I'm 43. I had been a professional artist for 12 years then quit to go to graduate school, to rest my creativity, to recharge. When I reemerged from my cocoon I was divorced, remarried to a woman, realigned with my artist self and a mother. It's transformation that I'm interested in. My artwork and my writing are about how a life can change when enough heat, attention, and pressure are applied.

I conceived myself while going through the arduous process of getting pregnant in my late 30's using inseminations and donor sperm. I was forced to believe in myself over and over, in spite of my doubts and fears. I was unwilling to give up my dream of motherhood, of giving birth, of growing round and full with life. I ran with my own dark wolves, into a place that housed only desire. Rationality was held at bay by the piercing bark and bared teeth of determination. When I began inseminations I knew only that I had to start. I didn't know how I would support the baby, or if I'd ever have a partner. I just knew I had no more time to lose.

My visual journaling process took a similar course. I sat with paint and pen and willed myself to express---focusing only on the sound of nib on paper, of my brush swirling in water. If my mind went ahead I would get lost and critical. I began to notice that I felt satisfied with my work when I had no idea where it was going, and was willing to let this be okay. Like getting pregnant. Like discovering myself under the covers, inside the cracks in the sidewalk, in the dust collecting on the surface of a bronze figurine. I had to get out, I had to go home. There is nothing so profound and mystifying as finally achieving a goal, like successful pregnancy, only to discover that the challenges don't suddenly stop, but intensify.

Pregnancy was a dream come true. Pregnancy was a rocky boat far from shore. Pregnancy was about potential and willingness to be transformed. I had to let go. I had to experience being occupied by another life. To conceive a life I had to inseminate myself, I had to trust my fertility, I had to inhabit my body.

My artwork and writing will never be the same because I have changed. I'm not willing to be mediocre. I'm have to trust what I want. I have an understanding that things take time and that there's a delicate balance between patience and action. Having a baby is like being a baby and a mother at the same time. It's totally new, uncharted territory. It can be lonely, confusing, disarming. I feel both so young and so old---the wise one, the one who comforts, and innocence, unknowing, freshness. Having a baby gives me the courage to return to my life as an artist, not as a seasoned professional, but as a beginner. I have new eyes. I'm less afraid of learning from others, of trusting their feedback and of being guided. As mother and artist, I am emerging from a chrysalis eager to travel far, yet never stray far from home.

Contact me at:
Luna Jaffe
7724 SW 25th Ave
Portland, Oregon 97219
503-349-6312
luna@lunajaffe.com