When I was ten years old, I realized who I was while I was riding my bike to the top of my street; my personal existence opening up to me like an eyelid's first blink in the morning. Up until that point I assume that my life was much as I observe the lives of my own children now: a procession of days and experiences, not particularly recalled but rather, as the dripping of candle wax onto a table, adding to the patina of the wood—itself scraped away nightly without consideration. Even now I will ask my young son what he learned at school that day and his answer is invariably, "Nothing." What he did at his friend's house is also nothing. Did he have fun with his grandparents? He doesn't know. There is no examination of self; there is simply the live wire of the moment.
As a child I recall my own mother claiming that she had eyes in the back of her head that gave her “mother vision:” a sort of second sight that had only to do with me, an omniscience of what I was doing when she couldn't see me, of what I was going to do that I was going to try to keep from her, of what I was thinking or feeling. I could hide nothing from her because of this mother vision. Partly I felt menaced by this claim, and partly it comforted me. The images that I have selected for this exhibit include recent work; those in metal boxes portray what I feel are crowded, dark, and elusive aspects of self. They are seen from both sides, but because of the darkness of the scenes, one’s focus remains inward—literally. You can see into, but not quite through, the piece. The images housed in Plexiglas have significant space around them, and light shines through. You can see just how the images are made, and these consider the self in its outward expression—equally layered and complex, but more accessible.
In mothering and in art-making I am constantly combing through memories, sifting through ashes in search of lost valuables. These are images of my own children, but they are also images of myself, of my projections and my inner life. They are my mother vision. They go into the ashes.