A windy fall afternoon, the ground adorned with large light tan fig leaves with rusty tops. Pink and magenta bougainvillea leaves, wispy sticks and thick sticks. Deep red wine. Long legged dark brown spider crawling across the floor in the morning. Yellow school bus, purple sage. Studio full of paint, paint drips, paint splatters, dark, dirty charcoal, paintings, drawings, frags, all contained. Work leaves my studio, graduates, becomes contained in a frame, hangs, is looked at, is bought, is re-hung in a new location. The cycle repeats, spreading an idea, a concept, a mistake, a masterpiece. I remain, for now, to create, to paint, to write, to care for, to love. I circle on through the Fall, through the Winter, through the Spring, through the Summer. One year leads to the next. One years’ worth of work contained in my series “Never Enough Time”. From Autumn to Autumn, from days before Trump was elected. My studio gave me a refuge, a place to react and deactivate my murky days. To bring me back into focus, to work though my feelings and emotions, to come back into being a homemaker, a mother an artist. Practicing becoming me, a full version of me. Artist and Mother and Wife. I look at my work for this show, all together as a group. I have worked hard. I see my growth as an artist, aesthetically, an esthetic that is uniquely me. It’s beautiful and scary simultaneously. It’s my whole self, my innards and outers exposed for everyone to consume. It’s a glass of deep red wine on a late fall afternoon
Category: American politics
-
Today we woke up to a surprise blue sky. I was expecting the worst, all the air quality reports said today would be the worst. The fires are still burning, the wind must have taken the smoke somewhere else for the day? Jack, Fiona, Billy, and I walked to the park. It was a wonderful thing to breath fresh air. Jack and Fiona were so excited to play outside. When we got back there was a band tailed pigeon on the front stairs. He appeared to be injured, he just hopped up and down the stairs. I gave him some bird food and went inside. When I checked on him again he was huddled between the garbage cans so Jack and I took him to Wild Care, a wild animal rescue center. I realized the flock of birds I’ve been seeing recently are Band Tailed Pigeons. This was the first year I’ve seen them here. I enjoy watching them sitting in the trees.
Without the smoke it’s easy to forget about the fires. Alan is playing with Jack, tickling him, Fiona is eating a snack next to me. I want them to know how lucky we are. I want them to know every meal we eat is precious. It would be easy for Jack and Fiona to grow up and not understand that things don’t come easy to everyone. That all kids don’t have healthy food available all-day long. That some places in the world have air as bad as ours was yesterday every day of the year. Do kids still play outside in those places? I watched a Frontline last night about Scott Pruitt the head of the EPA. It was scary, he’s not in the job to protect the environment. It’s sad. With all the historic natural disasters I haven’t heard anything about Global Warming and its effects from the administration. Extreme weather is our reality, people are losing their homes, jobs, loved ones, livelihood. It breaks my heart. I want Jack and Fiona to know how lucky we are.
-
Armageddon. I’m not feeling very comfortable with the thick, light grey, low lying, cool, eerie smoke-filled sky outside. Not one bit at all. It’s almost like in a movie, when everything gets still and then a catastrophic event happens. No one’s safe anymore. The hills look like they could ignite, like they are living creatures. I don’t hear anything right now except the kettle and the circulation fan. A few birds fly by and the trees start to rustle. I pour boiling water over coffee grounds. I think about how my personal, internal filter is completely gone. I’m exhausted after so many tragedies week after week. Jack and Fiona know about floods, hurricanes, white supremacists, gun violence, fires, smoke in the air, Trump, North Korea, sexism. I can’t protect them from all this information, and haven’t tried that hard. This is their reality, this is what they are growing up in. This is the world that they live in. I must lock them in the house today when they get home. They can’t play outside in the smoke. I don’t want them to watch T.V. either. It’s seeming stupider and stupider, those shows they watch. Especially Jack, his taste in shows is way too mature for his age. He’s starting to act like a teenager already and he’s only three and a half.
The shadows today are very strange. Muted shadows and reflections, almost an orange glow. Sun peers out through smoke, hit a book on my table. Still, I enjoy the quiet, the before every other minute I hear Mommy. I walk away for one minute, I tell Jack and Fiona where I am going, what I am doing and the minute I get there I hear Mommy. It’s an annoying phenomenon. Ten minutes. Shit that went by fast. I need more time before facing reality. Or should I say more time to not face reality, like time to go work in my studio! That is what I need today. Painting time.
Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes 