Risk of injury: Greatly increased
Capacity for epic end result: Greatly increased
This is my first post in Artist in Motherhood Residency series. You can read more about it here.
I wonder what Vincent felt as he blended sunset hues or scraped greens of every shade. Did he ever get hungry? It's hard to imagine a genius getting hungry. I imagine him, head down, blending blending blending, then tool to canvas, deliberate and sure. Brows bunched, muscles tensed and stretched. Perfect awkwardness translating a perception in his head into an image of such depth and beauty.
When I saw these paintings this summer at the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek in Copenhagen, I froze. I had just seen this sculpture, which is the most beautiful work of art I have ever seen. (I had just seen the original Christus, so this is saying a lot.) They were so beautiful. I had never seen these paintings by Vincent Van Gogh in any book. I felt a little miffed that I never knew these existed. As if the world had some obligation to me that I should know every work of one of the world's most famous artists. It struck me: somehow Van Gogh painted these masterpieces, in his own corner of the world, and so few (proportionally) knew or know of them. How does this happen?
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Recently, we lost a family friend. Not just a family friend, but someone we really, really loved. He was like family to us. His name is Aaron. I can't say "was" because it's still surreal that he is gone. He was a really good person. So sweet. Really funny. A really weird, surprising sense of humor that bubbled out in this warm, quiet way. It manifested itself in surprising texts that truly made you LOL. When he talked to you, he really listened. He made you feel loved and cared for. He was exceptional. Above and beyond in all the things that really matter.
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I'm feeling the textures of my life. The paint pushing up against the canvas, the imposing shades of light and dark. The sun setting every evening leaving exhaustion and frayed nerves, or gratitude and serenity. Perhaps it's okay if the artist admits defeat and sets the canvas aside to begin the masterpiece anew. Paint smudges on a smeared palette wait nearby.
All images by Lenka Clayton
Three years ago, I wrote about Lenka's Artist in Motherhood Residency on Design Mom. Lenka Clayton is a fine artist who had a tough time finding a residency that would accept her because of the constraints of having a child. So, she created one herself and called it Residency in Motherhood. She printed business cards, scheduled part-time child care, and established her own "studio space" where she dedicated herself to exploration and creation and journaled the process for the world to see. The result is beautiful. (Alain De Boton agrees.) When I found Lenka's project three years ago, it moved me. When she photographed objects she found in her child's mouth (63 Objects Taken From My Son's Mouth), I laughed. I got it. When she typed interrupted, stunted, exasperating events of the day (What do we do all day? jpg file name "nightmare"), I was right there with her. I was her, and she was telling the story I didn't know how to tell, but felt. She was the Artist of Motherhood, accidentally painting a dizzyingly poignant picture of my personal motherhood.
Three years and two more children later, I rediscovered Lenka's project. I don't recall what I was doing on the desktop computer—I'm so rarely sitting down in the office these days—but I happened upon her personal update. She's shown art in the Guggenheim (among so many places!), she's waiting for her second child to arrive, and she's created a Artist in Motherhood Residency kit so anyone in the world can create their own "formal" residency at home or at a studio, and even seek a grant. It moved me again, just like it did three years ago. But this time I did something about it. I pulled a sheet of paper out of my notebook and scribbled down the following mess:
And just like that, I am an Writer-Artist in Motherhood Resident. (Albeit a Bachelor-watching, stick-figure drawing, part-time one. Baby steps, right Lenka?) If you want to join me, sign up and put your name on the world map and let's keep in touch and follow each other to see each other's projects. I'll be sharing some of my thoughts here since I am calling myself a Writer-Artist, but most in my private physical journals. (I still keep those, but alas, no key.)
Thank you, Lenka. Oh, and your pinterest boards are amazing. xo
PS One of those links in the Design Mom post now takes you to a Tumblr featuring breast augmentation. LOL