Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes

Blog

  • This Is 55

    After My First Mountain  There is nothing to do except brace myself.  It’s so cold.  I’m so sick of this wind.  It isn’t just blowing—it howls, whistles, whooshes, then slaps the side of the… Read more

  • Line/ Monday Studio

    I am developing a relationship with line. I’ve been working on this for a long time. I used to be free with my use of line, I was fearless. Somewhere… Read more

  • Paranoia will destroy ya’

    “Is everybody happy now?” The crying has stopped, the bottles have been drank. It’s Monday again. The yellow finches are back. Don’t forget to fill the bird feeder. Or deposit… Read more

  • Done with the funk

    My mood has improved but all I want to do is paint. It’s not possible right now. I have prior longstanding obligations to attend. The refridgerator is humming. I wait… Read more

  • The Weekends

    Pain, it keeps peering its nasty little head into my body. The weekend. Sometimes it’s great. It doesn’t change my work load, seven days a week I’m up around 6am… Read more

  • Friday Studio

    I’m gonna be in my studio by 1:00. I need to go to tap plastic, the art store, and the grocery store. Bettina and Janie are coming over at 4.… Read more

  • Travel Diary Entry One: Tennessee Valley hike to beach (Alone with double B.O.B. and twins)

    “We’re going to the beach! We’re going to the beach! We’re going to the beach!” I sing to Jack and Fiona. I’m jumping up and down. They smile sitting in… Read more

  • Studio Day

    Images have been in my mind since the day I put Zappa down, blues, whites, grays, centrally located on the paper. I couldn’t wait to get into the studio. Yesterday… Read more

  • Children

    6:30 A.M., push down the black plastic ball on the French press, pour, honey, cream, taste, it’s perfect. House is dark, babies still sleeping. Time to write. “What did Jack… Read more

  • Zappa

    The catheter was in, Zappa lying down, I was by her side petting her ears, her face, avoiding the vertebra protruding, her ribs, her sunken in sides, her massive fatty… Read more

  • My Body Today

    I love my body. 43 years old, the true collector of memory. Everything I’ve been through stored inside, marks on the outside. Scars, brown spots, wrinkles, varicose veins, dry heals,… Read more

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