I see Queen Mab hath been with you

If I told you I had a print of “Starry Night” in my apartment, you’d probably roll your eyes and shout how cliche! Yes you would, but I do have a very personal attachment to that painting. Of course, it means a lot to many people. That’s one of the defining features of great art or music or literature I guess; the ability to offer meaning and inspiration for a multitude of cultures and generations.

Starry Night was painted at 4am from Gogh’s asylum window. Sometimes in my life I have felt like I am the one locked up in an asylum. I’m not going to go into any great detail, but I am not ashamed to admit that in that past I have been diagnosed with some mental illness. I’ve had the Starry Night poster in my bedroom ever since I was a little kid. I’ve suffered from these certain mental illnesses for as long as I can remember, although I haven’t always acknowledged the hope that I gain from looking at this painting. How the painter with nothing in his life to live for could gaze out upon the world and still finding meaning. Looking at this painting upon my wall I remember how there is always beauty in the world and in life.

I’d love to hear your stories about art that you have a special connection to! :)

Wow Ally, that was reaching into your soul ! I would give you a hug for that alone. We could all do with strong arms of comfort. I dont know anyone who hasnt suffered or is in the depths of suffering some sort of Mental health issue. I see it as a sign of how sensitive & intuitive "we" are.Sometimes "we" take on board to much & it over powers us.Theres things I keep in my head that help me thru, I dont have a piece of Art that is inspirational, but what is Art but a beautiful image that evokes. Your post has made me feel as if I could float away as if of a misty morning dawn, where the light is reaching out, trying to grasp life & hold on to it.

Ally wrote:If I told you I had a print of “Starry Night” in my apartment, you’d probably roll your eyes and shout how cliche!

no I wouldn't

Ally wrote:
Yes you would,

NO I WOULDN'T!!!!  

Ally wrote: I’d love to hear your stories about art that you have a special connection to!

OK I can do that, if you promise not to argue like that anymore.... 

I've always liked pictures that told an open story. Since I was a kid I've liked to look into pictures and ask people, "What's the story behind this?"

My aunt was born and raised in the Pacific Northwest, but her work took her to California. One of the pictures she took with her to remind her of her roots was by a local artist:


Years later when I was visiting I asked her what she saw when she looked into it. She talked of the sound of the rain on the river, the fogs that roll in for days at a time, the birds that migrate and the ones that choose to tough out the winter, and the advantages of each, which was in a way a metaphor for her life.

My aunt died this winter. She never moved home. Her picture is hanging beside me now as I type. When I look into it I can hear and smell the rain. I can remember that conversation.

wow you guys. thanks for sharing your thoughts. I have had a few brushes with mentalism myself, but I try to see the funny side, its my coping mechanism, I just laugh at the fucker. I have had panic attacks since I was 10 years old and anxiety all the time. went to see a shrink when I was a kid cos I had obsessive compulsive wotsit, I dont think Teachers knew how to deal with things like that in the olden days, they thought my oddness was due to me being backward, until I was top of the class in some subjects, and then they started to get nasty because they thought I was being deliberately naughty. luckily that played itself out and I was left with full on hypochondria, basically one sneeze and I am dying, yeah its embarrassing, dont care. went to see a Group therapy thing and it helped a lot, its all childhood shit, I had a very hard and lonely childhood, bullied left right and centre, dont know whether its nature or nurture, but my instinct is to fight, thats why I am so stroppy and huffy.
I think you are brave Ally, and if you ever need to talk I am always here for you.
As for art, its a great escape, its like reading, its helped me through the dark times. this painting by Turner Always draws me to it, its the Fighting Temeraire, she was an old gun ship that had fought in Trafalgar with Nelsons fleet, she is being taken to be decommissioned and broken up in the scrap yard. I get a deep sense of loss and frailty although she is still a noble vessel to the very end. There is something ghostly about her, if she was human she would remind me of Miss Haversham.

Terry Pratchett once observed a remarkable feature about human beings- that placed in a universe of almost infinite possibilities and wonders to behold, we still managed to invent boredom.

We are not a sane species in my view- Im not sure you can be. We are in a precarious position- a living thing that lives in a universe we are capable of asking questions of, awkward questions like, 'What am I am supposed to be doing here exactly?'
And on top of that we only get to interact with our universe through our senses and a model we build up in our brain of what we think is out there.
So we end up trying to build a model of an infinitely big universe, using only electrical impulses, inside a brain you could, with a bit of a squeeze, get inside a blender.
And then we think we should be sane.
Personally I think anyone who says they are sane are showing a sure fire sign of mental illness.

