First Day I Was Born
My Mom, my biggest fan/supporter and worrier, called me today, "I had the same feeling reading this blog, as I had on the first day you were born."
"This is exactly what I was going for." I told her. "Not for you but for everyone."
"Of course you were born on your due date, I am a perfectionist, like you." She said.
" I told the nurses to put you 'on demand' which meant they should contact me when you should be fed. Unfortunately someone spelled it wrong and it said 'on Demend'."
"How appropriate" I said "Now I'm on de' mend."
"Anyway, you slept through your feeding time [also appropriate], a nurse called me and said you were crying and making such a fuss..."
"'Well of course he is,' I said"
'he hasn't been fed.' I was so angry"
My Mom wanted things to be "optimum" for me.
I was born out of the viewfinder of her camera.
A shot taken of the convex mirror in the corner of the hospital room,
her legs up in stirrups,
pale masked men hovering about like ghosts doing their jobs
while she did the real work.
Her labor, her art.
Rewind 9+ months
I was conceived before I was conceived
"I want another baby" she said to my father.
After raising four at the same time it was not exactly what my father wanted to hear.
"Well YOU have to put this one through college." He said
"This was the only thing I was good at" she once told me.
At 18 I found some of her prints collecting dust in the back of a closet.
Found objects in black and white, the decay of modern enterprise, a mattress with one spring spiraling out of it's innards, "Philosopher's Honeymoon" it was called. Another, a photograph of a woman decked out, flapper style, burnt edges, amongst the rubble of a burned down house.
How could these images be any more beautiful. They were shots I would have taken if I had had a camera. Her work was beginning to be recognized in the photo community. She got cold feet "a woman wasn't supposed to 'make it' in the business world." She said.
I wonder what kind of world my daughter is going to grow up in. Well I won't let her grow up in a world where she can't 'make it.'
This is the beginning of forming that world.
So, I started as a naked concept like everything in this universe.
An immaculate conception.
"This is exactly what I was going for." I told her. "Not for you but for everyone."
"Of course you were born on your due date, I am a perfectionist, like you." She said.
" I told the nurses to put you 'on demand' which meant they should contact me when you should be fed. Unfortunately someone spelled it wrong and it said 'on Demend'."
"How appropriate" I said "Now I'm on de' mend."
"Anyway, you slept through your feeding time [also appropriate], a nurse called me and said you were crying and making such a fuss..."
"'Well of course he is,' I said"
'he hasn't been fed.' I was so angry"
My Mom wanted things to be "optimum" for me.
I was born out of the viewfinder of her camera.
A shot taken of the convex mirror in the corner of the hospital room,
her legs up in stirrups,
pale masked men hovering about like ghosts doing their jobs
while she did the real work.
Her labor, her art.
Rewind 9+ months
I was conceived before I was conceived
"I want another baby" she said to my father.
After raising four at the same time it was not exactly what my father wanted to hear.
"Well YOU have to put this one through college." He said
"This was the only thing I was good at" she once told me.
At 18 I found some of her prints collecting dust in the back of a closet.
Found objects in black and white, the decay of modern enterprise, a mattress with one spring spiraling out of it's innards, "Philosopher's Honeymoon" it was called. Another, a photograph of a woman decked out, flapper style, burnt edges, amongst the rubble of a burned down house.
How could these images be any more beautiful. They were shots I would have taken if I had had a camera. Her work was beginning to be recognized in the photo community. She got cold feet "a woman wasn't supposed to 'make it' in the business world." She said.
I wonder what kind of world my daughter is going to grow up in. Well I won't let her grow up in a world where she can't 'make it.'
This is the beginning of forming that world.
So, I started as a naked concept like everything in this universe.
An immaculate conception.
posted by NOT ART at
12:29 PM
2 Comments:
Where is the rest? Keep at this worthwhile project! Inspiration AND discipline.... M
I really like this poem, and not only because I feel part of the personal history it reflects: my name is your name; my Michael helped inspire the wish to have you. I think I would like it if I knew nothing about you for its sense of a self (and a writer) at the moment of creation.
I also like the poem about humanity grasping the tool and the terrible and wonderful consequences that flow from that, and that lovely image in "Paradox" -- society crawling on skinned knees.
You know I have been a writer too -- poetry, plays, a novel. Tried to make a living as a playwright for a while. It didn't work, so I had to move on to something else. The important thing is to keep on living creatively.
MFK
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