A Love Poem For My Mother
This is the first artwork completed in my Retro-Causation series. In November of 2025, I began trying to make sense of my life. I was experiencing profound burnout and felt confused about my direction. As I always do, I coped by turning to my art practice. When you are thoroughly exhausted, even the joy and release of making something meaningful and beautiful is barely enough to get you out of bed - but it was, at least, a start in my wellness journey.
I knew I wanted to take a break from the Rainbow Body series. It wasn't because I was finished with it, but rather because I needed a new lens - a new challenge to sustain me. Having no idea where to begin, I chose the most obvious starting point: myself, exactly as I am right now. I started by casting my face in plaster, likely inspired on some level by The Faces of Ruth Asawa at the Cantor Museum. My younger son helped me accomplish this by draping plaster sheets over my cling-wrapped face (and don't worry, I left two holes for my nostrils!).
In hindsight, I should have used loose plaster, like Ruth, to capture those crisp details. Instead, I had to make do with what I had. Next, I lined the mask with paper clay. Over the following days, I carved out more details using paper clay and a Dremel. This gave me an unexpected opportunity to truly look at my own face. What I think I look like and what I actually look like are not the same thing. Bridging that gap through self-discovery, and making peace with the difference, became foundational to what this artwork is really about.
My stylish mother in the 1970s
In mid-December, I traveled to visit my parents over the winter break, spending a lot of time poring over old photographs. Two of my favorites stood out. The first was a picture of my mother carrying her newborn child (either me or my brother) in a handheld baby carrier. She looked so young, happy, and effortlessly stylish in her 1970s maxi dress and highlighted hair. The photo was taken in the parking lot directly under our apartment building, with an old car peeking out from behind a support column. I recognize that exact spot. I remember the rough texture of the plaster on that column and the surrounding, lackluster landscaping. I had played hide-and-seek behind that column countless times, bounced balls against it, and probably crashed my bike into it, too. The second photo that drew me in was of myself at about four years old. It was taken immediately after I had taken a spill while roller-skating at the tiled entrance of the massive building across the street. My babysitter, who remains one of my best friends to this day, lived there, and we affectionately referred to it as the 'train building' because it seemed so endlessly long. That tiled stretch of floor was incredibly popular with the neighborhood kids, and there was almost always someone there to play with.
Me at 4 years old
When I returned home from winter break, an image of what this art piece needed to become began to crystallize in my mind. I needed to split the plaster mask in half, affixing both sides on hinges to reveal the child within. Once I had that vision, the rest simply fell into place. The process took time due to its technical complexity and my own low energy levels, but I finally completed it in early March.
What makes this piece especially important to me is how it defined the trajectory of this new series. It became an exploration of the past's impact on my present, and a message of self-acceptance and healing that will reverberate throughout the entire timeline of my life to date. Since then, I have completed three other works in the Retro-Causation series, and I am currently working on The Time Tunnel. Stay tuned for more.
Artwork Specifications
Title: A Love Poem For My Mother
Completed: March 3, 2026
Dimensions: 16 × 16 inches
Foundation: Wood panel and foam-core
Mediums: Acrylic and oil paint
Sculptural Elements: Paper clay
Finishing Touches: Gold leaf and resin
