I have taken dozens of photos, scrapped hundreds of words, and pulled on my hair. I cannot capture the images and I cannot find the words to describe what I’m seeing, but my Maiden Mother Crone triptych is in my possession. And it is phenomenal.
I’m nearly speechless with awe.
I began blathering about this last year when my friend, the art historian aka The Bitch Across the Hall, snagged some student work. I threatened to steal hers, but as the conversation with the artist, Melissa McCloud, progressed, I found myself commissioning my own set. I fretted for some time trying to figure out how to pay for them only to receive the news that Dr. B.A.T.H. was giving them to me for my 50th birthday.
My 50th birthday, all around, was an occasion that kept me in happy yet overwhelmed tears. The significance of the triptych to my turning 50 is so apparent to me that I’m puzzled when I have to explain it to people.
The average of menopause in this country is 50 and I’m right on track. Menopause is sometimes referred to as the crone stage of life. I’m still mothering my son, albeit in quite different ways, but the hallmarks of motherhood are passing. I’m entering, mostly gleeful, the crone stage.
Here it is Easter weekend. I have in no way marked Easter in the Christian tradition or Ostara in the pagan tradition. I have sat around wiggling my nose hoping to end up with a bunch of completed projects without putting in the time and effort.
It wasn’t working.
I forced myself to pick up the camera and try again. It was an insult to the artist and to my friend not to acknowledge this triptych. In moving about the house trying to capture their beauty, I’m slowly gathering steam.
The three women are carved balsa wood. Layers of balsa were glued together (laminated), cut and carved. At my request, they were heavily textured and stained the same color as my woodwork and most of my furniture. I wanted them to slide into this house like they’d always been here and to appear as if they’d organically grown with the barn on this hillside. And they have.
There’s no place in this house they wouldn’t be perfect. My struggle is to find the right place where I can see them often and touch them often. They beg for touch. (Besides which, I never get the opportunity to fondle a well-endowed set of breasts.)
Some years ago, I whined and pleaded my way into another piece of art featuring the torsos of three women (Artist: Sherri Weeks.) The multimedia piece has hung in my study for several years now and I never tire of looking at it. In anticipation of the Maiden Mother Crone arrival, I have been preparing the study for installation which has involved a thorough gutting, cleaning, wall repair, dithering about color, and the application of 8 million coats of paint. I have whined.
I have also stalled.
My plan was to install the triptych under the painting and on top the bookcases that serve as a credenza. The one trio of women would mirror the other.
For some weeks I worked feverishly on the study and other weeks not so much. The closer I got to finishing, the more my energy levels waned and then I got zapped by Carlos the Cruddy Cold (who may turn into Boris Bronchitis).
Without the ceremony they deserve, I picked up the triptych on Friday. My inertia deepened when I couldn’t get them to photograph well, I couldn’t describe them to my satisfaction, and I couldn’t find the energy to finish the damn study.
Frankly, I’m tired of the chaos of the study project. I want nothing more than to sit in there gazing adoringly at my six women.
Winter is over, the triptych is here and I feel ambition welling akin to the swelling of the branches that will result in leaves and flowers on the plants in my as yet neglected garden.
The women whisper to me to get on with the next stage. The earth has turned, the sun has returned, and the time has come.
The women must be listened to.
4 thoughts on “Maiden Mother Crone (The Arrival)”
They are Beautiful. Display them with pride. Your pictures turned out quite well to my eye.
Please fondle those breasts once for me. 8)
these things take time…
It’s part of the process and you should enjoy the journey. I think I’m about to sing on Tuesday evening. Too bad I’ve turned into the fat lady but damn if my project isn’t lookin’ good. The carpet was torn out and now the hardwood floors have been refinished. They still need moldings and transition strips installed but the sealer has dried enough not to smell anymore so I’m calling it completed. We de-dust tomorrow. I found the perfect slipcover for my leather couch. The patchwork on the seats was splitting at all the seams so now it looks like new again. My plan has come together and I’ll start taking those documentary photos soon. I bet you’ll find all sorts of ways and angles to pose your gifts as you go on. I know I will–wait til you see the box for the junk on my desk. Quite frankly, I amaze myself sometimes.
This is fab beyond words.
There are more thoughts jumbling ’round in my head, but I have no strength to untangle them now, other than, fab.
That is some absolutely awesome stuff! I love them. How do I get one?
Reminds me of an old dude who lives up around Buchannon who does stuff in wood and is fairly well known. . . Wolfgang something(my brain is shriveling). . . he liked female torsos. . . but who doesn’t.
This is really fabulous stuff.