The Facts Remain

Yesterday we left home early to drive to Macon GA and pick up my paintings from the Silent Voices exhibit at the 567 Center for Renewal. It's a 4 hour drive each way so I knew it was going to be a long day but I was excited to get there and hear about how the show went after the opening. I was only there for one night so Beth was there for me interacting with the public during the month of the show.

Artists have a job. Sometimes that job description is about beauty- sharing nature, bringing it indoors for us to enjoy and sometimes that job is about telling truths, provoking thought and emotion, waking people up, educating or making a statement about a particular societal problem. When you put paintings out there that tell a story - a painful, uncomfortable story - it can bring a huge range of responses so I was not at all surprised by the reactions to my work.

There were other first mothers who saw the show and were deeply affected. There were many tears as people related to the poetry and the images. Some of those who were just as deeply touched were coming from completely different experiences, some not even related to adoption at all but were still about loss in a big way.

Some people were curious about the meaning behind the paintings and wanted to learn more and some people were looking from an artistic standpoint.

To me the most interesting reactions were the ones from people reacting with anger. One person in particular was so upset by the images that he called it "crap" and didn't understand how that "shit" could be exhibited.

There was also a group of people very insulted and offended by my work. New City Church shares space in the building with the art center where the show was held. They were so offended in fact that they forced the art center to remove 3 of my paintings every weekend before their services and then they were displayed again afterwards. They censored my show every week in February. That's how uncomfortable the truth is to some people. Which pieces couldn't they handle? Of course the 3 in this post. Every week these paintings had to go into hiding.

Funny how these 3 were the most obvious about the corruption of the adoption industry. I could pour my heart out in the other pieces about the personal price that first mothers AND adoptees pay because of adoption but don't let anyone see anything negative about the industry or any religious connection to it. Do you think I touched a nerve? Do you think there might be more than a couple of adoptive parents in the church? Yes and yes.

It's certainly not my intention to go around insulting and offending people. Anyone who knows me, knows that. My intention is to share my personal story because it's also the story of millions of others like me and most of the general public doesn't know about this part of history. It's the truth for them and it's my truth. My other intention is to make people aware of the other truth- the one about the corruption in adoption. I wasn't merely sharing my opinion. I was stating facts in picture form. What's on those canvases is a visual representation of the facts.

Everyone is entitled to their own opinion but hiding the facts, being insulted by facts, being offended by facts, doesn't change a thing. The facts remain.

Adoption is a supply and demand business making $$$billions$$$ for an industry.

I was a little disappointed in the turn out for the opening reception last month but after hearing about the reactions of people since then I'd say I did my job. The work made more people aware and no matter what their reaction was it made them think about it.

I want to say a giant thank you to Beth Smith for curating the show and being there to answer questions and be my voice for the duration of the exhibit. She was not only my voice for the rest of the month but she was also able to add to the show with her own voice as an adoptee. Thank you a million times over for being so strong and taking the leap with me.

So now, I'll continue to add more pieces to the Silent Voices collection and hopefully someday another curator will take the leap.

It's all about awareness

Well it's done. The opening of Silent Voices happened and I survived it. Of course I was a nervous wreck for a little while but still I was pleased with how everything turned out.

This was the gallery space before the reception. I was thrilled with how well everything came together. The paintings fit the space beautifully and hanging didn't take very long at all. The poetry worked along side the artwork.

There was a lot going on in Macon Friday night so the turn out for the reception was not what I had hoped it would be. The people who did come were genuinely interested in the story behind the work, they took the time to read about each piece and asked me questions about the adoption industry. Several people were shocked by what they learned.

I spent quite a bit of time with one couple who were curious about the topic because friends of theirs were considering adopting. They had gone to agency websites and were appalled at the prices they saw there. They wanted to know what was behind it so they got an earful and a new understanding of the industry.

There were two points I wanted to get across with the exhibit. 1. Explain what the BSE was and how pregnant women were treated. 2. How and why the industry has morphed into what it is today. Maybe I only got to speak to a handful of people but if those few learned something about the other side of adoption then it was a success and well worth doing the show. It's all about awareness.

These 2 pieces were the last ones I painted. I couldn't get a good picture because of where they were hanging- there was a post in the way. These are called Adoption Situation, referring to the listings on adoption agency websites where babies are listed along with a price.

