My pre-Christmas time ♥

Hello everyone! Hope you're having a nice pre-Christmas! For as long as I can remember, Christmas time has been a time of sickness, not just for little ones but for us too. This week I have been fighting with all my power against an ear infection and finding it quite difficult to keep focus on my blog. However, today was a better day and I managed to use my birthday voucher (my birthday was back in September!) and was 'escorted' by one of my very good friends to the nail shop. I had a back massage, a foot massage, mani and pedi and even managed to have my eyebrows waxed! Check me out getting some 'me time' again! 

My husband is usually always happy to let me go whenever the opportunity comes but today he was a bit stroppy because "we have so much to do!"... yes, he's right, like all practical men he knows exactly how much needs to be done and how long it will take to do it... Well, needless to say I won!

Dixie also felt very festive today and wanted to go shopping with baubles for earrings. Again, my husband wasn't to keen on the idea...but needless to say she won too!!!

As always, I took pictures of this. I love documenting my children's experiments with the surrounding world. It almost feels like an ongoing collaboration... As with my soon to be featured 'cut out' project, in these images I was very attracted to the 'other subject' - the one that you didn't focus on at first. In this case it's me in the photographs rather than my beautiful Dixie, who has been severely cropped out. 

'The other subject' was an important detail for me. I tend to record my children's life all of the time by taking photos - all their little achievements and creative moments. But this time I can see myself behind the lens. Roles -subject and artist (mother and daughter)are merged within the context of the photos. My memories become hers and her memories become mines.

Now, it's almost 12 o'clock and I am really tired. I'm looking at the pictures I've taken today of my groomed nails and I can't help but thinking 'how long will they last?'... Whilst I was cooking dinner tonight I repeatedly checked them, making sure they still looked pretty and tidy. Tomorrow I will probably already have forgotten and in less than 48 hours I won't even care any more. That's because I know they won't last. The reality is such that I cannot be that careful. I am a full on mother of three who cooks 3 times a day from scratch, I have 2 children in nappies and a 6 year old who's devoted to craft activities. So what are the chances?

This is what my nails look like tonight; Sunday 22nd of December 2013 at 11:46.

I'm planning on keeping a diary to record all the 'accidents' my nails are about to encounter ... Come back in a few days time and find out what happened!

In the mean time Merry Christmas to you all!

Lots of love 

Amy xx

Amy Dignam 2013 ©

Sleeping ♥

Sleeping is a good memory of mine. I think that when I took these photos back in 2005 I'd somehow foreseen into the future. As I come across these today I couldn't help but thinking what a easy life I had back then. I mean, what did I do all day? Yes, I had a job but still. 

At the end of the day instead of coming straight home I would go to the gym or meet Mike or some friends for a drink and then maybe end up going for a meal in some or other restaurant. I would watch movies I planned to and not just random ordinary and dull films that happen to be on telly. 

Life has changed indeed and looking at these pictures 8 years on I can't help but feel they were made to tease me in the future...the future that is happening now. 

If I could say one thing to myself back then would probably be "Sleep Amy, sleep, sleep and then sleep some more!"

Amy Dignam 2005 ©

It's Christmas time ♥

Yes, it is! I must say though that my excitement about Christmas died during the late '90s and early noughties, around the time I decided to leave my country and come to the UK.  My decision, although thoroughly thought out was also based on my survival instinct.

Back then things weren't great for me and I knew I had to do something drastic. My mum was the only person I truly loved and I just wanted to be with her. As paradoxical this might sound, I decided the only way to be able to cope with the things life was throwing at me was to leave her instead. Our hearts broke but we both knew that for life to continue this was a step that needed to be taken.

I have never met anyone as courageous as my mother and you'll often see me writing about her. I sometimes ask myself if I would ever have the courage to let one of my children go as she did with me. 

I was a complicated person but she "got me". As a matter of fact, coming to London saved my life and indeed changed it for the better too - and I only have my mum to thank.

For me Christmas doesn't bring back many childhood memories, in fact only a few come to mind. But the feeling of happiness during my early years definitely emerges and now, after many years of glossing over Christmas, I can finally start enjoying it again...albeit through the eyes of my children.

