Open Book

We would be in a shop, looking at art, or in a gallery. “You could do that.” She’d say, “you know you could.” For a long time, I couldn’t quite identify why this refrain bothered me. After all, she had unshakable faith in my ability. Finally, I found it: “I could. But I’ve chosen to do something different.” For mom, life was all infinite possibility. She really didn’t consider, or care much, how one set of choices might constrain other options. It was deeply affirming, and also a little sad, as if the thing I was in front of her wasn’t quite exciting enough.

She herself was an occasional artist, although less and less so as she grew older. She taught me a lot when I was very young, and we sometimes took painting workshops together. But she never stopped loving art of all kinds, especially illustration, never stopped encouraging her kids and grandkids.

I always drew, doodled in the margins, took art classes whenever I could.  But I started sketchbooks in earnest the year her cancer metastasized, the year we went to Ireland together; travel being the other passion she instilled in me. And when she was in hospice, I made an illustrated book for her.  See Mom? You were right.

How cool is it, to live long enough for second chances and reinventions? To move to a beautiful island and a warm community, to keep on drawing and sketching and illustrating, filling up page after page, book after book, finding new inspiration, learning new techniques. I am so grateful to so many people who have encouraged me, made this exhibit possible: Megan Hastings, Adam Cone, Erin Castle, Jim Meiklejohn, Shelley Hanna, Michael Whitmore, Darsie Beck, Sue Hardy, and my California painting mentor, LeeAnn Brook. 

But to the memory of the one who made all of this possible, from her house on the North End to her endless faith in and encouragement of me, I dedicate this exhibit: to my mom, Susan Burke, 1940-2014.