Mother Watching Over the Birth of Spirit
40 X 60
the story of
What would happen
if one woman told the truth about her life?
The world would
Story of this Painting
My sister calls
with news that sends shivers through my whole body. She's pregnant.
It's my first close encounter with motherhood and it sends my imagination
on a wild quest for the meaning, the truth of this experience. How would
it feel to have another being inside of you? Would you share your dreams,
emotions, thoughts, your very prayers, as well as the food you eat?
Would you live in a more sacred way knowing your body was a temple that
protected and nourished a new life? Contemplation of this question triggered
a reverie that painted this picture . . .
The journey had
begun, there was no turning back. The rainbow colored kaleidoscope passageway
drew me inward with hypnotic intensity. My body was ripe with expectancy
and inner knowing. The heroic stance of a Tibetan Buddhist deity seems
courageous and appropriate for this momentous episode of life. A smile
blooms on my lips in recognition of a love for the romantic script that
I, a human being can create life. The flayed skin of a flower petal
embraces my body. Its impassioned red color energizing my intention
to be a good mother and projecting a camouflage, "the goddess as
energy incarnate, lustrous as the scarlet hibiscus . . . made manifest
from a flame issuing from the mouth of the gods. In the Tantric texts
she was the source of all color as well as the form of no color, of
that total darkness of the no moon night, Maharatri. Moonlight was she
and sun beam, she was the color of the two twilights."(2) Being pregnant is an adventure into the unknown
requiring courage, strength, flexibility and discriminating awareness--no
wonder the guise of a heroine.
Projection of my
desires and fantasies create the momentum that sends my lightening bolt
vehicle hurtling through space towards my destiny as a mother. Revealed
as dreams on the extended leg that steps first into the world, creative
imagination transforms into manifestation on earth. A child is born.
Reality looms in the background, the birthing process is not easy. Here
the mother is really alone as a primordial forest; dark, quiet and immense,
a cathedral of sacred space that resonates with the song of creation.
As a flower moves
through time from bud to full blown radiance, so does the seed of spirit
grow within my child's heart. The mother-creator, her own body the alchemists'
lab, holds with great care the elements of life; air, earth, fire, water
and ether (consciousness). The child's image she empowers with form
Woman pregnant with
child, became for me the artist/creator/heroine of her own life and
death story. As Moon Mother she is the creator of the universe. She
is the vehicle of transformation and metamorphosis, a mirror that reflects
light creating images, colors, forms, sounds and tastes that fashion
the world yet disguise the true nature of light. As an artist I know
her innate ability to be the crescent moon ark, carrying within her
frame fertile ground from which new life can emerge. Fiery vision is
behind the creatress, the motivating force which propels her into the
unknown, moment by moment confrontation with reality. The elements are
my implements of creativity, the paint brush, color, water and the paper
my moon mirror. The moon is an ancient multifaceted symbol beloved to
me because it evokes the image of women of power.
The moon in the
Broken and broken
Still it is there.
Bernikow, The World Split Open, Introduction.
Jayakar, The Earthen Drum, p.14
Hallmark Editions, Silent Flowers, p.22