A few weeks ago during a regular staff meeting, someone suggested that all six of us share a photo of something we’ve made for our moms for Mother’s Day (and a few words about it), whether it was years ago or… yesterday. Some GT staffers are artists, some are not, and in the end, our moms seem to love us whether what we create for them is fantastic or… maybe not quite the masterpiece we’d envisioned. And yet, we keep doing it.
Onward and upward. Happy Mother’s Day, all!
Last year, my mom relocated to the mountains of northern New Mexico and has since been living an almost fully self-sustainable life up there. Recently, she and her husband brought home a handful of baby chicks, and soon after I received a ton of cute photos of them at three weeks old. She named them Brunhilda, Gertrud, Willamina, Mildred (Millie), and Ester. So this Mother’s Day I made her a portrait of a few of these lovely, sassy chicks.
My father passed away 35 years ago, and my mother never remarried. Only two pictures of them together exist. The rest, including their beautiful black-and-white wedding photograph from the 1960s, and really all my family’s historical photographs, are forever lost — a story for another time.
I made this composite photograph of them both, from my mom’s old driver’s license photograph and my dad’s portrait. It is my way of having them share the same space in a photograph that they shared in their hearts. I hope she likes it.
(Note: Seth is an artist. And a rule-breaker. He gets a pass because Glasstire would be toast without him. He submitted an artwork one of his kids made for their mom — a charming painting. Artist in the making?)
My mom and I both always seem to have several bottles of Cetaphil going at once. When I travel and stay at her house, I don’t have to pack that big bottle. At some point, long ago, I painted a portrait of Cetaphil for her for Mother’s Day, and she framed it and it’s still up in her bathroom, which seems about right.
In my first semester of art school, I was experimenting with using index cards for short, almost mimetic drawings about gravity. I wanted to make something special for my mom, and so I compiled a set of them into a binder and gifted them over the holidays. The series didn’t go anywhere in particular, but she still has them, owing to her gracious nature.
This bouquet, made of a construction paper horn and decorated tissue paper flowers, was likely the product of a Sunday School Mother’s Day craft project. Like any proper artwork, it is signed and dated, and it proves to be a surviving example of the early work (2001) of an artist known by the name of “Brando n.”