“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: introspection
-
“look mama, Look, come here” Jack says. He’s half way under a stack of driftwood, criss crossed over the ravine, which becomes a fast, deep, creek during the rainy season. Sand moves under Jacks body, I get down under the driftwood house with him. “That’s so cool Jack” I say. Light casts through spaces down onto damp sand, dark areas and light. “It’s someones home” I say. A sand home: soft like blankets, damp, raccoon, beaver, mouse, skunk. This isn’t for us; this isn’t our home. “let’s go, out of here” I say. The smell of ocean breeze hits our faces as we climb back up and out onto the dune. Billy up high on the bluff watching everything. Early September northern California beaches, fog lifts, leaving clear skies. Sun warms our bodies, crows caw and vultures circle them in the sky. I am at peace here. We all are. Watching the waves crash, feeling them rumble, afraid of their power Jack cries and says, “No Mamma” if I get too close. He grabs onto Fiona and pulls her back, he falls to the ground and lets out a cry because he’s afraid Billy will get swept away. It’s a healthy fear, these waves are friends to sea creatures, rocks, tides. We can only admire the beauty of this wet blue home from afar. On our way back to the car we caught the sunset. It was perfect, our bodies covered in sand, super tired from our adventure today, we sit admiring the orange sky, Jack and Fiona snuggled in my lap, my eyes seeing spots when I turn away. Jack and Fionas first real sunset experience. When we get home, I give Jack and Fiona a bath, they are half asleep. They cry so hard, I wrap them in warm towels and take them to their room. I put on their jammas and they fall right to sleep.
Today Jack and Fiona were really mellow. “I wanna paint” says Jack. “O.K.” I say. “In your studio” Says Jack. “O.K., let me get your paints.” I dress them in my t-shirts and their shoes. They paint for a few minutes, but Jack starts messing with my press. I need to make a print with him. We work on plexi glass and hand printing. Fiona is much more attentive; she makes a really nice print. I’m inspired and want to paint. Jack just messes around! Luckily I have a chance to get into my studio this evening, Alan took the babies to the park. I run into my studio as fast as I can. Pull out paints, brushes, make marks, it feels good. I’m really enjoying working on canvas. I’m still doing paper too. I like them both. I sold a painting over the weekend, very exciting. It was one of my favorites too. I told the babies, but I don’t know if they understood. It made me feel good to sell something. I think about this subject a lot, selling work, not selling work. Having art shows and not selling anything happens all the time. It’s always so disappointing. Then when I finally do sell something I start thinking people are finally going to start buying, but it never happens. I’ve learned not to take it that seriously, not to let it get me too down. I go into my studio and paint. I keep painting. And taking care of my babies, that’s all I can do.
-
Please let the quiet slumber of Jack and Fionas’ nap last a little longer. Give me a bit more time to relish in the peaceful sounds: the humming of the overhead fan, the creaking of the house, the fridge, chimes; sounds different and sacred, meshed together calmness I desperately need after the day I’ve had. Morning comes, as I wake to Fiona coughing incessantly, then calling out “momma, mommy, mommmy, momma”. I decide to get her, bring her upstairs with me, but as I go to the door I hear Jack crying what sounded like, “I want my pizza, I want my pizza, I want my pizza” I stood next to the door. Should I, shouldn’t I. It’s only 7:00AM. I decide to go upstairs and have my peanut butter toast and coffee first, maybe they will fall back to sleep I say to myself. Jack and Fiona quiet down and I enjoy my little morning coffee break. I make them breakfast as usual and go down to get them. They great me with smiles and stories about things they remember from the days before. Things seem normal, I’m not worried. I think about taking Fiona to the doctor for her cough, but that doesn’t stress me out. “I wanna watch Mickie Mouse” Jack starts saying. He has barely touched his breakfast, same with Fiona. I reduce my expectations, turn on Mickey Mouse and lay on the floor with the babies. We enjoy this time together, who cares if we’re learning to tune out, we’re together and we’re resting. I have a nagging, I know I can’t just stay home all day, we need groceries, I’ve been putting it off. I ask the babies if they want to go to the park. “No, no park” Jack says. I’m can’t believe it. “Do you want to go to the store?” I ask. “Yes” they do. I tell Billy “Stay here, we’re just going to the store”. We get our groceries and some new toys from T.J. Max and go home; I let both babies loose while I unload the car. I start to take things in. I start with the new toys, putting them in the babies’ bedroom, thinking it might keep them occupied while I put away the groceries and make the lunch. Right off the bat fighting occurs, “I want that!” then crying, hitting, pulling, annoying behaviors start to unfold. “Oh my god!” I say. I am looking at shredded blinds, splinters, pieces hanging off, pieces on the floor, all these thoughts running through my head: should I cut the whole thing off? How can I clean this? Who did this? Did the babies do it last night and I was too tired to notice this morning? What will Alan say? How mad will he be? Oh my God, Billy did it! She was so pissed I left her behind today. I start picking up the mess, Fiona helps me, picking up pieces of wood and putting them in the bag. I break off the broken slats of wood and roll the blind up far enough so the carnage isn’t visible. I vacuum and put the nursery back together. I hear Jack upstairs, “Oh my God!” he says. “What?” I yell. Silence. I grab Fiona, “We gotta go see what Jacks doing” I say. As I’m walking up the stairs I call out, “Jack, what are you doing?” He tells me he’s getting water. I see he’s sitting on the edge of the sink with his feet in. I put Fiona down and rush over, he has his feet right next to broken glass, I scan for red, pick up each soft, little, precious foot, no cuts. I look down and I see why he said “Oh my God”, Billy has gotten into the trash, there’s wet, stinky, coffee ground covered, banana peel, garbage strewn across the floor. I barely managed to get it swept up, lunch made and unsuccessfully served, and Jack and Fiona down for a nap before I snapped. I got them down just in time for my workout and hot shower to take the morning edge off, just in time to keep my sanity and not fall into some type of permanent fog of stress and disbelief. Just in time to realize that, that’s life, yesterday my dog was amazing, today she’s a damn bitch. Just in time to accept my children as being needy and needing my whole self, not just a portion, not just a side glance while my face plants on a screen. In time to have the break I need to appreciate life for it’s bad days, hard days, art days, and beach days. Just in time to say to myself, “I might not have time to paint today, that’s o.k., I can wait until I have time.” I hear Fiona waking now, Jack will be right behind her. I am here ready to slip into the evening routine, whether they are sick and needy or fun and healthy! I will be grateful for either and adapt to whichever it is, fully available as Mom.
Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes 