"Luca"

I'm getting very tired of seeing my daughter's name as follows:

"Luca"

In quotation marks.

As if she were some idea, title, or concept.

As if she was some "thing" that might have happened, but fell short. A failed project, prospect, or possibility. 

As if her heart beat didn't quit until the last second. As if she never had a heart beat...

As if she wasn't a real human baby, because she only made it to five months instead of nine...

I would like to apologize to my friends and family who donated money to "Luca".

 Because in the end, that project had nothing to do with her.

I promoted it, thinking it did. I was wrong.

There is "Luca", and then there is my daughter, Luca.

I made the above art work with her in mind through the whole process.

I went out into the woods in Plymouth with my little 35mm plastic camera. I shot
some double exposures. This one was simply taken by one straight-on shot, doubled on another with the camera turned upside-down on the same scene, on black and white film.

 In the middle of the fame, I saw "LUCA", framed. I couldn't have planned it if I tried. The branches did the work for me.

 I listened to music, painted the light spots in with watercolors.

 I hadn't used watercolors for quite some time before that, it was really nice.

 I did it for her. And I loved it.

Out of anything I've ever created, It's my favorite.

Because I like to think she helped me out with the coincidental placement of those branches.

I'd expect no less from my daughter.

:)

 

 

 

   

To Be Thankful:

The holiday season is in full force. 

I love this year more than the last...

This year taught me that I was capable of a love that I had never experienced previously. 

It altered my sense of self.

I threw aside my habits, whether they were normal, bad or fun.

It wasn't just about me anymore, and I was glad for that.

I was ready to give it up.

For Luca: 

  

I wanted to find the most comfortable bath tub for you.

I researched the most effective ways to teach you how to sleep through the night without feeling abandoned. 

 I read French parenting books, and was excited about teaching you the art of taste at a young age. We would eat le bleu, and of course I would have taught you how to appreciate Japanese dishes. You would have known the difference between oolong-cha and ryoku-cha.

Your car seat would have been the safest on earth. 

I would have taught you how to use watercolor paints. You would have made a mess.

I had already chosen your swaddling cloths. They had bees and giraffes on them.

I already had a set of Lincoln Logs ready for you. I had hoped to teach you how to build things from
scratch, despite all of your peers being raised on iPads. I wanted to show you how to make a tree fort with a hammer and salvaged nails, just like I did when I was at the age you should have reached.

You would have been two months old now.

   Everything should have been wonderful now.

Maybe you were just too beautiful for this world.