artist series :: a conversation

a few weeks ago Madelyn asked me for an interview… to join in her artist series over at Persisting Stars. i was honored. and then… i didn’t know what to say.

am i an artist? what does that mean to me? to others?

the entire interview process was amazing, and it revealed many things to me about myself, things i never knew. i love how words, thoughts, emotions, questions, and photography can do that to me. i would highly recommend reading her questions, and using them as a writing prompt for your own creativity. you’ll be amazed at where they take you. i know i was.

if you’re interested you can read my interview here.

being seen

in a matter of weeks i’ll attend a reception in an art gallery. my photography will be hanging there. many photographs from many of my friends will be hanging there. i’ll be surrounded by women i admire, women i have only known online for the past few years. women i have never met in real life.

and i don’t know why, but i worry about being seen. will you recognize me? the real me? really? it’ll be the first time i step out from behind my computer.

that’s me. camera shy and introverted. it’s all good as long as i’m holding the camera. my security blanket, my way to get space while in a crowded room. it has something to do with my hands. they flutter when my cheeks turn crimson, when i think about how i can type much faster than i can speak.

i am anything but boisterous. or loud. infact, i’m downright quiet. but that’s no surprise. it’s my energy. you’ll feel it, right? the way i watch and smile and blend into the wall making myself seen only when i want to.

there is this give and take in friendships.
there is trust.

there is this amazing community that surrounds me, and i’m ready to walk right up to and say ‘hey! it’s so good to finally meet you!’ and truly mean it. (and then hope that i don’t trip and fall in my heels… my god, what the hell am i going to wear anyway?!)

i must say that i’m very excited to come face to face with so many amazing women. it’s truly an honor. but i’m nervous. i know it’s silly, but it’s true.

*and if you are planning on attending the Mom 2.0 Summit and/or the art exhibit on Friday February 19th, please email me so we can be sure to meet!

mothering the mother

i am the child of many mothers.  women of the neighborhood.  my mom’s best friends. the recipe clubs. the book swaps.  the mustard  yellow kitchen phones with stretched out cords.

i speak to them now as an equal. somewhere along the way, we crossed a threshold, i was unknowingly indoctrinated into their club. we are all mothers.  i have my own circle now.  and with each day that passes i find myself fluctuating between being someone’s child and being mother to my own son.

it’s a constantly shifting floor.
one that is tricky to walk on.

any letter that begins with “My Little Meredith…” is going to wreck me. i know this now. it’s going to fill my heart with love and truth and empty it with honesty and reality.

“You were always like a mother to me, ” i tell her, “i’m not sure if you knew that.” of course she knew that. she was there in the late 70’s with the shag carpet, the atari, the tuna casseroles and dorothy hamill haircuts.

she knows more than i know. she knows my mother from the inside of parenting. just as i know my friends now. i wish i could be the grown-up version of me back then, i wish i could sit in on their circles not at their feet as i often was, but at their side and know them as the women they were. 

i wish… i wish…

“You were always special to me,” she says. and years of sleepovers, backyard swingsets, and clotheslines by the creek zip past my mind.

