New art: "Give Us A Hug"

Did you get a chance to see my latest assemblage in May while my solo show was on exhibit? No worries: this way I can tell you the full backstory of "Give Us A Hug." Here she is... by day:

... and by night.

You might remember my great-grandmother inspired this piece -- or rather, I was inspired by explanations that might illuminate why Mickey became a mean drunk and a neglectful mother. I don't have those reasons, or even a photo of her as a young woman. So for this piece I painted a stand-in for Mickey...

... and explored the possibilities of why she spent more time drinking than parenting. Speaking of drinking, I created a faux-mercury glass effect in a glass from which I could imagine Mickey drinking whiskey.

Into the cup she went. And when I turned the glass on its lip, the image of Mickey-as-a-jellyfish fell right into place.

I wrapped her stinging tentacles around the wrist and fingers of baby doll arms, which stood in for Mickey's two daughters. Although Mickey is trying to drift away from her children, she can't: the tentacles anchor her to the children.

And the children are tethered to their mother as well. Barnacles and the crusty, sandy edges of the piece underline their unyielding bond to their mother.

Remember that Twyla Tharp quote? "Art is the only way to run away without leaving home."

I think that's why I sympathize with Mickey, even as I still wish I could time-travel to protect my grandmother from the fallout of Mickey's behavior. (And if I did, would that action create a Grandmother Paradox?) How do you run away without leaving home? Tell me in the comments or on Facebook.

Work in progress: barnacles and clinginess

My great-grandmother had both of her children by the time she was 22 years old. I got to thinking about that, and which direction my assemblage about her should go, on a gray day at the beach...

... and then I noticed the barnacles. They'll cling to whales, to rocks...

and I imagine Mickey found her kids clinging to her about as appealing as barnacles are to a boat owner. (Remember: she was not a Mother of the Year candidate.) I created my own using a papier mache recipe, and scattered them along doll arms.

Everything I've heard about Mickey sounds like two children were too early, and too much, for her. Her relatives told me Mickey constantly stashed the kids with her siblings or her father, to go out drinking. I'm going to add a drinking glass to the assemblage as well, one that I gave a faux-mercury effect.

But as I mentioned in the last post, I don't have an image of Mickey as a young woman, sober or not. So I'll use a stand-in image I painted over. More on that in the next post...

Work in progress: It came from the deep

I have lots of stories and photos of my mom's side of the family, but on my dad's side I have more stories than photos. That's one reason why my last three assemblages focused on my mom and her parents.

"Greener", which tells a story about my mother as a child

But lack of photos hasn't stopped me from working on a new assemblage about my dad's maternal grandmother. In my head I call her by her nickname, Mickey.

Not a pretty woman, or kind either. She grew up poor in rural South Carolina, and had a hard life, most of which was her fault. Her relatives described Mickey as a mean drunk who abandoned her kids and trashed two (maybe three) marriages. I wish I knew what her reasons were, horrible though they probably were, for lashing out at her kids and nearly everyone else.

Her harshness made me think of a cold sea with a rocky shoreline, which led me to thinking about barnacles.

And what do barnacles do? They cling. Much like kids do, even to a negligent mother. I'll tell you more about the barnacle thing in my next post.