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.