Thoughts on Perfection and Motherhood

“Turn the child over to love.  Turn yourself over to the idea that love and peace simply are.”

---Polly Berrien Berends, Whole Child/ Whole Parent

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Yesterday, I painted this portrait of my sister nursing her new baby.  I was trying to capture the holiness, the other-worldliness, that is expressed in one of my favorite paintings, The Virgin Holding the Sleeping Child, With Saint John and Two Angels, by Bernardino Luini (1480-1532).  Of course, I failed completely.  With my eager, plodding brushstrokes, I piled the paint on too thickly, and made the figures heavy and crude.  And how did Luini get them to almost glow with light?  Oh, that's right, he knew and worked with Leonardo da Vinci himself!  I'm sure they painted together, and da Vinci must have taught him a few things.

The Virgin Holding the Sleeping Child, With Saint John and Two Angels by Bernardino Luini

Really take a look at this detail.  Is anything more perfect?

A small print of Luini’s painting hangs in my studio, where it continues to give me a sense of peace and comfort every time I look at it.  The Mother’s quiet love and the Baby’s complete trust are ideals for which I strive daily. 

 But let's be real.  We all know that motherhood is not always serene.  Children are not always blissfully sleeping.  Mothers are not always graceful, patient, and kind.  Motherhood is hard.  It's messy, stressful, and overwhelming.  It can bring out the worst in us. 

a sketch of my sister nursing her new baby

I think most mothers look a little more like Madame Renoir: wrinkly clothes, disheveled hair, and a dazed look from not getting quite enough sleep.  But still, Renoir loves her and thinks she is beautiful.  Look how tenderly he has painted her, as she nurses their little son Pierre.

Mme Renoir With Her Son Pierre

And as for me, well, this whole parenthood thing has been a very humbling experience.  I'm so far from perfect.  As an example, here is an excerpt from my diary, August 7, 2010.  (Morgan is 4 months old; Nell is 3 and a half.  And you will need to know that Liza is my good friend and neighbor.)

Blah!  Hard day...Everyone is sick but me...I was terribly cranky all day, and had almost as many emotional meltdowns as my 3-year-old daughter.  I feel really stressed...I MISS art...I feel drained...It all caught up with me today, despite a walk to the farmer's market with Morgan, where I got fresh basil, peaches, and nectarines, and a bouquet of flowers.  I fell in a heap on the floor of the kitchen, crying at the Goliath-load of housework looming over me.  Nell was sweet and hugged me.  "That's okay, mommy," she said.  "Just get a broom"

Liza came over and brought me a gift, a bottle of her favorite Portuguese white wine.  Also, she presented me with a little bound notebook, pocket-sized, in which to write all of my ideas for paintings, etc.  It's wonderful to have such a delightful, understanding friend.

I hit a low point a few months later, when  I wrote this in my diary: 

Two days ago I really LOST IT at Nell.  I was really angry.  She was really scared and crying...I feel like the very worst awful mother I could be...I am like a wretched, hideous, putrid, disgusting worm.

But then, two weeks later, we get a moment like this:

Driving in the car today, Morgan asleep, Nell in the back seat asks me: "Mommy, how did you get so beautiful?"  On our left, the shining, ice-glazed river.  On our right, the steep, snow-white cliffs.  And the road before us.  And the road behind us.  Beauty all around.

 I think what I am trying to say is that you can hold the two ideas of motherhood at the same time; the miserable, stressed-out mother and the Holy mother are two sides to the same coin.  Perfection, like a golden thread, is inextricably woven into our woefully imperfect experiences: the tantrum on the kitchen floor, and  the bouquet of flowers on the counter.  And it doesn't hurt to have a good friend stop by, just when you need her.

And what became of the little notebook that Liza gave me?  I used it so much it practically disintegrated.  But it was a spark that kindled the flame that is burning in my heart today, the flame of artistic creativity.

Disclaimer:  I know I'm being "mother-biased," because I happen to be a mother.  Sorry about that!  This sketch is my shout-out to all those great DADS out there, doing such a great job, and struggling with the same things.  Keep up the good work, dads!

Thanks for reading my new blog!  Please post a comment below, and you will be entered into a raffle to win a free 5x7'' high-quality print of any of my paintings or drawings you choose.  The deadline is 9 pm next Thursday night, September 24, 2015.

Sharing Wonder: Looking at Art Books With my Daughter

"What we need is more sense of the wonder of life

and less of this business of making a picture."

 --Robert Henri, The Art Spirit

We are looking at paintings by one of my favorite artists, Pierre Bonnard.