The build up is by far the best thing about Christmas. The countdown on the various advent calendars scattered around the house, the secret talks between me and my husband Mike about the choice of presents, the shopping, the hiding and the night before when we get going on the wrapping over a glass or two of port. A great deal of preparation and labour goes into my Christmas these days but the happiness always outways the fatigue.

I'm usually late sending my Christmas cards too, but not this year. Not sure what came over me... but today it's only the 12th of December and my cards are in the post box ready to be delivered. This year Dixie designed the card and this is what it looks like:

I also made a little celebratory installation this Christmas.  Too often I get sucked into my own universe thinking about the chaos in my life and forgetting that in the end, my life is not that bad at all. It's not very often I take the opportunity to pause and appreciate it (Although I think I do, I don't!). So this week I got to reflecting upon it.

"Unmade Christmas Tree" is a work made out of clothes belonging to me and my family, randomly layered one at the top of the other to form the shape of a Christmas tree. However uncool and unpopular, I decided to use the Christmas tree shape. It makes sense to me right now as for many, Christmas is indeed a time of reflection and a collective memory. 

In this work I try to create order by placing and balancing the clothes - in the same way as I try to arrange and control my everyday life. One on top of the other, a bit wobbly and precarious, each item supports the next just as we try to do day after day.

This pile of clothes in the shape of a Christmas tree symbolises the passage of time and the mourning (in advance) of my children's passing childhood and my most precious moments. 

Amy Dignam 2013 ©  

Today I washed my hair ♥

Some of you might think 'big deal!'... And you're right! In my life at the moment even finding the time to wash my hair is difficult, and when that moment comes it is indeed a 'big deal'!

I started writing this blog with the intention of collecting and channelling my creativity but as expected, my busy schedule doesn't allow me to post everyday. However, in future I will try harder to regularly publish modest posts amongst the very long, important ones
so as to remain faithful to my original concept of this 'Five a Day' blog.

Today I'm beginning a 'lighthearted' series of posts which will hopefully continue whenever something small but nonetheless relevant occurs.

The images below were taken today. One of my friends came by to baby sit the children for a couple of hours so that I could take care of a few things around the house. I carelessly decided to gloss over all the house work that needed doing and took a long bath instead. I loved it and I needed it! 

'Today I washed my hair' is the first in a series of pictures documenting how simple everyday rituals can become of great significance when you can't do them as often as you used to... and so rewarding when you get them back.

If any of my friends are reading this come and give me a hug tomorrow and get lost in the fragrant smell of my rainforest flowers hair!

Amy Dignam 2013 ©

Daily Bread ♥

After my third child was born I struggled. I never thought I could get postnatal depression. I never really thought of it as a real condition. I know how this must sound; mothers often talk about postnatal depression, but back then it was almost like 'I was listening but not hearing'. The information would become so distorted that by the end I wasn't really sure what to make of it. So for me, everything I understood of postnatal depression came as a 'Chinese whisper'. 

To be perfectly honest, I never read much about it either but, being around so many mothers, I knew of a few who'd had it. Now looking back I never fully realised what they were going through. 

My very first experience of being a mother was all about partying with family and friends and feeling joy and relief at not being dead after giving birth. The immense love I felt for this little baby surpassed everything else. Why would anyone feel down after giving birth to their child? I really couldn't comprehend it.

Even today after having experienced postnatal depression myself, I still don't quite understand what happened. All I know is I was struggling to get to the end of the day. As people would say 'I wasn't coping'. I wasn't coping with the amount of work, the constant attention required of me and the complete annulment of my own self. In the future I will post a few photos taken during my very low days, but today I'm going to share with you the bread work. 

That's how it all started. Angry Eyebrows at breakfast.

I wasn't even trying to make my children eat. It just happened and now I have a collection of different bread emoticons. However, this is the one I feel represented me the most. Don't ask me why I was angry, I wouldn't be able to give you a straightforward answer. I guess that at times I felt like life was unfair and as I struggled through my day I was constantly reminded of it. Angry Eyebrows picture is my personal mental note not to take life too seriously, to relax and just enjoy what comes and goes. 

