one hand, whole self

March 15, 2017 in REFLECTION

With a baby in arms, you often have to do things with just one hand.
It's tricky. It's a new skill to learn. It's a new rhythm of thinking and being.
And one hand doesn't mean you're putting in less work.

One hand, whole heart.

One hand, whole mind.

One hand, whole self.

My youngest has grown beyond the one-handed mothering phase, but the echo of that season carries far into the now. I'm always reminding myself that my motherhood is an integrated part of my being. It neither diminishes nor enhances. It just is, like the flavor of a soup, or the texture of a fabric.

One hand, whole self.

artist interview: ruby falls

March 08, 2017 in INSPIRATION

I do not think my creative process is unique; nor is it particularly static. The way I got to “here” might be unusual, or perhaps the method to my madness. But really what I do and how I do it is just a combination of curiosity and habit. I will want to know how something works — a particular camera, emulsion, process, etc — and then I work it forwards and backwards. i.e., this is how it works from beginning to end, this is what happens if you break down that protocol.

the view from the minivan

February 24, 2017 in REFLECTION

I pull the minivan up to the garage door, inching closer and closer until the headlights reflect back, burning into my retinas. Turning the key, all goes black. My neck and shoulders tense as I prepare to step into the cold. I fully intend to rush into my warm house as quickly as my feet can carry me.

Yet when I clamor down from my driver's perch and slam the door, I pause to look up, letting the fingers of the chill creep up my wrists and around my ankles.

About this time (when I usually come home to rest) I can see hundreds of stars on a clear evening. And this time of year, Orion shines down just above the trees in perfect view, as though he ran to greet me by the side of my car.

My heartbeat slows. A wisp of fog drifts slowly out of my mouth. I shiver.

As I inhale, my shoulders fall. More fog. More starlight. More wonder.

I hear my own footsteps, and warmth and incandescent light wash over me. I'm home.

artist interview: bonnie kaye studio

February 22, 2017 in INSPIRATION

When you turn your passion into a job, it’s hard to always see and remember the love. I have to find a balance of really leaning into the creative process, while making sure that it will pay my bills. It can be a slippery slope sometimes. It’s a similar issue as making something for yourself without inhibition versus making something for someone else with total awareness. I try to find a balance.

the suburban artist

February 15, 2017

I grew up in the suburbs of Boston. My suburbian experience as a child of educated parents has shaped my interests and experiences profoundly. And so, suburbia has affected my art.

And it continues to do so.

I live in a town much the same size as the one in which I grew up. The biggest difference is that it's surrounded by rural country. So the "city" has the same feel to me as my suburban upbringing, but with fewer sidewalks, less density, and less traffic.

And here I am, a mother of three, toting her kids around, minding her domestic business in what feels to me like a suburb.

The word "suburb" is often used to indicate something ill-designed, purely made for comfort, and insulated. It represents an aspirational lifestyle and closed-off sort of idealism.

And when we call art "suburban," what we usually mean is "boring."

But I hardly find the suburbs "boring." And art falls outside the politically charged, shocking or subversive is also not "boring." That certainly can be one of the purposes of art, but that is not often my aim.

Great art can come out of anywhere -- suburbs, cities, and country towns. And art can serve many purposes. There's room for the suburban in artmaking.