Seemingly idyllic, the images of my daughter and I look back to romantic imagery of motherhood - mother and child sleeping, bathing, snuggling. However, these tender images are filled with thinly painted lines and subtle variations in color and quality. The differences in the lines are not concerned with experimentation in line variation. Instead, they are a commitment to my inhalations and exhalations. The colors used, while similar to colors often seen in a child’s room, are also the colors of medication prescribed for postpartum depression and postpartum anxiety. Images are held up by delicate structures that may or may not hold…  

Since becoming a mother 4 years ago, I realized I needed to completely change my art practice if I wanted to keep an art practice. I needed a way of working that would allow me to dip in and out. Armed with my iPhone, ink, a thin brush, and often as little as 20 minutes, I do something. Anything.


20 minutes. Incidentally, 20 minutes of mark-making or humming is enough time to soothe your physical and mental state. A breath in. A breath out. One line. Another. A simple, quick, accessible moment. I use the line work to calm my mind and nervous system during days of chaos and intense emotions. Marks echo, diverge, and reorder, affected by their proximity to other lines, the rhythms of the day, and the time I have available. The sheer endurance required to create lines mimics the endurance needed to raise a human.

Special thanks to the Douglas County Cultural Coalition, whose generous support made this work possible. Photo credits: Mario Gallucci.