This is what happened next:

I felt lonely. My husband working so hard and me back home spending the days with 3 little children... As much as you love them and would do anything for them you still need your space! I gave myself such a hard time thinking I was being difficult and should have got a grip. But in retrospect I think that essentially I couldn't accept being human. It was only human to feel the way I felt. I know that now.

These painted slices of bread talk about my frustrations during those days. Many have random words written on them - words that were part of the thoughts polluting my brain. It's difficult to pin point exactly what or when things went wrong. I just opened my eyes one day and there I was, without a choice left facing this illness. I guess that painting my children, and other random things I related to at that time, occupied my mind and somehow liberated it for a short while. Depression is just a stop on the way to acceptance and I think in my case painting bread sat somewhere between point A and point B.

My third child is now 1 year old and all those feelings have somehow gone. Of course I get my down days but I don't feel 'chronic' as I did last year. We still don't know what causes postnatal depression but one thing is sure, so much is expected from us as mothers; from our choice of birth to the way we feed our children, we often start this new journey being made to feel we've already failed. These days so much more is understood of our children and their world that it's difficult for us to tick all the boxes... 

Things could have gone worse but luckily I managed to surface. I knew I was getting better when this work happened, it's called 'Seeing it through'.

© Amy Dignam 2013

Ana Mendieta - Traces ♥

Ana Mendieta's post...Finally! I went to see her exhibition 'Traces' exactly a week ago but only today I managed to write about it. The thing is, this week has been "one of those weeks".

"One of those weeks" for me means too much planned and not enough sleep! My little boy constantly wakes during the night and my husband and I are even sleeping in different bedrooms with a view to crack down Cooper's sleeping habits very soon...we hope... In the meantime I'm not sleeping and during the day I cope as well as I can; trying to stay awake and control my patience which, unsurprisingly, runs very thin!

But this is not the only reason why this post has been delayed. The other reason is, I just didn't know where to start!

The truth is that I was utterly overwhelmed by the impossible amount of artwork I was presented with on Saturday and each and every one contained an incredible story behind it, delivering so much more than words can describe.

Mendieta has a huge life history. Born in Cuba in 1948 she grew up during the Cuban Revolution. In 1961, many children were evacuated to America during 'Operation Peter Pan' and Mendieta was sent to the USA by her family where she eventually studied art. She died in 1985 after falling from her 34th floor apartment in New York which she shared with her husband, the minimalist sculptor Carl Andre. A veil of mystery surrounds her death as neighbours are said to have heard the couple arguing violently on that morning. Andre was trialled for murder but there was insufficient evidence and he was released. The case was closed as a possible accident or suicide.

So back to the gallery - the exhibition seemed to be spilt in two parts and from what I could see there were two sides to Ana Mendieta emerging from it.

The first was undoubtedly my favourite. Her early works of body performances were so truthful and intense. She had such a huge range of issues that she needed to explore - genre stereotypes, abuse, murder, death, but also female identity, nature, continuation and freedom.

'Sweating blood' 1973 and 'Untitled (Glass on body Imprints) 1972

The body is always present in her work and she is not afraid of it. She bleeds, she squashes, she changes its form and shape and, at times, she buries it too.

'Body Tracks' 1974, 'The tree of life' 1977 and 'Imagen de Yagul', from the series 'Silueta' 1973 

In the first room you can see pictures from her 'Untitled (Facial hair transplant)'. In this work she takes hair from a friend's beard and glues it on to her own face. This was the first of her works I ever saw and I remember being blown away. I was about 15 years old. Why was I so fascinated by that image? If I look around now most 15 years old would think it weird or funny! I guess that I was a rebellious, go against the system(nightmare)teenager and that image spoke to me. It was the 'going against nature' concept that intrigued me. It was the break from genre stereotypes. It was controversial and I loved it.

