The Rebirth of Venus

Remember this lonely little Venus that I started during my 100 days of art challenge?  On a solitary journey towards becoming, arriving to the wilderness?  Yeah, she's been sitting every since, waiting.... on me.

I am drawn to the famous painting, "The Birth of Venus" by Botticelli.  It depicts the goddess Venus, having emerged from the sea as a fully grown woman.  Arriving to the sea shore upon a shell, aligned with the myth to explain her birth.  On her left, the wind god carries his bride towards the threshold, blowing the shell amongst a shower of roses, gently caressing her hair and the incoming waves that seamlessly break over the shore.  As Venus is about to step onto dry land, a hand maiden waits patiently for the goddess to come closer, reaching out to cover her shy naked body with a cloak. Venus' contrapposto stance depicts grace as she carefully leans on one hip, modestly covering her private parts, slightly revealing her sexuality.
 

It's been said that this painting "illustrates the birth of love and spiritual beauty as a driving force of life.  Once she lands ashore, the goddess of love will don the earthly garb of mortal sin", an act that could lead to the creation of a new life or the possibilities of an everlasting one.  Once draped in earthly garments does she become a personification of the church which offers a spiritual transport back to the pure love of eternal salvation?  In this case the shell upon which this image of Venus stands could be seen as a symbolic pilgrimage.  "The sea brings forth Venus just as the Virgin gives birth to the ultimate symbol of love, Christ."  Is Botticelli's Venus meant to represent the idea of divine love?

Rather than choosing one of the many interpretations offered for Botticelli's depiction of the Birth or Arrival of Venus, I think it's better to view it from a variety of perspectives.  This layered mythological, political, and religious composition was intended to portray the goddess as the epitome of beauty arousing humans to physical love at first sight, then inspiring intellectual love upon second glance.  After further investigation, one might be inspired to lift the mind towards the Creator.  Lets get lifted.

When I became a mother, I experienced The Rebirth of Venus.  I have my own ideas of what that means as I add my own layers to the many layers of this great classic.  I'll explain more about my motives as it progresses and as she emerges, but can I just say....I am so addicted to illustration as fine art.  It makes all the spit rush to my mouth....soul stirring artful storytelling at its' finest.  Food for my soul.

"The Rebirth of Venus"

WIP

And just in case you were wondering, my Venus arrives on a cowrie shell and my hand maiden, and my God who controls my wind, just so happen to be trees....anything less would be uncivilized.    

Day Four: Ahoy

In 2007 I finished the first draft of my soon to be published (fingers crossed and speaking it into existence) book.  Back then, the biggest project of my life was an extravagant book dummy that had to be finished before I graduated college.  I had three kids and was a full time student, trying to get that degree.  Life was in disarray, my load was heavy, and my knees were buckling.  I could not see the light at the end of the tunnel.  I was just walking blindly by faith.  I drew this picture of my kids and dedicated the 1st draft of my book to my three babies, urging them to never give up and to believe in themselves.

I just ran across this picture yesterday and realized that since then my boat has gotten a lot bigger.  I have more kids to haul, the waters are rougher than they were back then, and what didn't kill me made me stronger.  I've got muscles like a mug from the many voyages that I have been on in this lifetime!  There are still no paddles, my hands are too full to hold any.

I'm just holding on for dear life to my crew, trying to keep us all safely inside the boat, as we ride the waves on this river of chaos!  God is my Captain.

The storm has been upgraded, so I had to upgrade my boat.  Ahoy matey! 

Thar she blows!  LOL!

Sacrifice: Day Two

Sacrifice:  Forfeiture of something highly valued for the sake of one considered to have a greater value or claim.

I often do these word studies that lead me to much needed revelations.   Lately I have been feeling a sense of frustration about the process of becoming a woman.  Motherhood is a huge responsibility and with five kids, I'm pulled in so many directions that I don't know which way is up or down.  It's a constant struggle.  I try to do right by my kids, say the right thing, make sure I don't mess them up for life, but the truth is, I never really know what I'm doing.  Sometimes I find myself thinking about where I would be and what I would be doing with my life if I didn't have this huge responsibility and there was just me to think of.  I have so many hopes and dreams and things that I want to do in this lifetime, but time keeps passing me by.  I wake up and before I know it, it's bedtime and the things I hoped to accomplish towards my personal goals just get sat on a shelf for tomorrow, then tomorrow never comes.  Now I'm looking at a shelf full of unfinished business and the only word that pops out in my head is "sacrifice".

