I just finished reading this horrible, intentionally misleading, fear mongering article about baby making and how as we get older, and women approach that all terrifying age of 30, our options for motherhood, that all purpose life making, all meaningful "goal of all goals", literally begins to shrivel up and fall out of our vaginas. Well, as someone who is almost 30 and likes kids alright, but not enough to twist my life, finances or happiness into a pretzel to start baby making before I'm ready, I have this to say, what if I just give birth to myself over and over and over again until I'm ready to give birth for real? I'm sure both of us will be better for it. Until I can become all the me my mom gave birth to me to be. Besides, she worked hard for me to get where I am today. Who am I to not work my hardest for her?
The women in Mary Cassatt's paintings experience love, tenderness, privacy and leisure. She was a remarkable painter for her time. Not because of how she painted, that was unquestionably superb, but of what she chose to paint.
Those little ears!! Look at them!
Matias posted this on his facebook and it reminded me how much I love her. I have an original screenprinted poster for her Hon-en-kathedral show in my office.
It was cool to see a huge version of my poster at the WACK exhibition at PS1 a few years ago.
Ono, pure amazingness.