'Untitled(Facial hair transplant)' 1972

In the second part of the exhibition the body is still very much present but not in a material way. It is outlined and its shape is imprinted in the ground, the stone or the wood, like a mark left in the earth after dying. 

She went back to her home country and in her work one can sometimes see her search for a home by looking into the earth itself. The earth is female and 'matriarchal' and in these works she merges her body with it, connecting, bonding, suggesting the enduring cycle of life. Here then is when her work suddenly changes, bringing the outside into her studio - the beginning of a new direction, brought to a premature end because of her sudden death.

Untitled (Guanaroca [First Woman]) and 'Mud and sand figures'

And at the end, just when you thought it was all over, there was a slide show of unedited photographs from Ana's personal archive.  Playing on big screens were behind the scenes documentation, drafts, sketchbooks, gallery submissions and artist statements along with personal items such as postcards and diaries, all adding another dimension to Ana as a person.

Mine and Ana Mendieta's notebooks 

I highly recommend you go and see this exhibition. It is on at the Hayward Gallery until December 15th. 

Peas in a Bucket ♥

One thing that I've found myself constantly doing since having children is picking things up from the floor. Not just random things, I mean toys around the house, clothes, books and food! Peas are the worst thing to pick up. You think you've got them all but then after a few days you find another one hiding in some obscure corner, dried and hard like a stone. I hate picking peas up so much it's put me off eating them.

I once counted how many times I'd repeated this same action in one day and was amazed to discover I actually bent down 219 times in 12 hours!

Who needs to work out? I thought. Well "Peas in a Bucket" comes from my awareness of these repetitive actions performed everyday, testing my physical limits and my psychological strength. Of course kneeling down 219 times a day sounds hideous but they’re spread out, so one doesn’t really register it’s happening.

In the film, I aim to gather those moments into one. I do it consecutively without stopping as a way to acknowledge the effort and struggle during my everyday and also to expose, in perhaps a more drastic way, how a simple and infrequent (for some) action like picking something from the floor can become so exhausting and tedious.

Amy Dignam 2013 ©

November half term fun ♥ (a few weeks late!)

This past half term we went to Kent and stayed in a caravan for a few days. It was quite badly timed as all the south-east was expecting to be swept away by a hurricane. Luckily the caravan which belongs to Mike's sister, sat just outside her house, between cauliflowers fields and Maston airport. So, during the weather's worst moments, we were able to run indoors and camp on my sister-in-law's living room floor. Exciting times.

Apart from dodging hurricanes and eating loads, we managed to visit
Broadstairs, Sandwich and along some of the coast. We also went to Turner Contemporary in Margate. 

Turner Contempoary is a beautiful modern building overlooking the sea. Even when inside, you still get the feeling of being outside. The high ceilings, the big windows and the immense natural light are so cleverly combined. In such a cold and windy day it's comforting to just sit on one of the benches alongside the white walls and watch the sea rant and rage. 

Upstairs in the exhibition hall one can float around the best of british romantic painters but also admire contemporary pieces from the temporary exhibition which, in this case, showcases works by the Irish artist Dorothy Cross.

I knew Dorothy Cross from her previous works amongst which, her famous 'Virgin Shroud' installation. However, I am so pleased to have had "bumped" into one of her shows as I totally rediscovered her genius. Cross's exhibition at the Turner Contemporary somehow transcends the limits of being human - mixing the body and the environment every which way and creating connections between impossible items. I'm referring in particular to her 'Shark Heart Submarine' installation, where she took a real shark heart (found on Connemara beach and locked it inside a shiny silver submarine model). 

She says:

“I am very interested in what is repulsive and what is beautiful, because in our own bodies we are so confused about that, in terms of sexuality and our own mortality. The shark epitomises that, too, in terms of fear and desire and misunderstanding.”


Once back in London I took the kids down Hanover Square where artists Damien Hirst and Felix Gonzales-Torres are paired up for an exhibition called 'Candy'. 