That word birthed my latest drawing.  "Sacrifice" has been a reoccurring theme in my life.  I know it's kind of weird but lately I've had this image in my head that I can't shake.  Me hanging on the cross beside Jesus.  I know, it's dramatic, but more times than I'd like to mention, that's exactly how I feel, like I'm suffering, hanging on a cross.  So I've finally gotten the image that's in my head, out on paper.

Now, I did a little research about the two men that were crucified with Jesus and found a quite wonderful story behind them.  They were both criminals and the one guy to His left was mocking Jesus with the rest of the sinners.  Silly rabbit, up there hanging with his Savior and he had the nerve to join the crowd.  But the beauty in this story is found with the criminal who was hanging on the right side of Jesus.  He spoke up for Jesus and proclaimed that He shouldn't be there because He had done nothing wrong.  Then as an act of faith, he looked over at Jesus and said, "Remember me when You come into Your kingdom."  And Jesus said to him, "Truely, I say to you, today you will be with Me in Paradise."(Luke 23:43)

 
Now when I think of sacrifice, there is no greater sacrifice than Jesus giving His life so that I might live.  Jesus was a beautiful green tree growing and thriving in the prime of His life when He was cut down.  He knew what was going to happen to Him, but He did it anyway.  He carried the tree that the soldiers cut down for Him, hung on it, and died so that my tree could continue to grow, forever.  And when the women were weeping with sorrow, mourning His predicament as He carried his cross through the streets, He told them, "Do not weep for me, but weep for yourselves and your children.  For the days are surely coming when they will say, "Blessed are the barren, and the wombs that never bore, and the breasts that never nursed," for if they do this when the tree is green, what will happen when it is dry?"  (Luke 23:27-31) Now if Jesus had to suffer so terribly when He was innocent, what should my sacrifice be?  Did He really believe that my life was greater than His own?  Clearly the right man was chosen for that task, and clearly the right woman was chosen for this task.  We all have our own cross to bear.
 

So I weep for myself and my children because I am a good mother.  And I will suffer because suffering is my blessing.  And I will be the woman hanging on a green tree, to the right of Him, defending Him until my last breath so that one day, I can be with Him in Paradise.  Gotta keep my eye on the prize and don't look back!  Let the church say Amen!  

The Force: Day One

Nov. 1st was the start date of my 100 days of art challenge.  To explain, a few of my art buddies and I have decided to vow to create something every day for 100 days and blog about the journey.  I've decided to work on something for a week at most, then move on to something else after a week to keep it fresh.  I'm going to try to blog as often as possible, at least weekly.  My plan is to spend at least an hour everyday creating something.  And I am already discouraged because I didn't have a free moment to myself until 11 pm last night and even then it wasn't really a moment to myself because I was drawing in the dark holding the baby trying to put him to sleep at the same time.  Seems like when I make up my mind to do something that I know will be good for me , some unknown force gets in the way and messes it all up for me.  I wanted to give up since the baby and my support system didn't seem to comply with my desires to take a few moments out of my day to fulfill myself, but instead, I kept pressing on... with one hand.  After erasing over and over again, I came up with this half way sucky drawing of how I feel right about now.  It's not what's really in my head, I still have to find a way to get the real image out but "The Force" is present in this rendition, so it's fitting.

I was trying to capture a mother's sacrifice.  I'm going to keep working at it this week to see if I can get what's in my head onto the paper.  I need to hire a nude model because I also realized after erasing so much that the lines were indented into the page, that I suck at drawing what I love to draw most, the woman's figure.  That's really the foundation of all my art.  That little figure that looks like it's morphing out of her chest came from all my erasure marks.  I thought it was kind of cool so I penciled it back in.  I'm gonna do something with it, I don't know what.

So what was supposed to be a relieving moment became a painful realization as always, that I have a lot of work to do to become the artist that I want to be.  But I be darned if I let "The Force" stop me from trying!  I'm gonna fake it till I make it and pray that the next 99 days are not as miserable as the first one.

