This weeks blog post was written by mosaic artist June Martin of Moth and Twig.
Dilemma. I have multiple shows on the horizon which I need to be prepared for, but….THERE.IS.A.SPIDER.IN.MY.STUDIO! It would be more accurate to say that the mother of all spiders (let’s call her MOAS) is occupying the space that I get to Zen out in and create art. Another way to put it is that a grotesque, eight-legged creature (no creature should have that many legs, except for the octopus because, well, they’re cute despite having that many appendages) is keeping me from doing something that I love.
I need to make art but I’m being held hostage. My partner, Andrew, is at work and won’t be home for hours. He usually takes care of spiders in our home. That’s his job, besides his job as a postman that is. I’m in charge of bats and snakes. It’s a nice arrangement. He’s not a fan of bats and snakes. I, on the other hand, am fond of them. Neither have eight legs or hundreds of eyes. I don’t actually know how many eyes the average spider has, but I know it’s lots. What the hell!? Why do you need that many eyes….or eight legs for that matter?! Sorry, I digress.
As I said, Andrew is a postman so it’s not as though he can come home and take care of MOAS. Although, I think that is reasonable but I bet the US Postal Service would disagree. By now, you may be thinking, you’re a grown woman; take care of MOAS yourself. That’s logical. But my fear of MOAS, and her most likely 5000 hideous offspring, is not logical. It’s a phobia, which by definition is an irrational fear. Although, I might interject that some spiders can kill you, so is it really an irrational fear? Food for thought. Sorry, I digress.
As I said, multiple shows on the horizon, MOAS holding my studio hostage, and Andrew dutifully at work. I knew this would happen one day. Since moving to Oregon from San Francisco (apologies) a year ago, it has not escaped my attention that spiders love Portland, and seemingly, my home. I’ve learned to check my shoes before sticking my feet in them, as well as checking the tub before having a shower. Thank god my eyesight sucks and I often don’t wear my glasses because who knows how many spiders are really lurking about? BTW, having fuzzy vision has also come in handy when I walk past a mirror. It’s like having my own personal Photoshop.
Without glasses: “Damn, I don’t look so bad.”
Glasses: “Ack! Who is that?”
Sorry, I digress.
I work too many hours at my job in mental health (I know, that makes this phobia thing even more ridiculous) to let MOAS hold me hostage. I could call my son, but he lives across town and doesn’t have a car. Besides, what kind of example would I be setting? Pfffttt, who am I kidding? I confess to making him take care of the spider situation in his teen years. That makes me a bad mom. That’s a blog for another day. Mind you, in SF we didn’t have many spiders, and certainly not like MOAS.
Is MOAS a freak of nature? Did she breed? I bet she ate her mate afterwards. She looks the type. I could enlist the help of the vacuum cleaner but I doubt she’d fit. Perhaps I should embrace MOAS by creating a mosaic of her. Maybe that would cure me. Doubtful. I guess I’ll just go for a walk. MOAS:1, June: 0