Hirst's paintings were made as a direct response to an art critic who had discredited his previous Spot Paintings as 'just visual candy'. Painted in bright colours, at first these images don't fail to deliver happiness. However, it's a chemical happiness. Once you read the description you learn that these colourful spots actually resemble medicinal pills. Suddenly they start to assume a different look. The images become distorted, muddled and run through with tension. 

Feliz Gonzalez-Torres died in 1996 at 39 years old. He often produced installations where the viewer could take a piece of the work with them contributing to its disappearance. In this instance, diminishing the work by eating the sweets.

The kids were delighted when the janitor told them they could actually eat a few. What a strange concept 'edible art' must be for a child... Dixie had to make sure this was actually true by asking me a few more times if 'she could really pick and eat'. Maybe not for the same reasons, but I am also equally impressed with art that you can touch, eat, move... I guess it's because I see it like "if you eat art you're bound to become it". I'm intrigued by the shifting of the attention from something sitting still in a gallery that then moves, changes shape and form but in the end remains connected to its original purpose. 

During the weekend we wound down before going back to school. Dixie vanished upstairs and told me not to go in her room until I was called. A few minutes later an ululate came from her bedroom resembling my name. I went upstairs where I was presented with two quickly sketched chalk drawings and two handwritten reviews of Turner Contemporary and the Candy exhibition. What more could a mother ask for eh?? 

Here are the drawings:

"Candy" and "Landscape". These two drawings were inspired by Damien Hirst and J.M.W Turner.

And below you can see (but probably can't read) her review!

In the first review 'Candy', she wrote: "the artist that made the installation unfortunately died but left instructions to other people on how to make it again and again so that we are still able to go and enjoy his work".

In the Turner Contemporary review, she wrote: "painters at the time were travelling to Italy to learn how to paint landscapes. However, a big war in France meant they couldn't travel and so they had to learn by themselves!"

Got to love her ♥

Living in London- 'Saints Alive' exhibition, Dixie's review ♥

I never thought I was going to have three children (or even one for that matter!). Anyway, after Dixie I thought that was it. I put all my time and effort into her upbringing. From the age of six months I regularly took Dixie to the theatre, exhibitions, art galleries, museums and general happenings around London. That's it, this is the thing! London! 

I came from a really small town called San Remo. When I was a young girl my parents worked all the time, so nothing really happened until I was that little bit older and able to go places on my own. If I wanted to go to an exhibition, an art gallery or a concert I would have to travel to Milan, Turin or Genoa which are all a good 3 to 4 hours away by train. Nothing happened in my hometown. The popular "Festival di San Remo", a folk/singing festival, was the most interesting thing that happened and once a year me and my friends made sure we were in the thick of it for the whole week. That meant standing all day in front of the Ariston Theatre in the rain, waiting for singers and bands to come down the red carpet and to see them for half second - or hide behind bushes in front of hotels waiting to see a posh car with blacked out windows drive by. Madness! 

Living in London to me is incredible. I feel blessed every single day and I don't care when people complain about the weather, the traffic or the tourists, I still love it and wouldn't change it for anything in the world. People often ask me if I would ever go back to Italy. What for? I say. Why would I deprive my children of London? We have amazing parks, galleries, museums, multicultural neighbourhoods - everything you need to learn is on our doorstep. No, I have no desire to go back to Italy and with it go back in time. I am happy here and in the future, if they ever feel the need to move away, I will be supporting them every step of the way. But for now we stay put. 

Things have changed a lot since having 3 kids. I can't go exploring around as much and most days I stay local. However, I still like to take them around town to see the occasional show at the theatre or an exhibition etc. One of the last times I took Dixie out was a few weeks ago when we went to see "Saints Alive", the latest Michael Landy exhibition at the National Gallery. We read about it before going and there were lots of questions like "What are saints?" etc. etc. I must say that, apart from the loud noises, she really enjoyed looking at the "alive" sculptures and was very inquisitive about the whole body of work. In fact she was so immersed in the experience that she never once complained of being bored. So, below is the exhibition in her own words (with maybe a few prompts). From time to time I will post Dixie's reviews of events happening in town as I believe other children might feel stimulated by it and the grown ups motivated to go out and experience our beautiful city, London...

