In my new series, "Wise Women," I am focusing on portraiture of women who practice love through their art. In this case, it is that art of fierce love that a mother has for her child. In drawing this large charcoal, I used heavy BFK Rives paper which allowed the darkness of the charcoal strokes to reinforce the darkness that mothers and children live under where ever there is war.
On a personal note, "Ukraine Pieta" actually sparked an unexpected comment from a fellow grad student during a final critique, "Do you consider yourself a protest artist?" Taken aback, I said no.
But upon reflection, I guess I am definitely a protest artist when it comes to protecting women and their rights, their children and their lives.
He asked me, "Do you consider yourself a protest artist?" "If being passionate about women's rights, their children's health and safety, and the ending of wars caused by men, then my answer is yes. I think all wise women would agree with me."
The sketch
A young woman crouches in a corner on a war-torn street in Mariupol, holding her young son tightly in her arms. Their clothes are tattered and torn in the cold.
I'm tried to visually capture the protective way the mother feels by keeping her face partially buried in her son's soft hair.
The background
Trying to create an abstraction of broken buildings and rocks littering the streets, I worked the charcoal by erasure and lifting and redrawing. I realized I needed to add a path in the midground, so there could be a way for them to escape.
The hope
I decided to lighten the area above the mother's head to take some of the heaviness away and erased a bit of the midground. I added a path-like shape toward a distant, but still standing cathedral. I'd like to think it represents the hope in the child's eyes that there will be peace again one day in Ukraine.