“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: motherhood
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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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“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.
Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes 