and other such mysteries regarding motherhood
***
Last winter, in the closet of my childhood bedroom, I excavated a self-portrait from middle school. My eyes are dull, my affect flat, and in the bottom right hand the title reads: me (depressed).
I have deep seated memories of drawing myself at that age that every so often come to the forefront of my mind, a reminder that this tangled web of melancholy in my heart has been a steady bedfellow since youth.
Having undergone gender affirming surgery nearly a decade ago, I am riddled with regret. Not with being transgender, but rather I am afflicted with a constant low-grade baby fever. The hurdles I would have to clear to adopt, to have a home, to even simply maintain a steady partnership, reside high upon the moon.
The works on display are excerpts of my journal entries, interspersed with drawings. They depict times that I have experienced moments of levity beyond emptying cups and bed rotting with yet another lover. I have found that it is when I’m caring for others, solely immersed in the act of mothering, that this sense of self-indulgent angst momentarily ceases.
before the surgery when asked by my mother if i wanted to save my seed [___] to sow and reap at a later date, rather than to burden this realm with another soul I declined to do so [___] during the following year [___] I began to experience these vivid dreams of seed pods germinating sending their tentacles down into the cool ground as they yearned upwards [___] towards the blazing sun, these phantom sensations were subtle, distant but mine
several years later, drawn like a pilgrim I visited the landfill where a part of me was buried, at the center was a winding tree, cloud bound grasping at the heavens with it’s branches outstretched [___] I clambered over refuse to approach her, reached out to break off [___] a singled branch [___] to find beneath the dull bark a series of silky ridges and scars [___] pale satin with a familiar grip, my new handle
back in my studio [___] I whittled away from dawn till dusk, and when it was done I went outside [___] reached up to pluck the slender crescent out from the sky [___] to fashion it atop the handle [___] beneath the moon starry heavens that eve [___] I laid down my scythe in a field of red poppies her down in a field of sun quenched poppies [___] so as to admire her beauty
motherhood, and a drawn scythe: chapter one
2026
It is common for artists to reveal the depth of our personal lives, the tenor of our souls, the joys and grief that have taken hold of our heart from a young age, who we love and what we care for. In the midst of preparing for this show though, I made the choice to entomb a few of my journals in their frames, as I am not ready to share them with the public so readily. This selection of writings and drawings are safely sealed away and will remain so until my death, do as you wish upon my passing.
[redacted]
motherhood, and a drawn scythe: chapter two
2026
I left it all behind [___] and am in search of hope [___]
motherhood, and a drawn scythe: chapter three
2026
[redacted]
motherhood, and a drawn scythe: chapter four
2026
one of my sisters [___] just gave birth to a beautiful baby girl last winter [___] recently I met her [___] in her presence, my pitiful, endless, unfulfilling desire for money, for fame, for power, for recognition, for awards and people clapping [___] washes away [___]
one afternoon I was asked to babysit her in the playpen [___] she offered me her toys which I would pretend to chew on and she would laugh [___] with such abundant joy! overcome I laid my scythe down beside me [___] reached down to scoop her [___] up to hold her in my arms, kissed her atop the head and hug her [___]
motherhood, and a drawn scythe: chapter five
2026
across the room in bed reclined her face smothered in pillows [___] basking in sunlight yet fast asleep [___] birth mother of my child [___] or so I wish and it is desperately wish and it is in moments such as these that I wish my cum still white [___] but rather it is clear and lacking that teenage ease [___]
motherhood, and a drawn scythe: chapter six
2026
my earliest memories were of dragging my little scythe down along the street [___] prop it up in the empty seat beside me on the bus to school [___] back at home [___] we would lay under the covers in bed [___] it’s been the two of us for as long as I can remember [___] we are seldom apart
several summers ago, walking down a hill with a child on either side of me [___] down towards a beet red sun, that hovered before us [___] I laid my scythe down in a patch of grassy knoll so as to take the hand of a child in each palm as we headed to dinner
she lay there as her brittle metal mellowed [___] it’s edges softened until they were scattered dew drops atop blades of grass [___] the carefully whittled handle now merely a branch [___] and eventually for the remainder of that joyful summer [___] it faded out of sight
motherhood, and a drawn scythe: chapter seven
2026
April 4th to July 3rd