Making home is a challenging undertaking. I wish I could flit about the house effortlessly tucking corners, tying loose ends, dusting, arranging in a snap front floral housecoat, rosy cheeked and eager to please, completing all tasks in the morning with time to spare for headier pursuits the rest of the day. Instead I am bogged down. It feels impossible to get things right and the tasks seem endless. What encapsulates this, I think, is a photo I took after installing curtains in my toddler’s bedroom in a less than ideal apartment we rented once. I knew we would not be there long but still I had to try and make it cozy for her. The walls were so brittle and hanging a curtain rod would require more than the standard effort. I remember too that the curtains came in a hard plastic casing with a visible, questionable bug on the white branded card insert. I didnt have the energy at the time to return them and completing this task felt like something I had to do to be a “good mother.” The silver spray painted radiator sits there framed by gingham curtains hanging from a rod capped by two crystal ball finials. I remember concluding the task with a quick search to ensure this arrangement was not a fire hazard (it’s not). I find myself painting on this image over and over again meeting this memory with other still lifes of personal significance.
22 x 28 / Oil on archival pigment print
2025
Making home is a challenging undertaking. I wish I could flit about the house effortlessly tucking corners, tying loose ends, dusting, arranging in a snap front floral housecoat, rosy cheeked and eager to please, completing all tasks in the morning with time to spare for headier pursuits the rest of the day. Instead I am bogged down. It feels impossible to get things right and the tasks seem endless. What encapsulates this, I think, is a photo I took after installing curtains in my toddler’s bedroom in a less than ideal apartment we rented once. I knew we would not be there long but still I had to try and make it cozy for her. The walls were so brittle and hanging a curtain rod would require more than the standard effort. I remember too that the curtains came in a hard plastic casing with a visible, questionable bug on the white branded card insert. I didnt have the energy at the time to return them and completing this task felt like something I had to do to be a “good mother.” The silver spray painted radiator sits there framed by gingham curtains hanging from a rod capped by two crystal ball finials. I remember concluding the task with a quick search to ensure this arrangement was not a fire hazard (it’s not). I find myself painting on this image over and over again meeting this memory with other still lifes of personal significance.
22 x 28 / Oil on archival pigment print
2025
