Ever since I got pregnant, I’ve been on a mission to record the fleeting growth and change of becoming a mother, as a retroactive message to my art-school self that says, “You don’t disappear!”

https://www.newyorker.com/culture/culture-desk/being-an-artist-and-a-mother

I can’t say it’s being a prolific week for me anyway. But this hit me like a sucker punch—any of it, all of it—made me breathe funny, made me cry.

Now I can only think of Ms. Weinstein’s images, and words, and Ms. Modersohn-Becker’s (as translated).

I want you to think about them, too. Maybe even all day. Maybe longer.