Scared and alone she reached out.

Come with us they said.

I’m in a situation.

We’ll take good care of you they said.

I can’t afford a baby.

We know people who can they said.

I don’t know what to do.

We’ll help you make a “plan” they said.

My family doesn’t understand.

We do. We can take care of that situation they said.

I don’t know if I can do this.

You’ll be brave and selfless they said.

This looks like a nice couple.

The couple in the brochure is better than you they said.

I’ll miss my baby.

You love him so much you’ll let someone else raise him they said.

I want time with my baby first.

But they need to bond with him they said.

I can’t do this. I want my baby back.

Too late, the check has been cashed they said.

An opportunity to be heard

A while ago I asked mothers of adoption loss if they would like to be included in this painting. I added their names and the birthdays of their lost children. Since then I've done a number of other paintings, written narrative poetry to go with the pieces and did a book called Silent Voices.

Now I have a wonderful opportunity to continue this series of work about adoption and share it with the public in an upcoming exhibit at the 567 Center for Renewal art center in Macon GA. The exhibit will be in April 2016. My plan for the exhibit includes 14 large paintings (13 of them are done, the birthday candle painting will be included), a series of collages and a display of boxes. My plan for the collage work is to include handwritten stories from other natural mothers and also have some sheets of paper that are blank so people visiting the exhibit can add their own voices to the display.

My dear mom friends out there.... would you be willing to add your voice to this exhibit? This is a chance to have our voices heard. Showing at an art center with an exhibit that focuses solely on adoption loss from the mother's point of view is a rare thing indeed. I'd love to include as many of you as possible. Let's share our stories. Too many people have no idea what infant adoption does to the original family.

If you would like to participate, let me know in the comments. You can leave your story in the comments too and I'll write it out on paper but I would love to have your hand, your touch on that paper and then I'll make it part of the collage. You don't have to write a long thing- a paragraph or two would be perfect. You could write about any aspect of adoption. How did losing a child to adoption impact your life? How has it affected the rest of your family? What were the circumstances around the adoption? Were you able to hold your baby before relinquishing? Was it a closed or open adoption? Did you have to keep the adoption secret? These are just a few ideas.....

We can get in touch through email or you can message me on FB and thank you, thank you, thank you! I hope you'll consider adding your words. It would make the exhibit so much more powerful!

I Could Breathe Again

I Could Breathe Again

48x36

I've been working on this painting all week. It's the next one in the Silent Voices series and is about the day I met my daughter for the first time.

Today is my daughter's 34th birthday and yesterday was the 11th anniversary of the first time we met face to face. We first reunited in 2002 but we didn't actually meet until 2003. It's hard to believe it's been so long. The memory of seeing her for the first time is so permanently etched in my brain. I think I held my breath for the entire flight to Ohio.

first hug

That night I wrote in my journal....

Well today has been many years in the making. I met my daughter for the first time. What a long day. I'ts been - up at 4:30 to get ready for the airport, 2 hour flight leaving at noon. Nothing can compare to the feeling of putting my arms around her for the first time. The relief was amazing - I could breathe again. When I got off the plane and made my way through the airport I thought I would faint! I couldn't breathe. I could hardly walk. I didn't see them up by the gates so I made it down to baggage claim. I spotted Josh first, then Cindy - oh my gosh - what a hug, and there were many more to come. Then I turned around and there she was - my Liz. She was just standing there smiling. I ran to her and then I just couldn't let go. We stood there for the longest time hugging and crying while Cindy ran around in circles shooting pictures and Sam handed us tissues. When I finally let go I couldn't take my eyes off her. Cindy was amazed at how much alike we look. She said we look like we belong together. Amy said we have some very similar expressions and mannerisms. 

So from the airport we went to get food. By this point the nerves had settled and we all got very hungry. Without knowing it I ordered Liz's favorite meal - meatloaf, mashed potatoes and green beans. She said she had Cindy make it for her every birthday. Cindy cracked up when she heard my order.

The day we met really did feel like the first day I took a breath. It wasn't just the anxiety sitting on my chest and crushing me that day at the airport. When I finally put my arms around her it felt like I had been holding my breath for decades and at that moment I could finally take in air - as much as I wanted, expanding my lungs fully. I had been shallow breathing all that time and now I can take a deep, deep breath. 

