Her Candid Altar
Sometimes the great bones of my life feel so heavy, and all the tricks my body knows ― the opposable thumbs, the kneecaps, and the mind clicking and clicking — don’t seem enough to carry me through this world and I think: 

how I would like to have wings — blue ones — ribbons of flame. How I would like to open them, and rise.
From “Spring Azures” by Mary Oliver

ABOUT THE ARTIST

Her Candid Altar is a collection of writing and creative works by Canadian artist Rebecca Carole.
Me, trapped in a shitty Cape Breton motel room with no internet or cable in the dead of winter. Clearly, the puzzling amount of rotary phones were enough to entertain me.

Writing these bios always feels so weird. And by weird I mean embarrassing. Like who do I think I am, fucking Mark Twain or something? But hi, whoever you are. Thanks for coming. I wonder if I know you.

I started writing in my early teens to give the thoughts in my head a proper space to breathe. Things at home were messy; the person I cared about the most in the world – my rock still today – was facing a terrifying illness, and the person I wished cared about me the most in the world had me walking on permanent eggshells. Y’know, the typical joys of youth that only those living in a true Norman Rockwell painting would be unfamiliar with.

In the years since starting my first Microsoft Word doc on my very first laptop (thank you, McDonald’s cashier job circa 2010) I have amassed a sizeable archive of prose, poetry, short stories, scripts, songs, photography, short films and a little bit in between. I had planned on publishing a physical book of my work eventually, but in the wise words of the great Eckhart Tolle:

Life is now. There was never a time when your life was not now, nor will there ever be.

So here we are – here I am – right here, right now, bearing it all shamelessly to whoever wants it. Once again the human behind a blog, only this time I’d like to think I’m infusing a little more soul into it than I did back in my Tumblr days.

They say you should write what you know, but sometimes I’m not sure I know anything. So I write what I feel. And for better or worse, there has never been a shortage there. I think so long as the world is turning, and humans still inhabit it, artists will continue to create. And I’m grateful you’re here to share that with me, in whatever capacity that is.