“Maybe you can write a post about how it’s your last post.”
That’s eleven-year old Jeb about six months ago, talking to me from the passenger seat of our car on a morning drive to the bus stop.
When he says “last post,” he means my last post about him.
Alas, it has become apparent that my prose from a mother’s perspective has now become age-inappropriate. Simply put, he wants his privacy. What was sweet at seven, is too much exposure at eleven.
And I can respect that.
So instead of discontinuing posts about Jeb, I simply stopped the words altogether.
For those following the Archives, you may have noticed a progression towards pause, as sentences morphed to simple snapshots. And then for a good long while there, the posts just stopped coming.
There are volumes written about the ‘artist’s process’ and some days I’m uncertain if I’m an artist at all, let alone in any kind of process. But I do know that after nearly five years of solid dedication to the Archives, I just needed to be still. No words, no images.
In the depths of motherhood, I am finding myself constantly in new territory, trying to adapt with the flux and find my bearings. Jeb grows four inches in a year. He evolves into new stages, rapidly outgrowing his blue jeans, and making obsolescence out of my tried and true.
How do I write accounts of my days, while omitting one of the main characters cast in the script?
More importantly, how do I write at 4:30am without coffee?
After ten years as a coffee drinker, I’ve given up the Joe.
And after years of chronicling moments of life as a mother, I’ve been asked to refrain from sharing.
So, I sit here typing at 5:30am with a cup of tea, writing about wrestling with words.
Is this a piece about the artist’s process? Or just an explanation of practicalities?
The premise of the Archives was to find art in the ordinary. It began with me following a thread and revealing what I found along the way.
The journey continues. Whether I’m officially an “artist,” or whether this is, technically, a “process” is up to interpretation.
And though I may not be divulging intimate moments with Jeb, I doubt this is my last post.
For the Archives 