Mom Art + My Story
I’ve painted all my life, but decided to take my art seriously when I had my son and wanted to be a stay-at-home-mom. Painting was the only way I could work when I was so exhausted that my brain had freezer burn but my heart still beat and somehow guided my hands. I couldn’t think, but my body could paint. That’s how this work is heart work, not just art work.
I also painted because I was and am so trapped as a stay-at-home-mom. First, I love being a mom: it fulfills my soul. But I don’t get to travel, to go out with friends (and when I do, even visiting a friend’s couch can cost $50 in babysitting), and rarely can I carve out more than half an hour to be alone. Lately I’ve been thinking that my personal symbol is the moon, because the only way I can get anything done is in phases. That’s why this body of work is such a triumph. And why, when I whittled everything down, painting was what was left. It’s the only instantly gratifying heart work that accepts a few minutes here, an hour there, and eventually evolves into a painting, then a body of work, then a life of its own.