Parenthood is all-consuming; it’s the kind of thing you need to embrace wholeheartedly, or suffer in futile resistance.  Your passion for your children and your passion for your art appear to compete with each other, and it can feel painful.  Maybe this is your struggle.  If so, take heart.  There is a middle path, a path of wonder.  

For the past year, my 8-year-old daughter Nell has been getting up very early in the morning to spend time alone with me while the others are still asleep.  We creep downstairs together quietly and I make some tea and coffee.  Then I let Nell choose one of the many big art books on my bookshelf, stuffed with full-color reproductions of beloved paintings.  And then we sit, slowly turning the pages, talking about our favorite artists, snuggled under our blankets, until the boys came downstairs wanting breakfast.

Nell's favorite painting by Georgia O'Keeffe, Red and Orange Hills, 1938

Lately, those mornings are fewer and fewer, as I’ve been trying to fit in some morning exercise for myself.  But we try to have at least one morning a week when we connect in this special way.  It’s wonderful for me to see the paintings through her eyes, to ask her what it is about the paintings that speaks to her soul.  Her fresh perspective invigorates my own understanding of each artwork, and gives me new inspiration.  I am always learning, and my appreciation of art is always growing wider.

In his book The Art Spirit, Robert Henri asks us not to focus so much on "this business of making a picture," or, as I understand it, the egotistical idea that as an artist, I am defined and valued by my material production of Art.  Instead, Henri calls for us to cultivate our "sense of the wonder of life."  This wonder is the real mark of an artist, and who can help us more in our quest for wonder than the children who share our lives?

Generous Permission

”Nothing redeems but beauty, its generous permission, its gorgeous celebration of all that has previously been uncelebrated.”  --Dave Hickey, The Invisible Dragon  

I’m so excited about the next two years.  I can’t contain myself!  Here is what is happening with me:  I have been a stay-at-home mom, devoted to raising my two wonderful children for nearly 9 years, and they started school this week:  both of them!  (kindergarten and 3rd grade)  It has been a long time since I didn’t have a little one at home all day.  Suddenly, I will have the hours between 8:30 am and 3:30 pm all to myself.  It couldn’t come at a better time. 

For the past year, I have been on fire, fiercely, in my soul.  I am an artist!  I want to paint!  I need to paint!  Of course, I have been painting all along, squeezing it in wherever I can, but now the doors are opening.  And I am so ready.

Several months ago, I was surfing the internet, cruising around looking at artist-residency opportunities, and fantasizing about packing my bags full of paint brushes and canvas and moving to Italy, to immerse myself in painting.  After a few days of this, Ian, my patient, loving, albeit somewhat startled husband, started to protest.  In his opinion, abandoning my own family in pursuit of Art was not my best course of action.  “Why not have an artist residency here?” he asked.  “It could be a mom-housewife-artist residency.  Let’s call it a two-year residency, and then we’ll have a meeting at the end of the two years, and plan our next steps.”

"Father and Son," oil on canvas, 11x14''

And so, Ian gave me generous permission to go for it, to really work on what I am passionate about, without worrying about money.  And it will be work.  I intend to WORK.  In the most joyful, most enthusiastic, most exhausting sense of the word.  For the next two years, I have been given this generous permission to pursue my passion to the hilt.  As with all artist-residencies, I do have to uphold my side of the deal.  In this situation, I have to keep the house from completely decomposing into the ground, feed my family, and meet the kids when they get off the bus.  No problem!  I don’t plan to win any housekeeping awards, but certain mediocre standards will be upheld.  (However, I do have high standards for loving my family and being a good mother, so I will be vigilant to make sure that doesn’t slacken.)

In the meantime:  Art!  It’s not really Ian who has given me this generous permission.  I am giving it to myself, by speaking up about what I need, by listening to my heart, and by valuing my vocation as more than a selfish hobby.  Instead, it is the life-blood of my existence.  And I would like to give you, dear reader, the same generous permission.  Redeem your life, take up your paintbrush, your pencil, your camera, your monologue, your artistic weapon of choice, and follow me into this awesome battle, to slay our monsters and conquer lands that until now have only been in our dreams.

Stay tuned.  Every Wednesday I will write an art-related blog post to encourage, inspire, intrigue, amuse, or surprise you.  May my blog be “a glorious celebration of all that has previously been uncelebrated.”

"Roses for my Mom," oil on canvas, 9x12''

September is almost here!

I will officially publish my first blog post on Friday!  

coming this september!

I'm so excited about my blog!  It's going to be awesome!