From the Compost Heap header. A pencil style illustration of a compost heap with flowers and plants growing around it. A bee buzzes by and a white rabbit hops by.

  • Brain Fog ☁️

    I’m entering my 7th year of parenting.

    How did that happen?

    Within a year of giving birth I started making art to process my experience. That was the beginning of This is My Brain on Motherhood.

    Seven years later, I think I’ve fully integrated the identity of parent.*

    Which means I’d like to complete this collection, celebrate it somehow, and then move on to making art on other themes (like neurodivergence or perhaps chronic illness.)

    Gold scissors and baby clothes on a blue blanket

    One of the pieces I’ve struggled to complete is a soft sculpture brain made with baby clothes. From the first little brain noodle (the white washcloth center of the left hemisphere) I had the vision.†

    But sewing through layers of fabric is hard on the hands and pretty quickly I had split my skin and it was too painful to continue. I finally realized the easy injury and slow healing was due to a connective tissue disorder (more on that soon).

    I tried every thimble under the sun and none of them were dexterous enough to give me the fine motor control I wanted. I put the project down for months on end and picked it up a bit here and there – always ending up a little worse for wear after working on it.

    Eventually I discovered the needle puller from Mx. Domestic (in action above!) and was able to sew the second hemisphere of the brain.

    But I still felt stuck. It took a while to realize why. The form was coming together, but I was lost on its purpose. I still had no clarity on what the brain was meant to represent.

    It all felt a little too sentimental to be fine art, but too weird to not be.

    Sometimes my art begins with a concept I want to represent. Other times I start with the form first and find the meaning during the process.

    Workspace with sewing machine, scissors, chunky yard, and a baby sock which has been cut in half lengthwise.

    Least week, I saw an upcoming deadline for a project about chronic illness. And I suddenly realized, with a few changes, this piece has the potential to represent brain fog. A symptom of new motherhood and hEDS (one of my new chronic illness diagnosis’.)

    Instead of a complete brain my vision is now for half wool roving to spill out representing brain fog.

    Ending with this piece feels very full circle.

    It wasn’t my first work about motherhood, but was certainly one of the earliest. This piece held space for me to reflect as I sewed scraps of newborn onesies, toddler tees, and tiny socks.

    Having a connection to chronic illness – a theme I’d like to explore next – feels right. Perhaps this will even be a work that belongs in both collections.

    Blue sewing kit on a desk covered with snippets of chunky yarn encased in scraps of baby clothes.

    This is My Brain on Motherhood was created as part of my Artist’s Residency in Motherhood. ARIM is a free open source framework anyone can participate in created by interdisciplinary artist Lenka Clayton.

    I’ve intended to write a blog post about ARIM for oh, six or seven years. At this point I’ll probably give it a few months and write a full retrospective.

    This body of work was created with the intention of eventually hosting a solo art show. A pop up where I hung my art in my house and invited a handful of friends over to see it.

    Little did I know my art would travel to galleries across the U.S. and even be exhibited in New York City.

    I have other visions now, for celebrating the collection virtually, in a form that isn’t geographically limited.

    But I’m still working out the details.

    Would you be interested in…

    • “This is My Brain on Motherhood” art book / monograph
    • set of postcards
    • art prints
    • virtual artist talk

    If so hit reply and let me know!

    This project would be slotted for autumn or winter (after the summer book launch for How it Feels to Me.)

    Soft sculpture of a brain made from baby clothes. One hemisphere is sewn from baby socks, onesies and washclothes. Scraps sit on a wooden table to the side.

    I’ll be back next week with more neurodiversity chat.

    Perhaps literally! I’ve been working on a new podcasting set up.

    If there’s a topic you’d like me to cover send me a note and let me know.

    Thanks always for your support.

    Cheers,

    Sarah signed with a swoopy S
    FOOTNOTES

    * I knew autistics struggled with transitions, but this was one heck of a transition. I did NOT expect it would take this long to exit “crisis mode” and feel like I’m a person again. Nevertheless, I’m glad that making these pieces and creating Entwined & Ember were portals for me to explore the identities of mother and parent and what they means for me.

    † Shoutout to Mindy Sue Meyers for hosting the soft sculpture workshop and for encouraging me – even when I completely ignored her instructions and took things in my own direction.

    Read more: Brain Fog ☁️

  • Bloom Where You’re Planted

    A year or two before David was born my mom gifted me a weeping cherry tree for my birthday. It bloomed happily for a while and then a freeze split its bark and it became diseased and distressed.

    I did my best to save the tree, but last year it didn’t come back after winter. After a year of mentally preparing myself for this I decided to use the sinuous wood to make a sculpture and Nathan helped dig up as much of the root as possible.

    This month I’ve started stripping the bark.

    My title for this work is Bloom Where You’re Planted. As an autistic person this has always rankled because I am not always able to thrive in unsuitable environments.

    Here are some process photos.

    A time when the tree was happy.

    Photograph of cherry tree blossoms as screencaptured on Instagram stories.

    Before

    Sad tree half dead and half distressed.

    Dead tree in front of my studio.

    Shoutout to Nathan’s farm boy muscle. I never could have dug this up myself because of my connective tissue disorder.

    Progress

    After pruning and removing some branches I found it balanced nicely upside down.

    Dead tree sitting upside down on it's branches with it's root in the air. My gray green studio is seen behind.

    Cleaning

    David helped me clean the mud off the root. This project has been a family affair.

    My child and I are using a bucket of water to clean mud off the tree roots.
    Gloved hand washing mud off tree root with a scrub brush.
    Small blonde child cleaning muddy root with a toothbrush.
    My hand using a Swedish washcloth to remove a final layer of mud off a twisty tree root.

    Stripping Bark

    Closeup of cherry tree bark
    Closeup of cherry tree bark during removable process showing wood and cambium beneath.

    Removing the bark has been a very satisfying (if incredibly slow) process. Because of all the twists and turns in this particular tree I think I’m going to need some finer carving tools soon.

    Update: March 2025

    I am seated outdoors holding a mallet and hammer and chipping away at my sculpture. There is a bright blue sky behind me.
    Weeping cherry tree stands upside down with root in the air. The bark has begun to be stripped away.

    Read more: Bloom Where You’re Planted