Uncertain Times, Uncertain Measures

My studio has been very quiet in the mornings. Usually, I am in the office chair early since my son is an early riser. My husband is an early guy too, but as an Ocean Lifeguard he has no choice. Since news of the oil spill tragedy in April, we have made a conscious effort to swim and play in the waves as often as we can. Admittedly, I had visit the beach low on the priority list. The Atlantic Ocean has been a constant for me since we moved to South Florida when I was five years old.
My childhood memories, like most, have the good and bad as I grew.  But I retreated to the beach and the Everglades as I nursed the pain of growing up with a mother with cancer. Her mortality challenged my frontal cortex before my brain could grasp abstract concepts. The salty Atlantic nursed my wounds.

When she finally died in 1996, having lived with cancer for over ten years, I was living in the mountains of Colorado. I remember, upon returning to Florida, how my ocean trips were healing during the phases of accepting death. Now that I live back here in South Florida, I still feel the same healing, and, perhaps in part to the ongoing parts of her absence.
Usually these days, I am chasing after a four year old; my feelings are mixed with the desire for him to have similar childhood memories of bonding with the Ocean, just as my husband and I have through out our lives. We grieve for those in the Gulf; my son suggested someone take a helicopter and drop buckets of dawn soap in the Gulf. As we wait to see if our coast line is effected by the oil spill, I have continued to photograph the Atlantic's mighty beauty. Color and Black and White. I am thinking on Velvet Fine Art Paper.
Photography, as an emotional medium, eases my sadness. I am not sure if I sketched or painted this same image I would feel the same peace. What is it about Photography that as a tunnel for expression is different than other mediums?

Did I have a relaxing weekend?

In effort to put to rest any questions about the bliss of working and raising children, I am here to share my typical day. Weekends, weekdays time does not seem to matter much. I have an ongoing list of to do's that I am constantly multitasking just so I can use my BIG sharpie: declaring vistory on completing something. I am sorry to also say that for the majority of families out there men have an advantage of career advancing that women do not. I am not debating; it is a fact unless you can afford a full time nanny or are blessed with a grandparent/auntie/family member who would never accept money. Few professional women use their weekends or non-office days for personal work or time. So, on my Saturday, after early morning hours in the yard with the family, I rushed to get some work time in before the afternoon when I would be the primary parent again. My personal time is spent working on photography. I have the occasional mom friend's lunch; I take my son to play dates and places of interest. As I drink my 4th coffee of the day, I am off to the trenches of Photoshop-ing versus "Mom what should we do now?"

I love both my jobs, don't get me wrong. I just wish as women we had more of a chance to be a full time mother and a professional. In a recent article in Outside Magazine, many Olympic athletes had a blurb about being regular folk describing a a typical schedule. Each of the men stated they worked out extensively over the weekend. The only woman and only athlete that rose at 4am everyday to get her workouts in. For this alone, I think she should earn some sort of medal. She designed her day around the children and work.

As a working woman artist and mother, I too attest to the early morning opportunity to reclaim the person I am when I am not too busy being mom. All you Zen Masters will argue we are who we are all the time; maybe so, but in the misty morning watching the sunrise over the wetlands that were once Florida, I am truly myself. Ahhhh, feeling so free.