Mother/Artist

This ongoing body of work has been coming together slowly as a self investigation of my journey into motherhood. I don't know when I became a mother/artist. It could have been the years spent trying to have a child, longing for a child, and dealing with the mental and emotional strain of multiple miscarriages (see Yawning Beagles). But really, when my first child was born, I quickly found that whatever preconceived notion I had of motherhood - good or bad - was absurdly wrong. I was thrown into a world I knew absolutely nothing about, fueled by a hormonal intensity that I didn't even know my body was capable of torturing me with, all while being the sole caretaker of a fragile and voracious new being. I was constantly needed, constantly occupied, and felt completely adrift in the universe. I was tethered to the earth by the 8 pound ball of need in my arms. During that first year, every part of myself was broken down, puked upon and left in a disheveled heap of confusion and sleep deprivation. I have been slowly regenerating myself ever since, using whatever parts I can find lying around. I have made myself into a cyborg, of sorts. Pieces of my old self twisted with the new more resilient parts that can miraculously survive on exactly zero hours of sleep. There’s a patina of unidentified sticky substance on me and at least one cheerio in my bra. There are no more days off. There are no more naps. There’s only the force of their gravity keeping me anchored.  These are snapshots of this journey. Some of them have been expanded upon into fuller series - Tiny Trophies, and Letters from Eliza June. Most are collected here as flashes of an idea, or recreation of a moment. I expect that just as my children change everyday before my eyes, this journey and this work will change as well.