Laying down to paint: A mural for Liz's Book Bar
Michelangelo was 33 when he started the Sistine Chapel ceiling. He was 37 when he finished the feat, writing to his friend a poem about his experience, “My brush, above me all the time, dribbles paint so my face makes a fine floor for droppings! My haunches are grinding into my guts, my poor ass strains to work as a counterweight, every gesture I make is blind and aimless…” First off, could you imagine - blind and aimless! And spending 4 years contorted, or as he writes “…hunched up here like a cat in Lombardy (or anywhere else where the stagnant water's poison)…” would be tough, especially when you have no sense that what you are creating will be one of the most incredible artistic feats, of all time. This got me thinking about how as artists we have a different relationship with the art we create than the outside world does. He never got to experience how my face relaxed the first time I walked into his chapel. He didn’t get to feel the tears sneaking out of my eyes when I looked up, or how my hands unclenched when I saw the blue-greens of his sky, the piercing eyes, the billowing clouds. As artists we often make our art and move on to the next.
I found myself laying down, paint brush in hand (Michelangelo-style), at an active construction site in Brooklyn, NY this past summer. I was 33. Some paint drips making their way onto my face (but thats where the comparison stops).
I was charged with painting a garden - one that was grown many years ago by an inspiring women named Elizabeth. Her granddaughter, Author Maura Cheeks, is opening a bookstore in her honor and my garden mural was going to grace the hidden children’s reading nook. Liz’s Book Bar, is an amazing new spot in Cobble Hill, Brooklyn that provides books, coffee, drinks, and community to the neighborhood. Liz grew roses, eggplants, cucumbers, tomatoes, daffodils, and peonies. I designed her garden mural in an under-the-stairs book nook, for kids and adults alike to sit with a good book and a good drink. One thing I was reminded of during this project is I love being on a construction site. I love the feeling of making something new, from something old. This is likely a hold over from my upbringing (those of you who’ve known me for a while know this well) where my family renovated and/or built every house we lived in. Lots of time spent creating, fixing, and dreaming up something to transform the space.
As I sat down to write about this project, I kept coming back to Michelangelo- not for any comparison of my work (lol) - but because of how his work, specifically the Sistine Chapel, lives on uniquely for each person who enters it. How will my book nook mural find someone who enters it? Will a child fall onto the pillows with a new book in hand and spot the hidden lady bug flying among the cucumbers? Will a tired commuter pop in on her way home, grab a glass of wine, and take a deep breath as she finds that exact shade of coral she loves in the peonies? Will two friends from college decide to meet up and stumble upon the nook, sit cross-legged face to face to catch up over hot mugs of tea as it snows outside? I love the idea that murals, like this one, create a space. They take something empty and build something new. Thats why I love mural work so much - because it transforms how a space is used. How we convene, or rest, or reflect in it. How we unclench our fists and look to the sky. I hope you can visit this little space and take the moment that you need. If you do, please take a photo and share it with me on my instagram @goodforthebees.
To visit:
With my two wild kiddos.
Can you find the ladybug?
With Owner and Author, Maura Cheeks
Tomatoes in sketch form.
Tomatoes in process.
Theo loving the tomatoes.
The space is incredible!
Getting comfortable with a good book.
Ladybug, bee, and clouds hiding.
My view out during installation.
The ant (for my friend Hannah!) and eggplants.
Realizing mommy made this.
Thanks for being here.
<3