Sick again. Then better. Then sick. Then better. A roller-coaster. Non-stop dishes; complaining re-wires the mind, it makes you more prone to anxiety and depression, I read this on-line. The pile grows, minute after minute, day after day. It causes me anxiety. There’s nothing I can do about it. I feel overwhelmed domesticity-wise. It’s hard for me to handle the constant talking, my name being called from all which ways, 360 degrees around my head, non-stop. The pulling in this direction and that. The mess after mess, Jack and Fiona growing up into actual people, whole people I need to clean up after. There’s no containing the mess, or trying to “keep up with it”, no, it just barrels out, the minute you think you’ve got it all under control, KaBoom! It’s like a hurricane went through the house. I can’t tell how exhausted I am from this whole ordeal. (of being a parent). Or if it’s the beginning of menopause and my hormones are changing drastically, leaving me unable to be the “Good Housewife”. I’ve said this before; it’s back breaking work. It’s intellectual too. Sometimes I’m bombarded with so much talking, mood switches, fighting, whining, asking, grabbing, calling my name, my mind goes blank. I can’t remember names of common zoo animals. Spaghetti brain. Then the constant anxiety over the election, pure fright. Do I need something stronger? Something to numb my body and my senses? A costume? A disguise? Fake it till I make it? Does my stomach hurt from stress or hormones? Or is it real? Are all feelings real? How do we honor ourselves and how we are feeling when we are under a heavy pile of dirty laundry? Too heavy to pick up, too massive to just “get it done”. These are feelings that go through my mind and body. Things I say that get taken out of context, another problem when you’re raw. Is it a shared feeling? A shared sense of being? It’s noon, Monday November 7, 2016. Tomorrow is the election. We will see if some of my discomfort will go away after tomorrow (If Hilary wins). If Trump wins, I just don’t know. It will be a very sad and difficult day for me, for a lot of people.
Category: Art and finding balance
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Sunday. A DAY I normally don’t spend in the Studio. But it’s naptime and I haven’t been in my studio for days. This was a must. And Good Thing! I painted “Creepy Kitty Lady and Scary Pumpkin Face”. An acrylic painting on a large unstretched canvas. I LOVE it! Since I’ve decided to focus on painting for awhile I’ve completely gone back to my roots. My large unstretched figurative canvases. I had to get in here today. Naptime was my only option.
It’s almost time to go back in the house. I take a deep breath.Go in. Drink water. Take a bunch of deep breaths. let the October changing sky, light, shadows coming, crispness in the air guide our night. Let the mood guide us. If there’s more cranky whining I will light some candles, drink a glass of wine and tell the babies stories and give them whatever food they want.
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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.
Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes 