“We are all connected, there is no me without you”. I feel a great excitement about the show in which I am a collaborator; Titled: Simpatico, showing with Carl Heyward, we will display solo works as well as collaborative pieces, at the Fourth Wall Gallery, Susan Aulik’s place. The energy generated by being involved in this project has been amazing. “From the efforts of one with another emerges entity, THE THIRD MIND” Carl Heyward. I found out we would get the opportunity to participate in a show at the Fourth Wall Gallery last year. It was before the San Francisco International DADA show, which GAP, Global Arts Project, was highly involved in, creating visual work, as well as a performance piece. We also were coming off a show at Room Gallery; a beautiful show. I was disappointed that not one of my works sold, only one artist sold work, even though each piece in the show was stellar. I started feeling disillusioned by all the effort and money it takes to have shows, and couldn’t understand why nobody buys work? I went to the Fourth Street Gallery on a first Friday, opening night. I brought my babies, brother, and his girlfriend. We ate Ethiopian food first, super yummy! We walked down Telegraph Avenue to 25Th street, it was dark out, it was the first time I brought the babies to Oakland; My old stomping ground. I couldn’t believe the change that had taken place on that block, First Fridays: Food Trucks, cool earrings to buy, people, lots of people, there were lots of cops too. On the corners and around the perimeters. When I saw the Galleries I was in Shock. I had heard of Vessel, someone I knew had shown there, but I never made it by; It was a friend of my mom and I’s, my mom had just died, I was really sad. I lived on 19Th and Union in West Oakland for a while. I had an awesome studio in an old warehouse: Dark, lots of old machinery and old office stuff laying around. We’d get stoned and go down there and look at stuff. (We lost our space when a developer came and built fancy, expensive lofts: Circa 1999. We were pissed) I remember nights at the Stork Club where my best friends band, The Kirby Grips used to play. We’d dress up in boots and skirts, dance, get drunk, and ride our bikes home, looking down every street for the pack of wild pitbulls. As I walk down the hall towards the Fourth Wall Gallery there are shiny, pretty paintings on the white walls, bright lights, I peer into the other Galleries, some I go in, investigate further. Pricing is high here, except for a craftsman who makes cool political found art stuff, I can’t remember his name (Bad reporting here) The Fourth Wall Gallery is Gorgeous and Susan Aulik is an inspiring woman and has a deep connection with painting, being an artist, and being a supporter and soldier for the arts communities’. I feel fortunate to have met her! When I left Oakland that night I felt a bunch of emotional feelings. The way things had changed was both amazing and wonderful and I also felt there was still a disconnect. Art is so expensive, most people don’t have $4000 to spend on a piece of art. Susan, Carl, and I agreed we wanted more people to be able to own art, make art assessable for more people. But the question is, How low do you go? I proposed a sliding scale. But I’m crazy. We’re also going to have a big sale in December with lots of other artists! The ways the past merges with the present and informs the future is crazy. I don’t know why but that sentence just made me think of Diarrhea. When one person gets it you know it’s gonna make the rounds! Why would I even think of something like that? I better get down to the studio before Jack and Fiona wake up. I probably have an hour left.
Category: Art and finding balance
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I’ve learned how to paint on canvas. I’ve learned a lot about painting working in my notebooks. A lot of work done during naptimes. Thank god I just go in my studio and start working. Today I feel awful, my whole body aches. I think I have swine flu. But I put those babies in their room and went straight to my studio. Earlier today, while Jack and Fiona were at school I went and bought some beautiful Gallery Canvas, 40×40. It is the largest I’ve worked on in a serious manner. It felt free and wonderful to have all that space. I might add some lines when they dry, but I really like what came out of me today. One of the paintings was about this dream I had lastnight. I was getting my teeth cleaned and so was Jack. We had our apointments at the same time. I could see him through the crack of the door with his blue blue in his mouth. I heard him cry. I asked the dentist, “can I call my mom, she can come help me”. We were in Oakland and my mom works in Oakland, I think to myself. He hands me a phone, I start dialing: vl7d, no, that’s wrong. I try again and again, checking the number on my cell phone. It’s dark, I can’t see very well and my fingers won’t push the right buttons. My mom is dead, was I missing her and wanting her here with me? Yesterday I was looking at one of her paintings; the one she said, “Jenny, this is my best painting ever, its what I want to paint like”. Did that stir her up?
I thought this morning of how Jack and Fiona won’t be wearing diapers soon, only six months-max. They won’t be my little babies anymore. I’ve been writing messages to them in notebooks. I think they will appreciate it.”while you guys were sleeping Mommy was painting in her studio” I’ll write to them. Thank you for being such wonderful children and taking your naps! What will happen to naptime paintings when Jack and Fiona do stop taking naps? And their little baby bellies and chubbie cheeks disappear? I’ll miss it. I’ll miss this stage of motherhood, even though its so fucken hard sometimes! It has been an amazing soul quenching journey.
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It’s Jacks special morning away with mommy. I decided to do this last night; this week has been the hardest, deepest, most raw emotions and feelings I’ve ever had to deal with as a mother. The most primitive, instinctual, uncomfortable. The dynamic between Jack, Fiona, and I is shifting, I attribute this transition to sibling rivalry and rapprochement. Today as I sat at the duck pond with Jack, feeding ducks, walking from spot to spot, going on adventures around the Marin Civic Center, a Frank Lloyd Wright building; Jack responded to the architecture and sense of exterior space created by lamp posts, benches, the curved building, the tall narrow windows, the large size of everything. There were moments of silence, an ease of togetherness, cohesiveness. Qualities of moments in parenting that don’t come often while raising twins. Jack was a different person to me, an independent little boy. I was a different person too, I ceased being the stressed out bitch, exasperated by saying “No”, or “don’t hit”. The constant trouble Jack and Fiona get into, and me trying to stop them from getting mortally wounded. Even now, as I sit here and type Jack is watching a classic episode of Sesame Street; he woke up from his nap earlier than Fiona. I’m saying “oh my god” all day long listening to tiff after annoying tiff. Did my mom have to listen to me and Danny fight every five minutes over who’s cup is whose? It’s makes it difficult to have quality time with them when it’s a constant stressed out situation. There’s not enough of me. Last night Jack hit me and kicked me in the face, I finally broke and slapped his leg. It didn’t feel right. He looked at me and started laughing and tried to hit me again. He thought it was funny, some kind of game. I hit you, you hit me back harder, like fight club. For a quick second I wondered if my two-and-a-half-year-old was demented? Then I came to the conclusion, that possibly he has been hitting more often because of the rapprochement and I am not able to give either baby enough attention at one time to re-fuel their tanks. So I decided to combat this stressful situation we find ourselves in with more one on one time with the babies and separating them during nap time. They’ve been getting up to no good during naptime, taking off diapers, peeing on the floor, ripping books, spitting water on the floor, driving me crazy. Fiona’s turn is next, maybe the library. Jack is an angel when it’s just me and him, I know Fiona will be just as well behaved. It’s very emotional raising kids. I was so mad at them several times this week. They were bad. I can’t make them happy all the time, they are learning to be human. I am learning more about being human every day. Learning about myself. My heart is beating faster now, it’s time to go get Fiona up, the push and pull about to unleash.
Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes 