Through the drawings, some things are starting to make sense.  Until I moved to NYC in 2004, the work I was making was very slow and labor-intensive.  I had the luxury of time and could engage really, really deeply in repeating a set of processes for as long as it took.

Liz Sweibel, 1998, Threshold

Liz Sweibel, 1998, Without

I have much less time now, but still need that quality of experience.  I've found ways on and off these last years - the tiny sewn pieces and collages are examples.

Liz Sweibel, 2005
Fragile as Glass II
2 1/2" x 2 5/8" x 1/2"

Liz Sweibel, 2007
Interior 16
1 7/8 x 1 7/8"

And I've lost more than time - my Queens studio, my sense of visibility in the art community, my financial net.  (As if on cue, Joe Cocker just came on with A Little Help from My Friends, the anthem of my ex-husband's all-friends band, with Jack singing lead.  He'd have a big bottle of Absolut in his pocket - "talent juice" as he called it, but he didn't need it.  We'd all wait for that yell.  My ex, Chuck, would be on drums or guitar.  It was an unbelievable amount of talent in one garage, basement, or yard.  Band parties were some of my happiest times in those years.  I still miss them.  But I digress.)  Of course, I have also gained much.

So:  working at home is having me find ways to get that quality of engagement without much time or space AND without being able to leave much stuff out given the disrespect my two cats will inevitably show.  It seems I'm leading up to delivering what I thought was an epiphany but is not even news or new, but another reconfiguration of what I do, to meet new times.  Here are two drawings from a new series:

Liz Sweibel, 2010
4 x 4 3/8"

Liz Sweibel, 2010
4 5/8 x 4"

Even when it feels so different (as the above explanation to get to an old point proves), it's the same.  And it is different, but it is the same.  And the same is good, in the sense that it makes it my work.  But different.