In An Extra-Forestial Walkway's narrative, I noted it was inspired by a (very trying) commission piece named A Birth in Process. Here she is! The commission came from a new...
In An Extra-Forestial Walkway's narrative, I noted it was inspired by a (very trying) commission piece named A Birth in Process. Here she is!
The commission came from a new mother. She wanted a piece that not only celebrated the utter joys of a newborn, but also commemorated the physical pain and not so joyful realities that naturally escort birth and motherhood. As a mother to a toddler myself I can intimately relate to these emotions; something she wanted me to draw inspiration from.
The piece would sit across the parents’ bed, to wake up and sleep to. That, I found immensely challenging. Immensely challenging. How can I create something that captures dark aspects of birth without turning it into a daily emotional trigger, a negative one. See what I mean? That really messed with me.
(NB: Aesthetically, the room is a dusty pink and beige palette.)
I spent a significant amount of time staring at the blank canvas. My mind overrun with so many thoughts, my awareness was ravaged.
My starting point was envisioning a painting that appears to be morphing. As though in a constant state of growth and revelation. The more it grows, the more it uncovers new things. Charming, beautiful things.
The middle textured shimmery part represents a new life growing open and uncovering brightness. The smaller growth patches are unexpected revelations. The bumps top left are yet to be revealed: things a mother is to learn in time.
Importantly, top right are dried eucalyptus leaves. They represent the healing process; the child fertilises the cure of its own birth. Yes.
What about the dark aspects, you may ask. Despite its bright exterior, there is in fact a textured black layer lining the painting’s base. The idea is that “dark” memories of child bearing ultimately get submerged by the child’s growth and the discoveries; whilst the darkness is never fully forgotten, it grows less and less seen and felt. Time.
I hope you now see why I have named it A Birth in Process.
Both parents absolutely loved it, the mother added “this morning when I woke up it gave me happiness”