Nesting: (verb) To create and settle into a warm and secure refuge.

Today, I'm 28 weeks pregnant with my fifth child.  It's quite . . . uncomfortable is the first word that comes to mind!  I am worn out.  Moving takes my breath away.  Everything from my chest down aches.  Every time I sneeze, cough, or laugh, I pee simultaneously (it just so happens that I have allergies and a great sense of humor).  I'm extremely tired and never seem to get enough rest.  I'm irritable and my patience is anorexic (it was already too thin).  Truthfully, there is only one thing that makes being pregnant enjoyable, and that's feeling the baby move.

It hasn't gotten to the point where the baby is pushing up against my lungs cutting off my oxygen, or jabbing a foot or elbow into my ribs yet.  The baby is not too big yet, just snug as a little bug in a rug.  When he changes position or stretches a little, I feel it and I have to admit, I love that feeling.  It's the same feeling that I was afraid I'd never feel again with my last pregnancy because I thought I'd be finished after four.  I got so sad when I thought I'd never feel that again.  And now that this is definitely the last baby, I savor each little movement.  There's not much fun involved in being pregnant, but there is so much joy in being a vessel for your unborn child.  It's amazing how the slightest movement can drown out the discomfort and make you feel nothing but love.

So my husband was trimming the shrubbery in front of our house and stumbled across this robin's nest.

 

When the kids brought it in the house to show me, I was in awe.  It was so beautifully and carefully constructed.  I'd never seen one so perfect.  It was the perfect size, shape, sturdy, and homey.  I admired the architect like you would that supermom that you occasionally get a glimpse of and compare yourself to.  My motherly instincts clicked into overdrive.  Making sure no one touched the eggs, I was angst ridden over what to do.  I could only imagine how the mother robin would feel coming back to what was a perfectly secure hiding space for her family when she left, to find out that there had been a security breach.  I couldn't move them too far, she may not find them.  And what if something else found them before she did?  I did the best that I could to tuck the nest with the four babies into the same tree, but my gut knew that my choice could never match the choice this mother had already made.  I instantly wished we had just left the jungle bushes growing erratically wild for this family's sake.

I did not sleep that night at all.  I kept agonizing over those four eggs as if they were my four children, who slept soundly in their beds.  My mind was thinking all sorts of things about my fears of my own nest not being big enough, clean enough, sturdy enough, homey enough, safe enough.  When the sun approached and the birds started chirping outside my window, I was still awake, wondering if the sounds of the constant tweets were the mother and father arguing over the fate of their children.  When my kids got home from school they came to me immediately to sadly report that three of the eggs were now broken revealing tiny bird fetuses and one egg was missing.

I was so sad.  I don't know what happened.  I don't know if the mother rejected them because they had been moved, or if some unknown predator had helped itself.  Regardless, in a matter of hours her family was torn apart.

Now I'm left feeling overwhelmed, unprepared, and too drained to do anything about it.  I hope the "nesting instinct"  that's supposed to arrive by the last trimester triumphs against these odds.  I've got five eggs to worry about now.  I have to keep reminding myself that if God provides for the birds, He certainly will provide for me and my growing family.  Now, if I could just get up the energy to rustle up some twigs...

Motherhood: The River of Chaos

"Chaos" pretty much sums it up! Yes, I am an artist, but I'm also the mother of four and a half children which basically means by the Fall, I will have my own starting line up. That's 5 kids! If I wasn't supposed to be anything else in this world, I know without a doubt that I am supposed to be a mom. Although it's a tad bit daunting, these little crumb snatchers of mine are truly my greatest works of art. There is certainly an art to being a mother and each of my kids are works in progress. I am constantly designing, sketching, painting, molding, and sculpting them into masterpieces and I am constantly having to erase and ball up the blue prints! They keep me going back to the drawing board, but they also keep me creative in more ways than I could ever imagine. I'll share our "creative exploits" from time to time under the heading "The River of Chaos". Until next time, we'll be rollin, rollin, rollin on the river!

(left to right: Damir 3yrs, Daj'zha 7yrs, D'zion 12yrs, De'kel 13yrs)