Survival of the Nurtured

Included here are monoprints that I created with this mother and child theme in mind.  Monoprints are a fitting medium for this theme since they are unique, but, like all prints, they are created within a series – the potential for replication is the inherent quality – the raison d’etre – of this artistic process. Every individual is unique and, yet as humans, we fulfill sacred roles and duties that remain unchanged over the millennia.  My monoprints were experiments with a gelli plate on which I placed cut paper to create the figure of a woman holding an infant.  I reused the paper scraps for each messy print.  I based my imagery on an old photo of myself as a baby held in the arms of my babysitter’s husband.  Fitting this Advent reflection, his name was Joseph.  He worked the printing presses at the Kansas City Star and Times newspaper and was able to come home in the afternoons where he would join Margaret, his wife, in the life of the home: working around the house and garden, watching children, and making dinner.  They had eight children of their own who, when I knew them, were teenagers and young adults.  Margaret and Joseph opened their home to more.  In a time before home daycares were popular and professionalized, Margaret took care of a few extra children – my mother paid her in cash every day – and often her grand babies and, occasionally, a niece.  My own mom worked as a physician and recognized this ideal situation in our neighborhood.  She began taking me when I was two weeks old.  Over the years, Joseph repeatedly told me “You were tiny!”  I grew up in this large, stable Catholic family as much as I did my own family.  My dad was a pathologist working long hours in a hospital lab.  When he was home, I was delighted. He was fun and indulgent.  I cherish my memories of him and also wish I had had more ordinary time with him.  I share these details to make the story of the holy family resonate.  Fathers and others have a crucial part in the nurturing even though our images may coalesce upon the beautiful young mother.  For my monoprints, I chose pearlescent turquoise to invoke the blues used in Marian imagery.  I like the way the “messiness” of these prints gives a sense of movement and action.  Babies squirm out of our arms. Toddlers, like kittens and puppies, are in constant motion until they collapse into sleep.  Life with children is often messy, imperfect, and unfinished as there is little time and energy left over after meeting their needs.  The children may be exuberant and high spirited; they may be fussy, sick, or hurt.  

      These figurative compositions are very different from calm still life studies.  We identify with the people; we do not merely marvel at the illusionistic skill of the artist.  We enter the  visualization of a story that echoes through time.  “Trompe l’oeil” – the French phrase that refers to realism that is so effective that it “tricks” the viewer into believing they are looking at the real thing instead of paint on a canvas – is not what we want in these unsettled, changing times.  I, myself,  do not want to say “trompe l’oeil” aloud since it sounds so similar to the current president’s name and emphasizes “deception.”  Now, as we are being misled and lied to, and we do not know whom to trust or which of the many outrages to focus upon, we need images that lead us back to universal truths.  We need to be reminded to take care of each other.  Mother and child imagery conveys the message to hold each other close.  You are both the beloved baby and the one who bestows the love, care, and protective strength that nurtures another.  This moment is fleeting, but it will be returned to in memories and many iterations to come.