Oh Boy

Becoming a mom completely halted my practice. I created 2 paintings in 7 years. No drawings. It was as if my creative self was 100% occupied with figuring out how to create healthy humans. And then I wanted to make my husband a birthday gift, something special. And I did a portrait of him and our oldest as a baby looking out into the ocean. Something cracked open with that piece. Something irrepressible.

I find the older I get the closer I come to returning to my youth in terms of authenticity and simple expression. The message may be complex but it is clearly a message from my consciousness to the world. Allowing the hollow bone to funnel. It is a frightening thing to recognize how far down you can stuff your truth in the spirit of not causing a fuss. Simply because I haven’t spoken out I am suspect when I do find my voice. Not really sure what this rambling is for other than another outlet for the nameless whisp. I’m awful tired and yet so content.

I find now my children inspire me daily to create. I am stitching a roadmap.

New Year Same Crazy

Career, Trajectory. Discipline. Practice.

They all feel so far away from play to me. So heavy and serious and complicated. I have been chastised for daring to say this aloud. Amateur. Unprofessional. The innuendoes are enough to wash away the staunchest self-promoter. Honestly, though, it’s my truth. If I hear the word ‘Grind’ one more time in regard to how I approach my art I may just grind to a halt.

Perhaps creating in a moss clogged vacuum is jusr a fantasy world but who creates fantasy worlds? ARTISTS! Yes, I am not the first creative to wring my dirty hands at the state of practical affairs but truly this cash game is out of control. I need to create before I can market and manage and sell myself. All of those things are not authentically me, and to create GOOD work I need to be me. My head is in the game, it’s just in MY game.

Play is where the good lessons happen. So please, don’t ask me about my work. Ask me about my play.

Reworking

I’ve been revisiting some old pieces and working back into them, pulling color and shape. There is so much in surviving the last few years that has leant itself to rework… viewpoints, definitions of normal and reality, my why’s. In any time of cleansing, we are offered a chance to prune and remold and I am taking my turn.

On the rehashing block is a landscape previously published as a lit magazine cover. I like the idea of a visual maturation being catalogued, a snapshot of evolution. The deliberate reconfiguration of a previously finished piece is a liberation for me during a time of limited control.

detail of WIP