Easter Sunday 2003

Do you remember the feeling when giving birth? - the hours of contractions, unrelenting pain and pressure, pushing and sweating, crowning, head pushes out and then shoulder and then finally the small body slips out and suddenly there's such a rush of relief. The agony is released and you go limp. The experience of meeting her was like birthing her a second time. The pressure had been building for decades, the emotion of waiting and wondering was constantly flowing in waves like the pain. The grief hitting like the tears released between contractions. And then all of a sudden - it's over. I could relax and look at her, touch her, talk to her.

It was the end of a phase and the beginning of a new one. It was the end of the unknown and the joyful beginning of a relationship. It was also the beginning of a new understanding of what was lost to both of us. Reunion brings with it a new set of  bags to carry. They're still the adoption bags but the weight has shifted a little. I could breathe again but the grief is still there. I don't think that ever goes away. Then there is the learning curve of how to fit into each other's lives. I think we've done pretty well. There are ups and downs, quiet times to get through, distance to deal with but I'm grateful.

I'm grateful I get to say Happy Birthday to her.  

Write or paint?

There have been many times recently that I've wanted to sit down and write a post. An article would pop up that struck a chord or I saw something that gave me an idea for a post, then I thought - ok, I'll do that later but right now I want to work on this painting. Well guess where all those ideas went - poof, disappeared into the recesses of the grey matter somewhere! I have got to keep a notebook with me at all times!

The last few weeks all my energy has gone into the visual end of production. Like you saw in my last post, the book of art and poetry is up on Amazon. Outside the studio and classes, that took the rest of my time. Now I'm working on the next group of paintings plus working on an exhibition proposal and a grant application. Someday I'd love to have this series of work in a traveling exhibition that brings awareness to the topic of adoption. I have many more ideas than hours in a day. Along with this series of canvases, another part of the exhibition that I started working on is a group of paintings on watercolor paper. They will be painted on both sides and hung freely, unframed, in the middle of the room so visitors can walk around them. Included in the collages will be handwritten stories from mothers and adoptees.  At the end of the room I'd like to have a blank sheet where visitors to the exhibition can write their own adoption stories and add it to the collection. As the exhibition travels, more people participate and the story of adoption grows.

If you or someone you know would be interested in having your story included in the collages that I'm working on now, please let me know. I'd love to include you. All you would have to do is hand write a part of your story that you would like to share and mail it to me. Your paper will actually be glued into the design.  The reason for this part of the series is to show some of the many hands and hearts of natural mothers and adoptees and how they've been affected by adoption.

The hand print above is a little piece of the next canvas. It's almost done so I'll be posting it soon.

Something new

 

I want to share some info. I've put together a book of my paintings and poetry in the Silent Voices series and it's now available on Amazon. The Kindle version of the book is free for today only. Here's the description....

The story of adoption is seldom told from the natural mother's point of view. Eleven full color paintings with narrative poetry tell a story of loss, longing, power, powerlessness, surrender, grief, family and meaning. It represents the spiritual and physical connection that women have with their children and what happens when that connection is lost at birth. It's about children losing their identities and their histories, their families and their truth. It's a story lived and seen through the eyes of a mother who lost a child and a person who lost a paternal history. Each painting represents one moment in time, one aspect of living with adoption.

To get your free copy click here. If you miss the free copy and you're an Amazon Prime member you can borrow the book for free. I'd love to hear your thoughts......

What Remains

What Remains

48x36

Standing at the edge,

treading lightly,

casting what's left of myself.

Who I was is gone.

This is what remains.

Bought and sold,

before and after.

Thoughts move from light into shadow.

One event, one moment,

became 2 lifetimes changed.

Holding thoughts of her, 

protected in the small dark place,

time moves in and out of the light.

With her,

in the sun,

who would we have been?

Mothers in Exile

Hidden in shame, lies are told

about us, by us.

Gratitude for sacrifice slams the door.

Our motherhoods removed 

they think, they wish.

Behind the door our hearts beat, our arms empty, we wait.

Our children grow, we search and find.

Sometimes good, sometimes sad

but still we sit.......

Huddled together, a group outside.

The mainstream flows, comforted in their easy belief.

We push against the current hoping to get through.

Again the door slams shut.

Again we lean a little harder.

A small wave of light escapes from beneath.

Our stories are read.

Replies come fast and furious to put us in our place.