As to art. There is a picture hangs on my wall directly opposite my couch.
I inherited it from my gran. Its not my favourite piece of art by a long way. Its a fairly generic city scape, with river, bridge, street cafes (its europe somewhere)- but Ive found it appeals to my story making side, I find myself wondering who the figures walking by the river are- are they mother and daughter? Sisters maybe? Where are they going? There is a building in the background that looks like it might be a court house- is their a trial going on there right at that moment? Is someone life in the balance whilst this tranquil picture is being painted? I wonder about the people sitting at the cafes? What are they talking about? About the man by the river? What is he doing? ect ect.

When I get stressed I lie on the couch I let that picture absorb me into all its potential stories. And under it all is an interwoven sense of my Gran, of her house, of where it used to hang and of all the brilliant times I had there.

Its all thats needed, one person saying out loud, with no shame or stuttering, to say.."Ive not been well & heres my story". My childhood was very simular to Figgy's, if I wasnt looked upon as a scrog or flea bag, (mum was so very poor & I had 2nd hand clothes all the time) then I was either stupid or freakish. Trouble is, its batters down your confidence & thats a scar you carry all your life. I KNOW Ive got qualities, I KNOW I could have made a better life but, that spite faerie on your shoulder reminds you not to step to far, remember who you are Azriel ! Insane people know whats going on, its the sane people who cant. In fact, I half pity people who have had a "treasured life", all plain sailing, no upsets, cocooned from the world in a bubble. I think some amount of mental fragility opens your eyes, gives you a 6th sense others might not have ? and DONT think Im being flippant here but, this is how it feels at times........>

David H wrote:I've always liked pictures that told an open story. Since I was a kid I've liked to look into pictures and ask people, "What's the story behind this?"  

My aunt was born and raised in the Pacific Northwest, but her work took her to California. One of the pictures she took with her to remind her of her roots was by a local artist:


Years later when I was visiting I asked her what she saw when she looked into it. She talked of the sound of the rain on the river, the fogs that roll in for days at a time, the birds that migrate and the ones that choose to tough out the winter, and the advantages of each, which was in a way a metaphor for her life.

My aunt died this winter. She never moved home. Her picture is hanging beside me now as I type. When I look into it I can hear and smell the rain.  I can remember that conversation.

Thanks for sharing this with me. I've read it multiple times on multiple occasions but sometimes I struggle to think of a response. But that was the kind of example I was thinking about.

You're welcome Ally. I'm glad my story resonated with you. One never knows with personal stories....

For the record I enjoyed all of your replies! It was something I had been thinking about for a long time.

Ally, Figgy, Azriel - all braver than I am. Been a bit of a tortured soul myself when young because of on account of my twin, I talk kinda goofy. Couldn't stand up in front of people to talk without getting the severe shakes. It wasn't until I went to a performing arts high school where people were interested in ME and seemed to ignore the fact I was strange (hell, we were all artists) that I busted out of my shell.

Nobody would call me shy since then. Just took the realization that some people could connect to cure me. But I'm still not much of a talker...and if I ever hear a recording of myself I go into a funk for about half a day. I deeply admire those who can make conversation with anyone. You have to be a pretty interesting person or I can't be bothered - from my youth I still hang on to the feeling that conversation is a bit of a chore and a minefield. But the right people make me forget that. Has totally bollixed my dating life though.

And yet people admire my public speaking. Comes 100% from being a teacher: true trial by fire. I recommend it to anyone, after the first year of teaching you'll never fear public speaking again.

Being social is just REALLY REALLY stressful!

