Nest: Demeter

Lately, my thoughts have been consumed with nests: twigs and strings and bits of laundry lint. "Demeter" is a work I made about a year ago, but wanted to see it again after coming across this brainstorming entry in my old journal:

“I made her green so she is no discernable race, just luminous. The beetle eyes of her gasmask are for protection. The sparrows roosting in her hair are children, messengers, guardians. She cradles her eggs with a firm and gentle hand. She is stoic, mysterious, organic. As I painted her I realized I wasn’t painting a mother, I was painting The Mother. She is not an amorphous, faceless, cantaloupe breasted figure of fertility—as if motherhood were as simple as breeding. I thought about my mother. Lioness. Motherhood isn’t just about cells dividing or prescribed amounts of nurturing: it’s teaching, protecting, punishing, honesty, sacrifice, patience, ingenuity, tradition. It is ancient, it’s frightening, it’s inspiring. Originally, I had considered rendering her with an open ribcage, the juicy womb and guts exposed to illustrate her creative nature but decided against it. I chose the nest instead. I didn’t want “mother” to be watered down to a biological function, drawn out in strict anatomical terms. To me a nest says home, nursery, treasure, a cache. She holds on to that nest and whatever inhabits it whether it be eggs, children, ideas, friends, career, creative endeavors, ritual, artwork—She will protect it ferociously. It’s a cougar den. Maybe this isn’t about the act of motherhood, but a respect for the tremendous and sometimes dark responsibility of being a Creatrix? Maybe this painting is really a prayer.” March 3rd 2007