two down... more festering

I have been busy. Busy as a bee. Mother bee in her hive. Tending to the daily chores of motherhood and household. I have made an effort to paint and draw. I'm still not to where I want to be, but I feel like I'm making progress.

My first self portrait in this project turned out to be a work in acrylic. Although my mouth is disproportionate to the rest of my face, I accomplished something I admire in other portrait paintings: using blue hues to provide shadows. The colors are quite striking to my eyes. The interesting thing is, I hate it. Ha ha ha. There's something so discomforting about looking at myself. I hung the painting above my desk in the main room, in a place where I'm forced to notice it everyday. I'm hoping to figure out why I hate looking at myself.


My second self portrait is a headless, pencil drawing. I tried to use simple lines and shading, and I'm actually more pleased with this portrait. There's something about mutilating my body image that I find strangely relaxing. It's almost as if I'm telling myself, "It could be worse."

I want more. Originally, I set out to complete three self portraits. I didn't want to overwhelm myself with a daunting, lofty goal. But, I'm two-thirds done with my goal, and I haven't come any closer to sanctity within myself. So, I'm planning on doing more. I'm not sure why, but there's a tension within myself I need to solve. It's further in than just a low self image, further away from the solution of better diet and exercise. And I've got a long way to go before I figure it out.

Peek-a-boo

Where did I go? I had a revelation during a recent visit with my grandmother. She said something I'm sure I've heard before, but this time, coming from within the depths of someone I've known in a not so serious way, it rang in me. She said, "after you have a child, you sometimes lose your identity." This is entirely true in the case of me.

Although I have managed some small accomplishments whilst being with child, i.e., completing a year of college while pregnant and through the newborn stage, a large part of myself has been consumed. I can't say I've minded, or even noticed, that this small and beautiful life has banished a part of me. However, during the transition from single-independent-woman, to married-mother-of-one, I seem to have forgotten to nurture myself in some ardently important ways.

There is a deep, post-partum need, now, to rediscover myself.

Step One: I have decided to clean out my painting corner in the basement of my house. It has never actually been what I've wanted it to be, and now it houses dust-bunnies and cat vomit, not an environment conducive to the creative process. So, I'm relocating. I think I will more actively pursue my painting in a more mobile and interchangeable setting, say... the dining room table. My inner yearning for the compartmentalized aroma of small, new york style apartment living, mixed with the hustle-bustle of mothering will hopefully collide to create a setting that will encourage my art. No more dingy basement, where spiders and cobwebs clot my creative flow.

Step Two: I never really understood self portraits until now. Once, I painting a gigantic portrait of myself. There were lots of layers, textures, and colors, and somehow they all disappeared beneath a new idea. I, quite literally, lost myself. In my previous blog, I made note of Alice Neel. Her technique and pallate appeal to me. She has a way of discovering people through brushstrokes. So I've set out to do the same, in a more narsacistic way. I plan on completeing three self portraits. The number three is just a number at this point. I feel if I only did one, it wouldn't really push me into the process I want to go through. I want to painstakingly discover my physical self, to pour onto what I've more recently decided to hate. Maybe after a few paintings I'll be able to see the beauty again. After the three self portraits, I'll have to redetermine where I'm at in my process, and if I'm any closer to becoming more self aware.

We'll see.

old timer

it's been two years since my last post. not cool. since then, i've moved across state lines... twice. got married. had a baby. went back to school. wow. it's been an eventful two years to say the least, and I only vaguely feel bad that I haven't publicly written. although, i'm not sure this blog is entirely public.

now that it's summer, I have a lot of time on my hands, once the baby is asleep. i now have plenty of time to sit and think about my somewhat misplaced identity in self.

i stopped painting.

this is something that pains me. I want to get the colors flowing again, to feel brush against canvas. alas, there now a real sacrifice i have to make for my work. i watched half of the documentary about Alice Neel today, and I found myself in agony that she was able to persist as a painter, through hardships of crumpled relationships, poverty, and single-parenting. she painted, whether she could afford to or not, whether she had the time to or not, the money, or the market. she painted. it was an extension of her being.

i have lost that part of myself.

from time to time, it peeks it's head from beneath the folds of motherhood and daily life. i see it emerge like a dormant hermit crab, looking for the next place to blossom. this shell has dried and tarnished.

i must persist.