When I first had my son, I experienced these incredibly profound, yet ambivalent moments of both joy and sadness. I didn't have the alertness, time, or energy to paint or even step foot in my studio for more than a year, but what I had was time on my phone while I nursed my son. So, I would write -- nothing lengthy or marvelous -- just snippets of my thoughts on motherhood, little phrases, or moments, and I titled the iPhone note "Letters to You."
Tonight, as I was worked alone for five long hours in studio, my husband would periodically send me pictures of our son laughing and a having a great time at his grandparents home, mashaAllah. My heart would go up and down as I wished to be right there enjoying those moments with him, but also felt so grateful that he was able to thrive on his own with other family members. I thought of his smile constantly as I painted; I chuckled to myself as I would remember something hilarious he said; I could feel the softness of his cheeks from all the kisses, all day long; I narrated everything I was doing as I worked on my paintings out loud as if he was right there . . . it has become such a habit now because we talk about everything, mashaAllah.
After several paintings of a similar color palette, I made these two triangular paintings with quite a different color scheme with so many rich colors. As I stepped back to take a look, I realized something -- all of these paintings I have been making the past 5 weeks WERE my letters to my son, subhanAllah. I had been looking for something explicit or literal, or just, something else that would represent my first two years of motherhood, but this was it. And as always with this magical alchemy that art is, the struggle of being a mother for the first time has been expressed in the most beautiful, colorful ways with this new series of paintings I've made.
I am excited to share my "Letters to You" series once it's all complete! For now, I hope you enjoy the snippets :)
Peace & Blessings.