One year feels like an eternity. It was about this time last year, when I took a swift pause to enjoy the experience that was to unfold. Beginning of December 2018, I found out I was pregnant and a miniature beating heart was shown to me on the tiny black-and-white screen by a lovely doctor with an East-German accent. The months to come were marked by permanent queasiness and vacillating moods. It came then, a better time that lasted for a few weeks, and about the term I was to meet my son, I could barely move myself around. Everybody around me kept telling me to “enjoy”, but the feeling was so radical so high and exceptional to me that I could not entirely grasp it. My body changed drastically as a whole. My brain re-setted.
The 1st of August this year, at almost 9 o´clock, I heard for the first time the voice that was about to viscerally transform my days and to give even the most mundane gesture a whole new meaning.
Erwin André, our son, is today 100 days old. His body smells like toasty organic pudding, his toy-sized feet are moist and feel like mini erasers. He laughs a lot, especially at his own reflection in the mirror, he giggles and babbles, chuckles, mumbles and grumbles and cries, he drools and farts, his hands reach and fumble everywhere, he kicks his legs and just won´t stay still.
My father visited us about a month ago and gave me a deeply touching gift: a sketchbook, a box of oil pastels, to keep up with my work and a bottle of Bulgari´s Omnia…
To honour our son´s arrival and to resume with my previous mosaic project, “The Skin of 100 Smells” (“La Peau des 100 Odeurs”), I will start, as of tomorrow, the “100 Days with Erwin”. My time management changed and the hours for creative work shrank drastically, yet I will try to dedicate a few minutes from the day for a drawing to mark an instant of the day, for 100 days. Let´s see how I can commit.
As of now, Erwin sleeps next to me, in his rainbow hoodie, it is 17:51h pm in Berlin, but it feels like 10h pm and I can taste the muggy fog outside announcing a long winter…
Just one more, to all you mothers out there, to all you parents out there, before I go breastfeeding, you are all heroes. A few months ago, I could not imagine to what point your work is monumental. 🙏