"Me and you went to London to see the Saints Alive exhibition. We were excited. We like art and the exhibition looked very interesting. We saw a lady trying to pull her teeth out. It was very noisy "bang, bang!", I was a bit scared because the noise was very loud.

Saint Apollonia, Michael Landy 2013

There was another man that when he did something bad, would bang a stone on his chest. He also was a saint. Saints help and they are very clever. They are special people that help people. There was another saint with a sword that chopped his head because he was mad at himself. But I don't know why. Then we saw the wheel. There was lots written on the wheel. We also watched a video of the artist who made these sculptures. He went around looking in the gallery before making his artwork... but why weren't we allowed to take photos?... Anyway, the sculpture I liked the most was the wheel because it could tell the future and the one I liked the least was the man chopping his head because I don't like people dying."

Dixie, 6 years old.

Mix Saints, Michael Landy 2013

You can see Michael Landy's 'Saints Alive' at the National Gallery - Trafalgar Square London WC2N 5DN, until November 24th. Admission Free.  

Coming back from the school run ♥

Doing the school run must be one of those things that after a while becomes so automatic one doesn't even notice it anymore. Switch to auto-pilot and off you go... Every morning my routine is based on choices of cereal followed by "Can I have something else?" and then, one by one, they all go through the same process; wash, clean teeth, brush hair, get dressed and out. Of course it is never that straight forward. 

Today on the way back from school Dakota wanted to walk, so we strolled around looking at what autumn has on offer this year. It must have been raining last night as the streets were soaking wet and the puddles at the edge of the pavements had fun and games with reality.

I'm not sure how many pictures of puddles I have taken through my career as an artist. The thing is I never get bored of seeing how distorted or spectacular the world is seen through them!

Reflections in water reveal notions of fairy tales. The world becomes dreamy and what's there turns into the stuff of memories. I just love how the pavement and sky becomes one - reality and dream.

These few snaps were taken this morning on the way back from the school run. There's something utterly melancholic about these images although they've only just been taken. It's a moment, a specific moment in life that, just as many an untold story, goes unnoticed. 

Amy Dignam 2013 ©

Flowers in the potty ♥

Potty training was a walk in the park the first time round. Dixie had just turned two when I bought her very first pair of knickers to wear. She was delighted and so was I. She loved using the potty. She would sit on it and play for a very long time. She never had an accident, not even at night and she would even hold it if asked to.

Of course, back then, I only had her and my whole attention and energy went into teaching her and helping her in life. However, I am now having to train my middle child and I'm finding it very difficult. Whoever said that second time around is easier was lying! My Dakota is not interested in the slightest about using her potty or the toilet. She is happy in her nappy and why shouldn't she be? She sees how much attention little Cooper gets when changing his nappy so she wants the same for herself. Fair enough. The thing is though, she's soon turning 3 and I feel the pressure is on to make her a proper, independent, potty trained mini-adult. I can't be having her going to nursery still in nappies... Or can I? 

I know Dakota will eventually crack the code of potty training (I mean, I am 36 years old and still haven't met a fully grown person who needs a nappy change during a meeting or in the middle of a conversation!)so my hopes are high. But in the meantime peer pressure is on and the red potty is sitting in our living room adopting different practises but never its intended one. Some days it is used as a hat, others as a container. Some days nobody even looks at it. The reality is that the red potty has become a pretty redundant object that inhabits our living room. The last time I looked it was covered in dust and a tiny spider had made its house in it. 

'Flowers in the potty' it's my effort and contribution towards the red potty use whilst waiting for Dakota to be ready for it. Hopefully she won't need it in the middle of one of my installations...

Amy Dignam 2013 ©

What to do on a rainy day ♥

This is not your usual craft workshop for a rainy day. Leave your glue and pencils behind and take out your camera and make up bag and get ready to pop-art yourself!

First of all, you need to know that I have always liked pop art. My first memory of it is of being in my bedroom making repetitive paintings of my mum's washing powder container. It was a french make called 'Gama'.I was only a young girl then and what attracted me to it were the bright colours, the objects repetitions and the idea that everything could be turned into art. I would spend hours browsing my mum's products cabinet looking for inspiration.

