Finding Your Stomach

10 years ago today, my mother passed away.

Even though this page from my illustrated novel is not finished, it feels right to post it now. What is ever really finished anyway?

I have learned that you can have the most devastating loss and your gut can still be there in the morning, or even 10 years later - not just in tact, but even stronger.

You never walk the same path twice.

 It is an enormous privilege to spend extended periods of time with middle school students who are growing almost as fast as an infant's brain.  I can literally see them growing, both in height and intellect. I care so deeply about these students, it physically pulls at my heart. While I was on a run the other day, one of the eerily warm 60 degree January days, I felt light opening out of what some people call my heart chakra. It was an orange light. I painted a quick sketch of it (below.) I think the weather and a hardy run helped, but I attribute it to thinking about the enormous responsibility of being someone's teacher. I was not on drugs, everyone, just warm weather endorphins and sensing a real connection with my students! After the awful obligatory task of reducing a student's learning in art class to a letter grade, I set to reading my mini-surveys they filled out at the end of the semester. I realize more deeply how the smallest and biggest choices I make in the classroom can impact a student. No letter grade or scoring rubric will show that. I love these young people and I'm learning how to show that.

Another part of teaching art to middle school students is emphasizing the importance of respecting your space and the materials you use. Sometimes the emotional maturity needed to perform these tasks (i.e., participate in clean-up time) can only be described through theatrical interpretation by Paul Rudd:

Woman in the Wind Who Has Lost Her Nose

My yoga teacher said today, "Peel away the things that no longer serve you." That immediately meant to me that I should be peeling away the tension in my right hip, and all of the muscles around it. Blasted runner's hips!

 "Car Ride from Bird's Point of View" Graphite on Paper, c. 1989.

I did this while also thinking about all the things I've been purging this past month since I've gotten back from Mexico. This included old clothes, pointless grudges, obsolete grad school binders, and dust collecting on the top edge of hanging picture frames. I also thought about my digital clutter that is still peeling away: useless photos, documents, doubles of almost everything, incorrect formats, mystery articles and forms that I downloaded (in my sleep, maybe?) 

One of the nice things about peeling away what you don't need is unearthing what it is that does serve you...namely, an envelope (analog, not digital) of your childhood drawings that your mother kept.

"Woman in the Wind Who Has Lost Her Nose" Ink on Paper, c. 1990.

Here is this week's picks from years 7 and 8 of my childhood. These are clearly the years when one has an acute sense of ladies' shoulder pads and a fascination with things in flight.

Awareness of the placement of shoulder seams? Check.
Understanding of knees and elbows? In Artistic development.

You can see through to the other side of the paper a little bit where my mom had dutifully written  "Jean Age 8" and "Jean Age 7".  For the piece I am titling, "Woman in the Wind Who Has Lost Her Nose," I am willing to believe I was onto the next drawing and had forgotten to add the suggestion of a nose. I am also willing to believe that I did not worry myself with things that did not serve me. In this case, it was a nose. The image is better without it. I will take this as a lesson from my 7 year old artist-self: Don't bother with things you don't need, move on to the next project, and just keep drawing out what you see around you.