Mom and Dad Go with Me on a Bike Ride

  Today I rode my regular bike ride, the same route I've taken, with very little variation, since 1991. I don't ride every week but I sometimes ride 3 times in a week. Lately I haven't been able to make the time. I knew I needed to ride and that it would be the one thing which would break me to the other side of how I've been feeling lately, mentally and physically. I know that it makes a huge difference in the quality of my life. I know this, but it had been probably 2 weeks since my last confession--er ride.

One of Dad's more controversial works, alter and mural with sculptures, St. Augustine church, Houston

  It takes about an hour to complete my ride. Once on my bike, time immediately stands still. The great thing about taking the same ride for so many years is that it sort of takes me for a ride. I don't have to think about which way to go. It's like my bike knows. I am freed up to THINK and when I do notice my surroundings it's all about the nuance. Everything that is different from the last rides I notice as if it's highlighted in neon. Certain trees in bloom--and trees actually relocated from one side of the street to the other (that was really funny) and so much development in this city...

  But I really meant to write about my father. I only mentioned the bike ride because it's what enabled me to concentrate long enough to know what was really holding me back for the last 2 weeks. My Dad died about a year and one half ago and this week I am participating in an art show/fund raiser to benefit his widow who is still digging herself out of the mountain of medical bills and financial ruin which resulted from his injuries due to a welding accident and his subsequent inability to produce work for the last few years of his life. He was an artist, a sculptor, mostly. His life serves as a confusing mix of what to do and what to avoid as an artist. It's just I don't always know which is which.

Dad with the "Zoo Friends", in front of the African Elephant sculpture, our driveway, Houston

 For instance, he actually made a living as an artist. His work sold really well, and for a long time, in the Houston area, throughout the United States and somewhat even in Europe. We had some tight years for sure and he didn't do it alone; my Mom was there at every step, lending her keen organizational skills and sheer aesthetic grace. But he and my Mom had a family of 7 to support and it's a rare artist who can actually make a living with their art, much less, support a family. So that's a success I'd do well to learn from.

  But he was complicated. I think today he would probably have been diagnosed as manic depressive. He had a horrible and damaging temper. He was incredibly intelligent. He had a weakness for alcohol. He knew how to work a room. He put his art and career before his family--or so it seemed to us. When my parents finally divorced after 26 years of marriage we were all devastated, including him.

   I loved him, of course, but there were times when I wanted to do everything different than what he did. I wanted a balanced artistic life and a happy family. I didn't want to be the kind of artist whose bad behavior people excuse because they're an Artist. Yet I never wanted to be anything else than an artist. Always and still. So for many years I cultivated more of my mother's traits. She worked tirelessly on the sidelines helping his career and gently raising their children. She did all his billing, his filing, his PR; she kept a beautiful house, gave dinner parties for important collectors and never appeared anyway but glamorous and chic.

   This approach has not necessarily served me well.

   So, on my bike ride I revisited this theme. I know that I tend to behave more like my mother and that tapping into my father's aggressive and even risky strengths is important for me if I want to thrive and grow. It is all the more challenging for me because some of the other things my mother taught me, consciously or not, are how to be ladylike, polite, patient; and how to demure.

  I gave myself a talking to. I recommitted to embracing the wealth of wonderful traits in both my parents from whom I've gained so much and I resolved to put my own particular spin on being an artist...this way of being, that I am still inventing.