Andy Warhol was one of the first real artists I ever got in to. I remember once when I was 16 or 17 years old I went to an exhibition in Turin. I was cruising the gallery checking all those new (to me) artists, and quickly taking notes down in my faithful book when, I turned a corner and suddenly found myself in front of Andy Warhol's Volcano. It was the biggest work of art I'd ever seen for real. I was so excited I felt slightly sick. 

Few months ago I went to see the Lichtenstein retrospective exhibition at the Tate Modern. It was a Saturday afternoon and one of my rare "days off". The exhibition was so popular that entries were divided in to slots.  I got there at 1pm and I was eager to get in, both because of the excitement of finally seeing the exhibition and because I was panicking, thinking how long can this last before receiving the dreaded phone call from the husband saying "you need to come home". Anyway, I approched the till with my card in my hand and bought my ticket. I was so happy, I was smiling and I reassured myself "it's happening" when the nice lady behind the till told me I would have had to wait until quarter past two before going in... "What??? Don't you know I have kids? Don't you know this is my first day off in months? Don't you know my little one can decide any minute he had enough of this 'mum-free' afternoon and I could receive a call and would have to rush back home? Please, please, please let me in. Surely one more person in there won't make that big a difference!"... "Sorry, no. You'll have to wait" the not-so-nice anymore, irrational and totally out of order lady said.

I was lucky, no-one called. So I sprinted in once my turn arrived. The exhibition was inspiring to say the least. Lichteinstein's whole career was before my eyes. Every single step of his work unfolded in front of me from his cartoon imageries to his "Whaam!"painting, finishing with the mind blowing "Landscape with boat". It all made sense. What an artist.

I took as much as I could back home with me. So much that during the following weeks Lichtenstein images were always on my mind. Everything kept flashing back along with the memory of my younger self in love with pop art. 

30 years on and still I find myself in love with everyday objects and I still look at the world thinking that essentially, everything could be turned into art. I love this feeling of endless combinations. One afternoon I watched a short film on the Tate website where a make up artist was showing how to 'pop-art yourself' in a few easy steps. I really wanted to do it but knew it would have been a mission to do so with 3 little ones running around constantly asking me for something. It was a horrid rainy day and plans of meeting up with other mums for coffees seemed a bit pointless to me (there's only a small number of times I can face a packed coffee shop, with the children)...So anyway, we stayed in and instead of 'pop-arting' myself, I 'pop-arted' them! Needless to say the girls loved it, especially Dixie who finds any excuse to put on some make up, only this time it wasn't what she expected... 

Unfinished

Do you fancy giving it a go? - Use some basic foundation on the face first. Apply red lipstick and bright blue eye shadow. With a black eye liner draw around the eyes, the eyebrows, the nose, the mouth and all around the outline of the face. Take a red lip pencil and draw small dots all over the face. Once you're done, use a white nail pencil to add some light to the mouth. Hair and back ground were added later with Photoshop. You can post some of your experiments if you like, I would love to see them!

Amy Dignam ©

Home Truths ♥

'Home Truths' is a voyeristic step inside the world of motherhood. Not in a fashionable way but in fact, the opposite. Unstylish, dramatic and at times, I think, not socially approved.  

The photographs tell stories of intimate relationships between mother and child. Most times the narrator is the mother, sometimes is the 'child'. Sometimes the conversation that happens in the pictures is with unborn children, hoped for children, never to be here children.

The exhibition really touches many issues and as a mother, I could easily relate to every single image, being it for recognising the situation from my own experience or for it to be evoking something within me whether to be fear or respect. 

Being a mother is ever so intense and challenging. Seeing it all before my eyes was overwhelming to say the least.

'Home Truths. Photography, Motherhood and Identity' is showing at the Photographers Gallery in London 16-18 Ramillies St W1F 7LW, until Jan the 5th.

www.thephotographersgallery.org.uk/home-truths-3

Amy Dignam 2013 ©