mamamultimedia

mothering + art =

mothering is the foundation and dance the pillar upon which my exploration of the arts is built. i am inspired by the possibilities which exist within technology to further promote the art of motherhood, mothers who make art, and art on the subject of mothering.

this painting is so incredible….i would really really love to know who the artist is.  it was my desktop picture while i was pregnant!  we are what we eat - and so are our children!

this painting is so incredible….i would really really love to know who the artist is.  it was my desktop picture while i was pregnant!  we are what we eat - and so are our children!

airdiary:

(life, colour, birth) painting done by me: chanell “nana” monae

airdiary:

(life, colour, birth) painting done by me: chanell “nana” monae

girlyboner:

I find this beautiful and I think it’s tragic when people make something so natural into something so grotesque.

girlyboner:

I find this beautiful and I think it’s tragic when people make something so natural into something so grotesque.

This is the female form,
A divine nimbus exhales from it from head to foot,
It attracts with fierce undeniable attraction,
I am drawn by its breath as if I were no more than a helpless vapor, all falls aside but myself and it,
Books, art, religion, time, the visible and solid earth, and what was expected of heaven or fear’d of hell, are now consumed,
Mad filaments, ungovernable shoots play out of it, the response likewise ungovernable,
Hair, bosom, hips, bend of legs, negligent falling hands all diffused, mine too diffused,
Ebb stung by the flow and flow stung by the ebb, love-flesh swelling and deliciously aching,
Limitless limpid jets of love hot and enormous, quivering jelly of love, white-blow and delirious juice,
Bridegroom night of love working surely and softly into the prostrate dawn,
Undulating into the willing and yielding day,
Lost in the cleave of the clasping and sweet-flesh’d day.


This the nucleus—after the child is born of woman, man is born of woman,
This the bath of birth, this the merge of small and large, and the outlet again.


Be not ashamed women, your privilege encloses the rest, and is the exit of the rest,
You are the gates of the body, and you are the gates of the soul.


The female contains all qualities and tempers them,
She is in her place and moves with perfect balance,
She is all things duly veil’d, she is both passive and active,
She is to conceive daughters as well as sons, and sons as well as daughters.


As I see my soul reflected in Nature,
As I see through a mist, One with inexpressible completeness, sanity, beauty,
See the bent head and arms folded over the breast, the Female I see.

I Sing the Body Electric #5 by Walt Whitman (via fernsandmoss)


The Pink & Blue Diaries: This Double Life ↘

deborahsiegel:

Just discovered an excellent anthology by writing mamas in Canada called Double Lives: Writing and Motherhood. Includes gems like: “I think this new generation of mothers are more determined than ever not to let motherhood change their lives-and therein lies a new problem, because, of…

andreakiss:

by Sulamith Wulfing.  I believe it is Titled “Circle,” but i could be wrong

andreakiss:

by Sulamith Wulfing.  I believe it is Titled “Circle,” but i could be wrong

Reinvent Yourself: A Mother of Three Becomes an Artist ↘

Iris Bourne in front of her paintings on display at The Lumberyard

Jessica Clements Painting Portfolio ↘

Here is part of the artist’s statement:

I have come to understand that birth is a natural and beautiful part of our lives. My paintings serve multiple purposes. They:


(lovely image from here, via here)

(lovely image from here, via here)

(Source: )


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wilife:

Nesting:

It’s time to meet a new Wisconsin poet.  Erin Trondson has just published a collection of poems called “Nesting” – a record of her daughters’ first years and of her own thoughts about motherhood.


fuckyeah-arthistory:

Mother and Child - Elizabeth Catlett, 1993

fuckyeah-arthistory:

Mother and Child - Elizabeth Catlett, 1993

Paradise is opened at the command of mothers.
~ Egyptian Proverb