My work always starts as hideous sketches. Like, really unsightly stuff. But they hold onto the wisp of an idea without the pressure of true representation. And the idea can gestate only as it happens in real time for me, for now.
I had a miscarriage in July.
It was a hideous sketch of something I really wanted to take shape, a vision of a baby born on my own birthday next year. How perfect. I had just informed my family (rather, Avi spilled the beans) at the beginning of our yearly gathering in Cape May, NJ. That night, things began to unravel inside of me. The Fates cut the cord, as they do.
The sketches I make sometimes never become anything other than what they are, they live only on paper. Not now, not this time.
It was very early, 5 and a half weeks or so, I had just begun to feel the classic symptoms. But I had noticed a day or two before that they seemed to have eased. Early pregnancy is cruel in that as miserable as it is, you want to feel it all. At least I do.
A finished piece always becomes something different than I imagined, which is why I like to keep sketches as they are and not work them into something to emulate on canvas.
The grief from this loss has come in waves, kind of like vertigo, I imagine. I would think I’m fine and then I’d find myself literally crying over spilt milk. I think I’m fine now, really.
I finished a painting last week called MOTHER. I started it before I even knew I was pregnant and finished after I lost it. The initial image was very different from what came to be. I made it to submit to a show about the future of architecture and energy systems, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how a mother is a home and how our children shape us. I couldn’t stop thinking about the natural world as OUR MOTHER and how we’ve taken her for granted, and yet she holds us, still. I couldn’t stop thinking about a future where we slow way down and root into the soil and become one with the landscape and just listen.
Avi shapes me in ways I couldn’t have imagined for myself, and in turn, I’m able to help shape him. Really, when I think about the future of architecture, I think about systems of support, interconnectivity, and respect. I think about beauty. And those thoughts may be too abstract for an art show on the future of literal architecture. But, I’m grateful for the prompt and where it’s brought me.
As someone who’s orientation to time is the past, the future often feels very abstract or like a dream. I get lost in untangling events that have already happened and these things fuel my work. I love to spend time in memory. But it’s often dark and heavy there. I think the future could look like collective care and nurture, returning to the earth and her offerings, and big shifts in our mentalities to simpler ways of living. These things are all possible no matter what is happening at a macro level within the structures of society and the modern world, and that makes me feel a little brighter.
I don’t know what the future holds for me and my family, and for US collectively, but we actually have some really precious answers. They might just look different than we imagined.
Keep sketching.
I learned through this experience that miscarriage (a very stupid misogynistic term), especially early loss, is really common and I was able to connect to several women who have also lost pregnancies. This made me feel a lot less like I did something wrong and that it was just my body’s way of terminating something that wasn’t viable. I’m working on trusting my body while I care for it. If you’ve gone through, or are going through something like this, please know that you’re not alone.
TEAR DROPS
💧Yellow in Union Market District is a new Levantine Cafe in DC, probably the best falafel I’ve ever had.
💧I’ve been listening to this song a lot.
💧New/Next film fest is happening Oct 3-6 at The Charles. I’m going opening night.
xx