I have left them faceless because the anonymity of isolation and the pretense that we are coping. In TEACUPS IN A STORM you see some crowded teacups, some solo, to represent the various numbers that make up a family unit.
![holy fucking shit storm in a teacup holy fucking shit storm in a teacup](https://img.ifunny.co/images/31d57bdeb003777fdb5e351a6f3f95903b5852229ad45b2adec653b28729a306_1.jpg)
I see other captians in their teacups doing the same all we can do is nod, smile and keep bailing. If i forget the directions, or fail to meet the mark, I have to bail out the teacup. It is true, for me, that much art and creative writing is born from sorrow, fear, oppression and the darker emotions, why is it that in happiness we forget to write in our diary, or make art or stories.Īs a mother, in my teacup, I find that I am the captian. By bringing the storm outside of the teacup we see that all the different families are weathering the same storm, would this storm be easier to weather in a larger vessel containing everyone? or have we rejected the idea of community (in the tribal sense) in favour of small family groups living separately? I found myself thinking if families were in teacups in a storm on the sea, then the teacup would seem small and insignificant, but so fragile. An expansion of the idea of A STORM IN A TEACUP, which is a idiom meaning someone is exaggerating a problem, or making a small thing out to be much bigger than reality.
![holy fucking shit storm in a teacup holy fucking shit storm in a teacup](https://64.media.tumblr.com/372aedc36f514dfb06be74bfa1d5c38e/tumblr_nbst53Nk4l1t5je38o1_500.jpg)
The picture is the result of a meditation on motherhood, why we weather the storm of life in isolated pockets, not quite able to help others, to busy bailing out our own teacup. This picture above these words is called TEACUPS IN A STORM.