"just because you had a bad experience" they said.

Behind the door the words get larger.

Through mothers in exile silent voices heard.

I know it's just a doll but.....

She's my alter ego, my muse, the glamour girl that I'm not. She's a gift to me from my friend Kelli and she stands tall in my painting studio looking down at me from her high perch on top of the Hoosier cabinet I use to store art supplies. She's about as polar opposite of me as you can get - tall, thin and blond so that gives you an idea of "me".

I love this doll, she has a look about her that says "I'm strong, beautiful, I know who I am and what I want to say". It's a strength I wish I had way back when and I'm still working on acquiring that strength. I think it's an ongoing process, probably one that lasts a lifetime. Maybe that's why she appeals to me. She's a reminder of who I can be - no, I won't magically transform into a tall, skinny, blond but maybe in the new year I can be newly inspired to paint what I feel about adoption and be strong enough to be authentic in my words and work.

I haven't been here posting in a while. The holidays were crazy busy and I also needed a break from the topic. When I find myself crying at the drop of hat (or the drop of a word about adoption) it's time to pull back and take care of myself. Now, after spending wonderful time with the family, I'm back in the studio and feeling stronger again.

I hope you had a wonderful holiday and here's to the new year!

Art, Adoption and Fear

Solstice Night

colored pencil

14x10

I know the winter solstice is the one we're close to but this piece represents a summer solstice night from years ago and I'm putting it here because it reminds me of the inner work we do as artists (it also reminds me of the warmer temps - I'm not liking the freezing weather we've had in FL lately). The painting was done from a photo I took in my friends yard in Taos NM during our last meeting of The Artist's Way group.

Artist's don't get down to work until the pain of working is exceeded by the pain of not working. ~ Stephen DeStaebler

Artist's deal with insecurities all the time. First there is the fear of the blank canvas. There's the fear of putting our work out there, the fear of ridicule or rejection, the fear the gallery director isn't going to like the work, the fear the director won't even look at the work, the fear of spending resources on show entry fees and not getting into the show, the fear of not being able to sell the work, the fear of getting into shows and then not having the funds to deal with the framing, shipping and cartage fees required. Then, even after getting into a show and winning an award, there is the fear surrounding being able to produce that quality of work ever again.

Producing art, showing the work and working as an artist takes stamina, tenacity and facing fears. The basic thought behind all of this fear is "I'm not good enough". Producing art is very revealing. When we paint we put a piece of our soul on the paper or canvas. If you gave the same photo to 20 different artists and asked them to make a painting from that photo, you would have 20 different results. The subject might be the same but every artist's soul is different and the art reveals that.

For me living as an artist takes introspection, meditation and courage - a willingness to be seen. Maybe all these years of learning to be an artist has helped me in living as a natural mother from the closed adoption era. As mothers we were told we weren't good enough to raise our own children. The only reason being that we weren't married. The 2 children I did raise are proof enough that it wasn't true. Finding my worth in the art world/outside world coincided with finding my worth as a mother. I believe finding ways of dealing with fear in creativity also helped me in dealing with the grief that comes with adoption.

It's hard to face that grief. It's hard to live with it every day. It was also hard to start the search for my daughter. Some people were afraid for me. They were afraid that I would get hurt, either by what I found out or by not being able to find her at all. I was afraid too. Searching online in the reunion registries was a simple way to start so that's what I did. I spent years doing that with no success. Finally I got the courage to make the call to Catholic Charities. The pain of not knowing was far greater than the fear of what I might find. I had to know something.

A lot of life as an artist and as a natural mother is about facing fear. The latest hurdle for me was facing the fear of talking about adoption. It still comes down to overcoming the feeling of not being good enough but I'm the only one who creates that feeling so I can change it by thinking a different thought. Now putting the art out there doesn't seem nearly as difficult as it used to and talking about adoption is getting easier. Although the people who used to worry about me during the search phase are relieved, they're now worried about me talking about it. They worry that I might get sick again (last year I was dealing with the big "C" but I'm fine now) As a matter of fact, it wouldn't surprise me at all if the pain of decades of hidden grief was the cause of the illness to begin with. So.... no worries. Painting is fulfilling a need to create and being honest about adoption is fulfilling a need to be free. And, as facing the fears in the art world seems to have helped me in dealing with adoption, adoption has now found it's way into the art.