Thursday, October 30, 2014

cycle, spiral, repetition, Dear Mary

Dear Mary, 

Please excuse the informality, it is not from any disrespect, quite the opposite, with great admiration for your work and your life's transformation. 

I write to you as my one-and-some-month old naps, tucked in his stroller, breathing to the sounds of the waves.

I have listened to your music and the NPR interviews and am interested in the connection you speak of: not a relationship, but in relation. I write this letter in hope of and in search of this connection. I am a thirty-six yr. old artist who happens to be raising two children, one age 9 and the other is the baby I already mentioned. I'm looking for a way to "wake up" to my parenting reality and truly see it as an art form that it is. 

Sitting here however, I feel infinitesimally small. I go about most of my day picking up socks, cleaning dust balls from the corners, singing to my son, dancing with my daughter, cooking (and occasionally reflecting on all of it in the studio.)

I realize how we undervalue our own experience, (Until I listened to your songs, that is.) "Mercy Now," played on pandora as I was casting soaps of George Washington's profile.
The song, the lyrics but more so, the way it was sung sparked a connection. 

My hope is that you agree to having a correspondence like this one in which I send videos, images, text, that I find relevant to your songs. Mostly, I want to share with you rmy mothering process, something I neglect. It is unique to me and to the two individuals we label, my children. My hope is you can find some resonance, some idea of perhaps what your biological mother went through, birthing- but more so to expand upon your process; seeing personal images, sounds of baby nursing in the middle of the night, bathing. The connection all human beings are naturally programmed for. I'm not sure any of us get this ideal experience as life is fraught with trouble and suffering. None-the-less, would you be open to this dialogue?

My dear art partner, Anitra Haendel, committed suicide the month my son was born last July. She was my listener, my dialogue, my art partner for over a decade and a helpful ear while I raised my daughter. I treasure the letters now as I understand their significance beyond their materiality. They are that true connection whether they speak of shit or birth/death. 

Thanks for your time in reading this letter.
With great admiration,


Attached image is of mine and my daughter's umbilical cord, the color of which I found significant in our birth process. 

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