the consequences.
What is the answer? Love? could it be that simple?
What does that mean to someone who no longer knows what that is? Did he ever? How does one overcome the fear, the guilt, the shame?
I like to think I am a rather responsible, functional, adult. But underneath the surface, I am still a lost little boy, crying in the corner when no one pays him any attention, and pushing them away once they do.
