Oyster spat swim through murky waters, rich with organic matter that settles into pluff mud, soft as silk, in perpetual motion, teaming with life. I imagine this is what I might see from under water in a tidal creek: a stream of oyster spat spawned, dispersed into the vast sea in search of their first home, a resting place offering shelter, sustenance and community. By what miracle do these miniscule organisms reach a safe bed?
We humans are not so different. How do any of us find ways to thrive? Each with our own individual joys, challenges on an uneven, ever-shifting playing field. My imaginative spat paintings give me hope. They also remind me of family and friends, the anchors of community that cling to us tenaciously in difficult times. In turn, we are taught to hold tight to those children who come along, be they blood relations or chosen family.
I have a certain friend in mind who has always treated my daughters as her own: watching over them, teaching them, encouraging them and loving them. She helped create a bed of community for several of us whose children started in the same schools, and continued even after that soft landing place evolved. I strive to emulate her example. Reciprocity is uneven; she sets a high bar for which I am so very grateful.