Dig In
“Someday I'll be a weather-beaten skull resting on a grass pillow, serenaded by a stray bird or two. Kings and commoners end up the same, no more enduring than last night's dream.” (Ryokan:1758-1831, Japanese Zen Buddhist monk)
These paintings are my personal conversation with death and grief. Honor and freedom reside in being offered crushing grief. When it is our turn to process great loss we are afforded true ownership of our very own, private process. Dig in to it, sleep on it, talk it through, drink it away, laugh it off, hold it up to the light, burn it, spit at it, cherish it, antagonize it, let it go, clutch it near your chest, outrun it, interrogate it, outsmart it, remember it, forget it, toss it to the stars, bury it in garden debris, keep it, guild it, forgive it, fuck it, release it, rinse, repeat.
Each of these paintings represents a day in the process of grief. Memories of specific places, tiny excerpts of previously forgotten conversations with those who have left, regrets, hopes, moments of clarity and areas of confusion. Days of rolling a boulder up a hill, days of letting that same boulder crash to the earth below. All reliably lead to the same place, freedom, finality, release.
In the words of Caddyshack’s Carl Spackler as spoken to the Dalai Lama…
And I say, “Hey, Lama, hey, how about a little something, you know, for the effort, you know.” And the Dalai Lama replies, “Oh, uh, there won’t be any money, but when you die, on your deathbed, you will receive total consciousness.” So I got that goin’ for me, which is nice.
Diane Kingzett
 July 2020