she was not much older than i am now.

~~~~

a friend of mine told me recently that she was thinking of this the other night. this role i’ve stepped into. the go-between for my mother’s friends. she thought of this while looking at her own daughter. she thought of this while thinking of our own circle of cell phones, emails, book clubs, and blessingways.

it wrenches your heart with sadness to think of this, our possible future. our own children calling those who helped raise them. crossing time and roles to embrace what has past and what is yet to come.

today and always, i know this:
life cannot be lived without hope.

what would you tell her?

watch this video essay by katherine center

…and then think about what you would tell her…

“i’m proud of you.”

say it again and again before it’s too late

so she’ll always remember.

~

i am honored to be a part of this amazing project.

 

collective genius

often it seems that both hands are full of light and dark, but good always prevails. i have to believe this. i’ve seen it with my own eyes. i know it to be true with my own heart.

i feel blessed to be shining on the edges of this collective genius. to witness this community from the sidelines, cheering it along, fanning the flames from my own little corner of the world. all this makes me very proud of the power people recognize in themselves. this is more than just a gathering of amazing women, all creating something positive and powerful… this is the collective genius.

this type of art show: mixed media ~ woman focused… is made of magic. it’s the most real kind of magic imaginable. this type of project is what keeps my heart afloat.

light like air.
light like sunshine.

and so i just wanted to pass it on and share the love. if you are close to Houston, you should try to stop by!

“Tide shifts created by a community.
A community created by moms.

At this year’s summit we’ll honor this community and its milestones at the Friday night event with this one-of-a-kind art exhibit at the FotoFest gallery.”

blood from turnips

here it is. day 23 of 365. the first of (unfortunately) many days that i simply don’t want to see. (woe is pitiful me) i don’t want to show or talk or feel. this is the winter me. the realist. the facts and numbers on the spreadsheet that just don’t add up. i knew this day would come, but so soon? i didn’t think it’d be day 23.

somedays are just wrong. 

waking at 4am to the heat pump thumping in the vents like a broken heartbeat. ba-bump. ba-bump. ba-bump.

waking to the blood flow pumping migraine in my brain to match the rhythm.

waking to tight jaws and nightmares of transmissions falling out of cars, hitting heavy on the asphalt, leaving children stranded at school.

single motherhood is wrought with worry.

i curse the sun that burns my retinas today.  magnifying the migraine, the warmth makes me angry. the looming 70 degrees. where the fuck is winter? we came through 100+ days of 100+ temperatures. call me crazy, but i want some cold weather please. some sort of reprieve.

this is my city. 
this is where i am.

this is me shooting out the sunroof while crossing the river on my way to the car shop. i am mumbling @$!#% as i take this shot. eyeing gauges and levels (both mechanical and emotional)

watch out, i need someone to blame.
(and i’m a spitter)
fuck you, city.

i wonder how it will let me go. this city. the place i found best friends, motherhood, family, a career, a reliable car mechanic and a favorite hair stylist. these things all matter, when looking at the big picture. these things are the glue that hold me together.

apparently i am a petty bitch in this city.
i run on survival mode in this city.
i’m tired. and i’m ready to start living.

but this city, how will it let me go? with a flood, similiar to how it gave me life?

this city and i are not on speaking terms today. this is me in a weak moment. the weight of single parenthood causing an ulcer. this is me in a weak moment staring blankly at a $2500 new transmission. this is me squeezing blood from turnips.

today, it’s all the same.
it all stains red.

where i go

when i feel unsure of my place, or myself … i seek out space. i am endlessly trying to recreate that sensation of the coast: feeling small in a vast world. i have a strong need for mother earth to put me in my place. there’s nothing quite as comforting as that.

when the beach is not near, i create the next best thing. an open field, a canopy of trees, a mountaintop, or the blooms in a garden. i can get lost and find myself anywhere as long as i have the optical illusion of space.

visit me at shutter sisters today and share your story, your image of space.

double pisces

you are more like me than you’re willing to admit.
us. two pisces.
father daughter.
we ebb and flow, opening closing, pushing forward and retreating.
i was a spitting image of you as a child.
and now after nearly 35 years, we are recognizing our similarities.
reflections are often more beautiful than what is real.

the sum of me

if you scream FUCK! at the top of your lungs out the windshield it goes nowhere. in fact, the words bounce right back at you.

scared of your own anger, frustration, sadness.

{this was october 2009}

now i sense a shift. i cannot undo what has been done. i can only be me now, whoever that may be in this moment. i can only accept that and move forward, trailing words and images behind me.

{this is the shift. january 2010. freedom}

i stumbled on this, this most fascinating site that scrambles your blog (or whatever web address you want)  into a cloud of words.

i sighed and typed in the~spirit~of~the~river and i found myself holding my breath… wondering how many times the word FUCK! turned out in print. wondering what the sum of me, this four year old blog, looks like in something as beautiful as a word cloud.

i felt so much anger for such a long time, and so much sadness.
but i saw light, and felt so much hope during those times too.

i thought about all of this while waiting for the words to reveal themselves. a bit like peering into the mirror unsure of what flaws would be seen. but what i saw made me smile and then i quickly realized that this is truly who i am. and i waved to myself, somewhat relieved that i am still what i think i am. not lost. just me.

the big words jumped out boldly:
LIFE  LOVE  CHERISH  REMEMBER

but the little words can’t hide their strength:
FREE  CALM  SHIFTING  CHANGING  INTENTIONS

project :: life

i always carried my camera with me everywhere anyway. if you must know, i’m ridiculously cruel to my camera. tossing it in the car, banging it around. but please know that i am ridiculously generous to my camera too. showing it things most people walk past.

this project 365 is changing my focus.

sure sure, i’m on day 8. yeah yeah, 252 days from now i might be whistling a different tune. but focus? wow. this is more than a photo a day project, it’s quickly becoming project :: life.

i find myself thinking about my day. actively. not just being the drone sleepwalking through my day just to muddle through. not like last year, where i thought i had focus. where i pretended to focus on anything other than life in order to survive. that, i’m afraid, is called distraction.

this…. this is different.

this is diving deep and staring life right in the face. i feel like i am an active participant once again in my life. that i seek out beauty to remember. and not just to document. but to live.

moments to cherish. real life.

many times during my day i think “what is the one thing i would want to remember from today?” even if it was a total shit day. even if the cat coughed up hairballs and the fridge was almost as empty as my gas tank.  each and every day there is atleast one thing to remember and cherish. (that is not to say that some days i won’t be documenting the grey hairs or the broken transmission). this is not a pair of rose colored glasses. this is life for real.

today we bounced afterschool. we went bananas in one of those indoor inflatable crazy bouncey warehouses. and that was my photo for today: river in mid-air.

but it is so much more than that freeze frame. the moment to cherish was the quick drive home to ward off the asthma attack. the moment to cherish was the love of being his mother and all that it entails. the moment to cherish was the worry washed free. the moment to remember was parking next to a VW full of love with him in my backseat chattering away and my heart full of love facing all this unknown. the moment to remember was the hug he threw around my knees after stepping out of the car.

what i realized is that it’s all tied together like photos in a book.
all of these moments.
becoming life.
and i’m grateful for the eyes to see it.