Naptime, the kettle just finished boiling, I pour the hot water over my stress relief tea bag, sit down, and take a bite of my chocolate chip cookie. It’s 2:37 PM Sunday afternoon, Jack and Fiona just went to sleep thirty minutes ago, the latest they’ve ever stayed up. I don’t understand how they have so much energy. Right before I put them down Jack was running in circles, Fiona kept walking away from me, when I said “It’s time for your nap” she said “no”. When I put them down I had no problems, Fiona wanted to keep her new pink sparkly Hello Kitty sneakers with her, she fussed when I took them off her, but both babies went right to sleep. They were tired even though when I asked them, “Are you tired?” they kept saying “No” and running in circles.
Today I woke up early, early enough to drink a hot cup of coffee and peanut butter toast, early enough to see the sky still dark, with light blue horizontal streaks, see the yellow and blue lights scattering the valley below, and the quiet shadows cast on the walls around me. A shadow of my apron strap twisting and turning, delicate like a ribbon. The shadow of my hand , my pen on the piece of paper on which I write. Early enough to notice my reflection in the window merging with the outside world creating another dimension, that slowly disappeared as the darkness of dawn turned into the light of morning. My dog resting on the carpet and the babies still asleep in their beds. These are the moments I can stand back, look, observe. The moments before the chaos, before the speed my two year old twins demand. They aren’t really two yet, we have two months to go. Am I trying to hurry time?
Last night on my way to bed I went in the nursery to turn off the lights and I found Jack asleep on the floor. Fiona was cozy in her bed with all her teddies. I scooped Jack up and lay him on his bed with his teddies. I imagined him going and going and going until he just dropped down and fell asleep. His feet never stop moving. He got a new pair of shoes today, they are spider man sneakers that light up when he walks. He was so proud and happy, he kept walking around looking at the lights flashing. He’s a good kid. They both are.
When I was looking for a pen to write with this morning I came across a 00 Kolinsky red sable paint brush from Utrecht. I can’t remember when I bought it, or what for. It makes tiny little marks, a place I feel uncomfortable going, into tiny little mark making, tiny little pictures. I want to experiment with this tiny little paint brush, maybe make tiny little marks on a big piece of paper. Tiny little moments, my tiny little place on this earth, my tiny little life moving quickly. Maybe making the tiny marks would be good practice for staying present. For being fully aware of each passing second. Sixty seconds in a minute, sixty minutes in an hour, and so on, how many marks would that be? Could that be? Do the tiny little marks make up one big mark? Will it teach me how much time I really do have when I slow down?
I don’t know what I love more, a quiet morning or a quiet afternoon, both are beautiful. Tomorrow is a studio day, I am really looking forward to it. I’ll start work on my DADA drypoints and stitching, but I won’t post any photos of those. They will only be revealed after the show opens in May. When I looked at the picture I made on New Years Day, the one I am posting with this blog I was shocked. It was so moody, but I was feeling very moody that day. But today I feel better.
Category: Art and finding balance
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My coffee came out perfect this morning, hot, smooth, I’m drinking it too fast, I wish I had more. I know if I made another cup it wouldn’t be as good. It’s 5:51 AM, Thursday morning, December 31st, 2015. I didn’t sleep good last night, I felt swollen and itchy from dry winter skin and poison oak covered legs. When I was sleeping, I was dreaming of words and sentences. Punctuation.
Last night when I went to turn off the lights in the nursery; Jack is tall enough to turn back on the light now; I looked in and immediately went back upstairs,
“Alan, you have to see the babies”
He came back down with me,
“Isn’t that so cute?”
“Yeah, do you think Jack was mad because Fiona is laying on his spot?”
He’s talking about a pillow chair thing that we found Jack sleeping on the other day.
“I don’t think so, I think they like sleeping next to each other”
I have a vision of Jack and Fiona sharing a twin size mattress. No, I think, they need their own beds, their own space. I lay down in my bed and think about how they have never know life apart from each other. The only time they are alone is during nap time. I can’t imagine having someone so close to me. Will they ever have my love and desire for solitude? As I sit here now basking in the peace and quiet of morning, of my time spent before the house awakens.
So this is it, the last day of 2015. It’s been a year of tremendous growth for me. When my mom died seven years ago my whole existence was compromised. My foundation was cracked, my support system broken. My closest person gone. Lately when my brother and I talk about her, we mention her mental illnesses. Ones never discussed. Ones that my brother and I both inherited to some extent, either through osmosis or dna. I seem to be more affected and concerned, maybe because I am a parent now. Before I had the babies I was so worried that I would cry and be depressed all the time. That’s what I grew up around. I’ve spent this year going deep into myself, learning ways to manage difficult times and be a good mom. I finally feel like the crack in my foundation is repaired. It takes a long time to get over a loss of someone close. And to deal with all the emotions that come up.
2016 sounds good to me. A real fresh start! Now that my foundation is solid I can start building my house. I have several shows scheduled for the new year. They are group shows with GAP, collaborative work as well as a solo piece in each show. I will probably have two solo pieces in the first show at Room Art Gallery because I was not a part of most of the Collaborative work that will be shown at Room. I have so much great work already done, but I am still making so much headway in my studio. The second show is The San Francisco International Art Festival.
This is very exciting. We are making a giant collaborative piece. We are forbidden to post any work for this show on facebook, so you’ll have to come see the show to check out the work! No sneak peeks!!My New Years Resolution is to stay present in each moment. One day I said that in a therapy session. My therapist asked “What does staying present mean to you?”
I didn’t know how to answer, all I could think of was being in the moment. But it’s more than that. Sometimes it’s easier than others. Yesterday in my studio I felt present, as I worked I wasn’t rushing, each mark I made, each decision I made was calm and unhurried.
I kept off the “merry go round” and that is what I’d like to do in 2016. Less worrying and hurrying. Less analyzing everything. I want to use my coping skills in moments when I’m freaking out. I want to be more conscious about what I have already accomplished, not what I haven’t done yet, need to do, want to do. Take heed in the saying “love thy self”It’s almost seven now, time to get to work. I can hear Fiona on the monitor.
Happy New Year!!!
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I want to do more, right now. I want to tear up a piece of that handmade thick orange paper staring at me from the floor, glue it to a piece of white paper and make one or two marks. I’ve had an interesting day in the studio so far. I’ve been working on collage, fabric, drawing, staining and watercolors. I really like the marks I’ve made. In my mind I call them “Letters to the New Year” Yes I feel like painting more. I wanna write too, maybe just to stay connected, to reach out. But there’s nothing at the tip of my head that I’m dying to tell you. About the changing year, I’m excited. Yes, I’m a whole year older, more wear and tear on my body, my mind houses a few more cobwebs, my skin, deeper layers of marks and creases, my children rapidly growing before my eyes, making me remember I can’t grasp onto time. My stacks and stacks of paintings creating a tall dense tower of history, marking my days, hours and minutes. My over 240 blog posts since February of last year. So much information about me and my life has been recorded. I remember the years going by before I started writing again, wanting to, but afraid, what might come out? Will I upset anyone? I was scared. But today I can’t imagine my life without writing almost everyday. The same way I feel about painting. Earlier, I let my husband know, “I need three hours of undisturbed time in the studio” today. I said it nice, I planned it out, It was well received and understood. I can look back at 2015 as the year I customized my practice, carved out time where I could be away from the babies, made time for myself. I figured out how to be a mom and an artist. I guess I did have something I wanted to say! I’ll finish these thoughts tomorrow. Now I only have an hour and fifteen minutes left to myself. I think I’ll paint a little more.
Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes 