I made a draft for this about 6 months ago, and I'm finally writing it. This is motherhood.
In the time since making the book I've had moments of revelation about what I've been doing, and how my brain works as a mother and a creative. Since highschool and my discovery of the dadaists (thank you Jim Ponti!) I've loved the idea of using what exists to confound, to turn things on their ear a bit, and to bring new light.
I loved doing collage and assemblage in high school. I created massive scrapbooks from our classroom's library of Art News and Art Forum, and combined them with my subscription issues of Details, Interview, Sassy, Jane, and Bazaar. I used found materials in my undergraduate work, finding inspiration in my professor Barry Krammes.
Coming home from undergrad with a bachelor of science in basically sculpture, ie: "3-D Design" I realized I needed a real job, and I didn't feel I had any skills (my dad had wanted me to major in English, or graphic design, tou·ché dad) but I decided I should go to some kind of trade school, and had a friend at the time who was a massage therapist, which I considered. And I thought about beauty school because I knew where one was close-by. But I decided on floral school, because in a twinge of self-knowledge I realized I didn't want to touch people that much. Knowing myself now, I also know I do not have the countenance for either of the other professions, so it was a wise choice on many fronts.
My first job was working for the floral school I attended, but I'd been the sarcastic jokey student, and had been pigeon-holed as that character as a worker. I also had a chip on my shoulder as a young person feeling that kind of position was beneath me, shame on that. But I moved on to work in a grocery store in my hometown, running into former highschool classmates who were now investment bankers while I was wrapping their roses in tissue wearing an apron.
I had also started a clothing line at the time, that was just starting to help me get off my feet. I decided to go back to school again, this time to get some business knowledge. I was able to transfer credit to the community college and get an associate degree in marketing, which I rarely use because I absolutely hate self-promotion (not a good character trait for an entrepreneur).
As I collected materials for my recycled clothing line, I realized was also finding myriad random other treasure that was simultaneously useful and worth something, so I dipped my toe into the antique dealer business. I was a rarity at the time being in my 20's trying this out, when most of the other dealers at the time were of retirement age. But I freaked out my first time around and put in my notice the very same month I started, feeling sure I could never continue finding the girth of goods I had initially presented in my booth. Luckily, I gave it another go a few months later, and the mall I sold through did not penalize me for my lack of sure-footing.
I made a connection through my work at that mall that lead to my residence within another shop--including a public-facing studio for a time--and that was very fruitful season. Following a heartbreak, I abruptly decided to fold that project up, and go back to grad school for fiber art.
My advisor was hoping I would continue in fashion work, I think envisioning a grand fashion show at the end of my time. But I was dissatisfied with the feedback I got while doing all-to-familiar work. I did not want to be working with found material and generating "nostalgia" as a basic critique. And I did not really know what my voice was, what I had to say. I started to generate work from my own experience, mining my heartbreak, my loss, but also my humor and resilience. On a holiday break I happened to smell an amazing perfume ingredient, and in that brief encounter my direction was set. I combined my story with scent, and presented work that was text-based highlighted with fragrance, using found materials but twisting them in new ways, combining them to become more my own.
I came home from grad school, still feeling unskilled, but wanting to continue in my creative pursuits. This I will acknowledge is a position of privilege. I had parents that helped me pay for undergraduate school completely. I also had parents who let me live in their house during my twenties without payment, which allowed me to go to business school, and pay for materials for antique businesses without having to turn a profit. I am still currently paying for grad school, but I was at least wise enough to force myself through the 3-year program in 2 years, and give back some of the loan amount instead of taking it all just because it was available. I now have a husband with a good job who helps pay for living expenses, though as a mother, and childcare provider (and pretty bad housekeeper) I do bring a value that is often not quantified.
A friend offered me a space in the back of her shop to open my own, and I transformed it into a studio and storefront. This was a nice piece of what I had had in the residency before graduate school, and what I had in the antique mall spaces, but with a new element I had not yet enjoyed--the freedom to frame my work-- and my vision for STUFF or things I made, or both, within four walls that were relatively unrestricted. I liked being able to "curate" the music, the openings and the food, and the air.
At this point in time, I met my husband, and my work continued to take more biographical directions. I don't know how this became a meandering walk through my creative journey, but here we are. I closed my studio after about a year, and soon thereafter became a wife and mother, which is the timeframe this book comprises. A picture of what I thought about as a baby grew inside me, and how I had to now paint a picture of growing up for one, and now two children, and shape and contour their lives, no pressure.
Here's a link to where the book is being sold: ETSY
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