I finished this painting today.
The title refers to the way our memories fade in and out. Some memories are so clear while others are foggy and transparent. The memories that are clear are not always the most important, often we wonder why we have held on to that memory at all. How can we remember things so vividly from long ago but barely remember things that happened to us last week?
The memory can be selective and often distorted. What is really true, what is fabricated, what is embellished? I often wonder these things. And I often worry what memories I am creating for my children. What are they going to remember? Mommy keeping the house clean? Our walks to the library? Ballet class? Our endless photo sessions? Watching too many Barbie movies? My limited patience? My reclusive tendencies? How will my choices effect them in their adult lives? Did I give them a feeling of entitlement?* And on and on. It sure can be exhausting.
I remember somewhere I heard/read of a woman ( I think it was some film star) saying she had absolutely no memory of her childhood. It was like she didn’t exist before a certain time. I wish I could remember if I had read it or heard it on TV but there you go, my memory fails me. I found that idea fascinating though. No memories of being a child. That would be so odd. I wonder if she ever had children of her own. What kind of Mother was she? How would she relate to their childhood? Surely the memories of our own childhood shape the way we raise our children. For good or for bad. Isn’t that why we hold on to traditions? To try to relive our childhood through our children’s experience of the same things we did when we were children.
I’ll stop now, I could go on and on.
*I am currently reading ‘Outliers’ by Malcolm Gladwell
This painting is available on etsy
Even climbing the ladder gave Circus Girl butterflies.