I am rubbish with groups of people and parties, I am a bit of a wallflower, I run off and hide in the garden, or go to bed and read while others are being social downstairs. Its ok if its one to one and the person gets me, but I cant do small talk, its excruciating. I wish I could do small talk and networking and all that stuff, I wish I could shmooze and flow, and wow people with my witty banter. The only time I have been part of a Group of friends is about 4 times in my life, and luckily fellow weirdos, but fellow weirdos are surprisingly hard to find, its kismet, and when you do find them its bliss.

strangers are sooooo the worst

Dust Bowl Troubadour
“I hate a song that makes you think that you are not any good. I hate a song that makes you think that you are just born to lose. Bound to lose. No good to nobody. No good for nothing. Because you are too old or too young or too fat or too slim or too ugly or too this or too that. Songs that run you down or poke fun at you on account of your bad luck or hard travelling. I am out to fight those songs to my very last breath of air and my last drop of blood. I am out to sing songs that will prove to you that this is your world and that if it has hit you pretty hard and knocked you for a dozen loops, no matter what color, what size you are, how you are built, I am out to sing the songs that make you take pride in yourself and in your work. And the songs that I sing are made up for the most part by all sorts of folks just about like you. I could hire out to the other side, the big money side, and get several dollars every week just to quit singing my own kind of songs and to sing the kind that knock you down still farther and the ones that poke fun at you even more and the ones that make you think that you've not got any sense at all. But I decided a long time ago that I'd starve to death before I'd sing any such songs as that. The radio waves and your movies and your jukeboxes and your songbooks are already loaded down and running over with such no good songs as that anyhow.”

― Woody Guthrie

i like annie sexton

The Starry Night

Mrs Figg wrote:Dust Bowl Troubadour
“I hate a song that makes you think that you are not any good. I hate a song that makes you think that you are just born to lose. Bound to lose. No good to nobody. No good for nothing. Because you are too old or too young or too fat or too slim or too ugly or too this or too that. Songs that run you down or poke fun at you on account of your bad luck or hard travelling. I am out to fight those songs to my very last breath of air and my last drop of blood. I am out to sing songs that will prove to you that this is your world and that if it has hit you pretty hard and knocked you for a dozen loops, no matter what color, what size you are, how you are built, I am out to sing the songs that make you take pride in yourself and in your work. And the songs that I sing are made up for the most part by all sorts of folks just about like you. I could hire out to the other side, the big money side, and get several dollars every week just to quit singing my own kind of songs and to sing the kind that knock you down still farther and the ones that poke fun at you even more and the ones that make you think that you've not got any sense at all. But I decided a long time ago that I'd starve to death before I'd sing any such songs as that. The radio waves and your movies and your jukeboxes and your songbooks are already loaded down and running over with such no good songs as that anyhow.”

― Woody Guthrie

Woody was a moral giant when it came to his music, (though his private life kind of sucked. Funny how that works sometimes..)
Cheers to Woody and Death to Fascists! 

I cannot love all of you more. I did not know I was crazy until just a few years ago when I realized that people as a rule did not have the terrors I have and do not get abused by both the people that stole me, yes, but that stays there, and then abused and terrorized me for years. I stayed because they did that to their son, my beloved brother Nelson who sadly was probably murdered for his money by strangers that accosted him while he was recuperating from the death of his beloved wife.
Strangely, people don't seem to notice and come to me for comfort and advise I try to love them and build a little box for them behind the stove( just mentally though, how I watched my auntie's little pups in the warmth behind the stove)
That is why I turned down and continue to do so every proposal of marriage.
Ever since my guy died and I realized how different I am , I had to say no thank you. I am too damaged and would not put that on anyone.
You are all so brave and good and wonderful. Sometimes when I feel so broken for little Hasia or miss my brother, I come here and talk to Petty. He never makes me feel like I am different, strange and crazy with my panic attacks my general anxiety and not liking adults that much.

I try to love them and build a little box for them behind the stove( just mentally though, how I watched my auntie's little pups in the warmth behind the stove) - leelee

Thats a wonderful thing and a wonderful image leelee.

Give my regards to little Hasia, I hope she is having a good summer.

The good folk of Forumshire never fail to fascinate me.

Mrs Figg wrote:I am rubbish with groups of people and parties, I am a bit of a wallflower, I run off and hide in the garden, or go to bed and read while others are being social downstairs. Its ok if its one to one and the person gets me, but I cant do small talk, its excruciating. I wish I could do small talk and networking and all that stuff, I wish I could shmooze and flow, and wow people with my witty banter. The only time I have been part of a Group of friends is about 4 times in my life, and luckily fellow weirdos, but fellow weirdos are surprisingly hard to find, its kismet, and when you do find them its bliss.

Sounds like me, apart from the witty banter bit. Funny. A lot of things you have said remind me of myself.
Sad music brings tears to my eyes, i like happy music because i feel happy when i here it.

My happy music



If this doesn't make you happy then your already dead.

More happy music.

*pukes*