Sepia dried flowers and aircraft hangers

Dried Flowers, lavender, buttercup, violet, brown velvet, and orange. They are flowers Fiona and I collected from the flowering plants of winter. She reminded me this morning they were hers too.

“Don’t touch anything in my closet” I said to Fiona.

“Don’t touch my dried flowers” I said.

“They’re ours mommy” Fiona said.

She was correct, we gathered them together and put them between paper and cardboard. We wrapped two rubber bands around the cardboard and paper and left them for a couple months. I didn’t think they would work because we put the flowers in fat and still juicy. Even the thick stems went in between the paper.

I’m working in my studio today. In  the morning Jack, Fiona, and I went to a birthday party. It was over the bridge and in a loud place and we were late. All three of us, Jack, Fiona, and me had breakdowns and had to get out of the city. We all wanted to go home. I don’t like large trampoline parks very much. They are loud and chaotic. But I hope I haven’t influenced Jack and Fiona to feel like I do.

We arrived late because of road closures and detours, and we left our house too late.

“Hurry” I said. “Take off your tennis shoes, put on your jump socks”

Fiona decided she didn’t want to jump at all, she just wanted to eat a donut. Jack was shy and held my leg. But the music was loud. It was a large, crowded, space. The building is part of an old Army airfield. Jack and I looked up into the high ceilings, both kids stuck close to me.

On the way home, I stopped at the toy store. There was a sign on the window, “Everything Must Go”. I wanted to get them something they really loved so I could work in my studio for a while.

I pulled out some pictures I’ve been working on. What’s just enough I kept asking myself. Just enough line, just enough color. I found a bottle of sepia colored ink, poured some in a small jar and added water. My works all became brown. I’ve been working so much about the subject of bodies in space and emotions and constraints. Sometimes I want drawing, sometimes washes.

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About Dirty Laundry Blog

Thoughts on Motherhood Through the Eyes of an Artist