The sky is a hazy-almost smog like today. A fog. Steam billows from the kettle. Time to make a second cup of coffee. Sometimes I feel I can’t bare another day without painting and writing in my studio. Paintings lean up against my press. I need my press to start my next major project. I have a list of obstacles before I can really get going on my new book. My studio. It’s too messy to begin a new project, a vision I’m 100% clear on. I need to put away my new paintings from my recent show, hang some and store some. I need to mask the remnants of my last series. (I need to mail GAP frags). Get fresh plexi glass from Tap Plastic. Those are the primary obstacles. The other obstacle is office work. I have been promoting Nap Time Paintings; created a sell sheet that I’m proud of, stuffed, stamped, wrote cover letters for 170 so far. I even sent some books to a few of my favorite books stores. It’s been fun, but I miss my free style creative time. My coffee is done. It’s so good. I’m half way done with it already. What Art can I do with 40 minutes left? I could fit in the last 42 cover letters for my packets that are stamped and ready to go. But that’s not very creative. I need more time!
Category: New Work
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It’s interesting how time and place can bring up memories. I read once that the body remembers things; it internalizes things that stick deep inside. My daughter was born with hearing loss, and just after Jack and Fiona were born, I went to a family support group at Early Start, an early intervention program for parents of children who are deaf and hearing-impaired. I remember when I talked to the group at Early Start, I was very emotional. I stood up, bouncing Fiona; I was holding her in a blue baby wrap I wore, trying to get her to fall asleep, and Jack was asleep in a Pack n’ Play. I told the women in the group about everything; told them about Christopher, a baby I had when I was fifteen who died when he was only six months old, and my whole fertility story. I remember feeling so fragile and raw. I had never confronted those experiences of birth and babies. I internalized so much pain about my reproductive system; I remember thinking, when Jack and Fiona were a few months old, I had uterine cancer. I made the doctors run a bunch of tests. I thought for sure there must be something wrong with me. There must be a reason my body rejected a baby, wouldn’t get pregnant. I carried these feelings for so long. This year, as Jack and Fiona turn four years old, I feel whole again, not broken. It sounds like I’m saying having children has healed my wounds, but with time, I’m sure I would have healed through my art, even if I hadn’t had kids.
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It’s a strange thing to be working on my book about my life ten years ago, examining my experience trying to have kids, looking back on my marriage, as my almost four-year-old son runs in to tell me My Little Ponies on! Thinking back on my time to “Think” back then, now I have none. I suppose if I woke up at 4:00AM in the morning I would have a couple hours. And I know all the parents reading this are thinking, “It gets easier” and I know this. It goes in waves, Nap Time was glorious, I had guaranteed time to write and paint and think. It’s been a hard road since then, no down time. I realize how fast this four years has gone, and even when I look back at my life since marriage it’s gone lightning fast. Yes, Jack and Fiona will be in primary school in a couple years and I know that is the beginning of them pulling away from me. It doesn’t change the moments in between, the loss of quality time for my marriage, and my head always on the verge of exploding. The questions and needs of Jack and Fiona are intense, non-stop. Sometimes I have to tell them “STOP” to nothing they are doing in particular, I just want them to stay still for one minute. But they keep going and going non-stop until night when they pass out. We are going through a period of extreme silliness and potty talk. Yesterday after preschool I decided to get them ice cream while I had my lunch, to sit outside in the plaza. I couldn’t talk to them because it was-poop-diarrhea-pee talk to everything. It’s just a phase, but it’s not fun to me. They are adorable kids, especially one on one it’s much nicer. Jack just asked me to put on his shoes, he’s naked and wants to chase Fiona. I guess I don’t have much of a silly side.
Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes 