La Valiente

You have no idea what she's getting up to, in there ...

I have enjoyed my time with this project, and I will be a little sad to see her go.  But 'A Woman's Work' is Los Angeles bound, for "Loteria VII" group arts exhibit with Cactus Gallery.
Vintage 'House of Windsor' cigar box measures 9.25"h 7.25"w 3"d.  This work stands on its own, open or shut.  It also comes with sawtooth hangers and wall bumpers on back.  For pre-sale information please contact Sandra Mastroianni with Cactus Gallery at sandra@cactusgalleryla.com

Loteria is a traditional Mexican game of chance, similar to Bingo, that uses images on a deck instead of plain numbers.  There are 54 images, each has a name and an assigned number.  The cards are very colorful and the imagery on them is broadly recognized in all of Mexico, other Latin American nations, and European nations.

Each year, Cactus artists are each assigned Loteria cards as inspiration for original works of art.  This year, I had the opportunity to create from card #12, known  as El Valiente, or The Courageous Man.

Naturally, I set out to create something fiercely female:  LA VALIENTE.  The Courageous Woman. The inspirations are endless:  There are as many different ways to be a warrior as there are women.  And every woman I've ever known has had to do battle on multiple fronts, day to day.  A woman's work is never done, they keep reminding us.  And don't we just know it.  Coming off of 2020, I felt that I had plenty to say on the subject.

The support I created for this tiny sewing table was built from a repurposed metal nose bridge, left over from 2020's massive mask-building efforts.  Thousands of artists and makers put their creative endeavors on hold to help fill the gaps in our nation's PPE supply chain, and I was proud to be among them, rearranging my entire studio to become a mask-building assembly line.  I was sewing as many hours as my hands and my eyes would allow, every day.  And I was humbled by all of the support I received, at this time:  Commission customers and gallery directors were gracious and patient; people in the local community stepped up to organize and distribute tools and supplies to those who were sewing.  Even manufacturing companies paused their usual efforts to contribute to the cause.  This is my grateful shout-out to everyone who worked, contributed, and supported our efforts.  It was an experience I will never forget, and this artwork is, in part, an homage to the national and the global efforts of artists in all genres who answered the call to action. 

I also incorporated some scraps left over from the mask building, into the work:  The fabric on the tiny sewing machine, and also the tiny Converse high tops, are both repurposed scrap material. 

Eighteen months into the pandemic, immunocompromised people are still fielding cruel and unnecessary commentary on our continued self-quarantine, often from the very people who's behaviors are putting us most at risk. This commentary is obviously unhelpful.  But it can also be funny:  I was recently dismissed by a man who had never even met me, save a single brief encounter through my window.  He dubbed me "The most pathetic thing he'd ever seen," "Weak," and my favorite, "Living in fear."  While irritating, his comments have also been a source of wicked amusement; he made a snap judgement based on an incredibly limited view --of an average looking, middle aged woman, standing behind the safety of her window.  But he has no idea what I'm actually getting up to, in here.

Often, the most important kinds of work get done behind the scenes. In the two full years leading up to the pandemic I was working with a group of women in my community to make some necessary changes:  Too many people in positions of authority have been ignoring, enabling, and even outright supporting the activities of known pedophiles and abusers of women and girls.  Our group set out to put a dent in that.  This difficult and exhausting work continued well into the pandemic of 2020, and while I was fielding those same insensitive comments?  I was also doing multiple battles on the community front, building stacks of masks, and also organizing stacks of witness statements.  And the women working with me?  They were sharing this difficult work while simultaneously tackling the challenge of teaching public school remotely.  All of us seemingly average, middle-aged women, working from behind our various windows.  No roaring crowds, no exciting high-speed chases; Nothing any casual observer from the outside might dub courageous; just one day after another working from home, at the screens or at the sewing machine (or in their cases, mostly screens; I at least got to mix it up a bit!).  Hundreds of pages of documents.  Hundreds of phone calls and emails.  Hundreds of masks.  Hundreds of hours at the screens, encouraging frightened children and frazzled parents.  All while navigating a pandemic. No parades. 

Any irritation I have been feeling over thoughtless comments is, I realize, irritation on behalf of all women, everywhere, especially those of us who live and work with chronic conditions.  Most of life's necessary work, done behind the scenes, is carried out, courageously, by women.  And a great good deal of the work that makes communities better and safer, is done by courageous middle-aged and mature women.  And throughout the pandemic, the massive majority of slack, nationally and globally, has been picked up and carried by courageous women of all ages.  And you really ought to be taking us more seriously.  Because we have, obviously, been busy; teaching children, building masks, picking up the slack ... taking out pedophiles.  Taking out their enablers.  Necessity has made us skilled when it comes to multi-tasking.  And we are not done.  We are just getting started. 

If you have been enabling abusers?  You might be next. 
A woman's work is never done.