i’m on fire, but i’m trying not to show it

Tiny Art Walk, Marshalltown, Iowa

i’m on fire, but i’m trying not to show it

plaster, wood, string, found objects, paper, gold leaf, hair 

For a long time I made work to fill a void. The work itself filled galleries and I tried to control many aspects of the viewer's experience. To create a visceral experience with art is seemingly difficult. I longed for my work to be a core memory for those who paid witness to it.. The work felt larger than life at times and my abilities to make it seemed endless, each piece bigger than the last. 

Seven years ago my bones started to ache and things I used to be able to do felt monumental and physically impossible. I dug into motherhood and used the energy and strength I did have towards raising our girls and making a home for our family. Creating the domestic bliss we all strive for, or at least portray on socials . Now my work was keeping my children alive, healthy and capturing them living their best lives. I shared, often over shared, a glimpse into our lives. I found such beauty in the still moment of what often can be perceived as a mundane existence of motherhood and an ordinary childhood. I found beauty in the everyday struggle. Living was my work.  I always thought I would someday have more time, energy and physical ability to make my ‘profound’ and ‘compelling’ work again. As the years went on my bones seemingly burned hotter and headaches controlled my days. I found out my bones and organs were growing hemangiomas causing them to deform, break and press on important nerves, tissue and organs. I have had a craniotomy to relieve pressure on my brain and a spinal reconstruction and fusion to save my spinal cord that was being compressed and causing loss of leg function. I have endured three rounds of radiation in the hopes to stop the hemangiomas from growing. 

My bones feel like they are on fire all the time and I am endlessly tired. 

I am trying hard to find the beauty in the scars, the magic of science and the skill of my doctors. I am trying to accept the loss of my hair and my abilities to do simple everyday tasks. I try to answer the everyday question, ‘how are you doing?’ 

I often feel stuck, halfway up the stairs, I can't make it up but can't fathom going back down. I love all things beautiful. I love aesthetics, symmetry, and design. These things all inform how I see my life, how I make work,  how I take a photograph, and how I try to fix the ugly things. I can’t fix my bones and my body, but if I could I would like to think I could fill the gaps with gold and this is how the world would see me. I would sweep my troubles under the stairs and air out all my dirty laundry and fill all the broken pieces with gold.