Been thinking a lot about paintin’, been paintin’ a lot. Have painted over everything I’ve made lately four or five or ten times. My work for SIMPATICO is at the frame shop. Lucky for me and lucky for it. I may have ruined it all. My hands are covered in paint, strange because: I didn’t have the energy to work in my studio today or write. But here I am doing both. My recent series, in preparation for SIMPATICO, I have gone down a dark path of phylos, burnt umbers, red- blacks, blue -greys, garish pinks, rusts, yellows, figures appearing at times, yelling and screaming, keeling over in pain. I’ve exhausted pieces of paper, my brain, and my body. Obsessive and detrimental; I can’t stop. Pulling out the large canvas ripped open a deep crevice inside me. From the beginning. Painting on large pieces of found wood and Masonite. Large un-stretched canvas tacked on the wall. Painting over and over them until a texture built up on the surface. Like my body. Covered in a thick callus, a chronic thickness evenly distributed on my most used parts. I am growing out of my studio and my mind. I paint obsessively. I must use extreme mindfulness techniques to remain fully present when I’m parenting. I’m very successful at it. If I feel myself slipping away, thinking thoughts like, “I could put on the T.V., give them a popsicle, and run down to my studio.” When these thoughts pop in my head I use re-direction with myself. I figure out some way to get engaged, I watch, I draw and write in my journal, or with the babies, we play playdough and play dirt in the garden. It works. I love my babies so much I don’t want to take for granted the time I have with them. In between all of this I find myself slipping away in despair when I listen to the debate and hear about shooting after shooting. The paintings gain even more importance to me; I have to express myself; PURGE my Soul. I went to the SF MOMA the other day and left questioning what I have to offer as a painter anyhow? Why I paint? What’s unique about my paintings? I do know why I paint, I can’t not paint. My paintings are only unique because I am a unique person and they come from inside me. This makes my paintings necessary to myself, my existence, which would make my painting important to my family too, because I have a healthy outlet. That’s why my paintings exist and why I want to show them, and why SIMPATICO IS.

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About Dirty Laundry Blog

Thoughts on Motherhood Through the Eyes of an Artist