Irinna Stefanidou

16/12/2021

29/08/2021

July was a month of pain, exhaustion, happiness and birthing life. My little girl wanted to stay in the home I created for her and I wanted her near me, next to me, in my hug and finally get to look at her in the eyes. The days kept going by, and I was heavy, slow, tired and anxious about how everything will turn out. Every day could be labor day. Every single sensation around my belly would make me jump, not scared and excited. Finally, on the 21st of July, it got real. The pain was unbearable and all my birth plans went out of the window, and in through the hospital door. She was arriving. After 24 hours, several drugs and screams she was in my arms. It was real.
The last painting, “Bedtime stories” is the most special one. A birth of colours, pain and female power.
That’s how it ends and that’s how it begins.

25/08/2021

June was the month when I said “ok I am ready, take this baby out of me”
Everything was uncomfortable, I needed help for every single task: Getting up from a chair, putting on shoes, going up and down the stairs. The idea of going into labor at any moment was keeping me awake, half scared and half excited.
I was on my 37th week and the only thing I could do was simply wait patiently and eat anything that was inside my fridge.
Representing my discomfort through materials such as needles, heat, leather and found yarns, the piece of this month“Untitled 1” is a punch in the stomach. A unrealistic realism.

16/08/2021

May, the month that I turned 29, surrounded by family, cats, smokes,birthday cakes, sun and drinks that I couldn't have.

I had carried my belly over to Greece, and the purpose of getting my body some rest, I was striked by insomnia, panic, and restlessness.

I spend all my nights wandering around the house, looking at the empty street from my balcony and wondering why is everything so hard.

Fourth day without sleep, and my eyes would see shapes and distortions that were far from reality.

The impact of sleep deprivation had left scars on my mind and body.

This month's painting is how insomnia would look like with colours. Chaotic shapes, just like my thoughts, and the intensity that comes along.

It's name: -A woman dreaming- only this time, dreaming is with eyes wide open...

12/08/2021

Here comes the big moment:

I passed by my mirror and had a real good look at my figure. I finally loved what I saw. I had now become a proud woman that is able to make magic in her belly and show it to the world.

A female breeze passed me by and got me feeling like a Greek goddess.
Yes, I said it.

Maybe by this time none of my pants would go higher than the thighs, maybe even big dresses were uncomfortable and don't get me started on underwear.

Acceptance, acceptance, acceptance...

April's painting is a celebration of curves, breasts, of feeling whole.

Connected with my Greek heritage,
my blue lady is dipped in the sea,
and bathed by the sun.

10/08/2021

March was a mixed bag of sleepless nights, panic, endless to-do lists, boredom, binges, crying, the pregnancy works!

Every day was a crap shoot, with no telling if I would be in the clouds or in the pits. But one thing was certain, my belly was becoming very round and very visible.

Also certain, I was still very far from having my baby in my arms.

The thought of going on for 5 more months felt overwhelming, and kept me up at nights.

In general, as the months went on I made less art. Mostly because of lack of materials, since all of our resources and energy was going towards the baby.

I started reworking older paintings, and seeing things with new eyes, the eyes of a mother that seeks inspiration in familiar images.

This painting, called Tezeta, means Nostalgia, and comes from one of the songs that was stuck in my head.

Although it was created one year ago, I used oil crayons to rework it, realising that a painting is never finished until you say so.

07/08/2021

I was by now on my fifth month, and all the baby bliss was completely replaced by baby blues. Along with a new package of hormones.

Crying for no reason, getting emotional with every little thing and what else could fit better than songs that were sad enough to fit my mood.

The music carpet was mostly old greek songs, with guitars that I could become one with.

I came to notice that those songs had one thing in common: The e-minor note.

The painting of this month took it's name from there:
"She only plays in e-minor. "
This piece is showing a gender fluid face, with a body replaced by a guitar. The curves are clearly visible, matching with my own curves that hadn't been more visible till that moment.

Looking up close, you will see the lyrics: " What if the world would stop spinning for a minute, and I could clearly hear the the jazz of the city, the melodies of the streets..."

05/08/2021

January, post holidays, post congratulations from family and close friends, post sunshine, butterflies and giddiness, post whatever pregnancy honeymoon there was to be had...

The first visible signs of pregnancy had started to take ahold of my body. A body that was becoming round, swollen, foreign to myself.

It took many gulps of courage and genuine curiosity to face a mirror, much more the reality that my body was changing, and I did not have a say in how, or how much.

Both proud of how my skin can stretch and flex, and mourning for the body I was leaving behind.

Painting that month, my arms subconsciously moved in rounded patterns, creating curves that turned my canvas into a mirror itself. And a reflection that I could dictate.

The colours contrasted as much as the polarity of emotions that I felt from moment to moment.

Accepting, rejecting.

Embracing, denying.

04/08/2021

December was a time of rediscovery, or better yet, rebirth. I found myself reliving familiar experiences, places and people as if for the first time, through a mother's eyes.

Visiting Greece, while carrying life,
would let me experience the smells, colours and tastes that were always there, but my sensitivity for the world around me had deepend.

I guess it took motherhood to truly let me understand the beauty of life itself, happening all around me, inside of me, in every direction.

This painting, came from flowers, doors, old cars and all the colours that flew infront of my eyes, walking on a small town somewhere in Greece.

03/08/2021

Month 2: November

I am officially pregnant. He knows, and I know. Thoughts run like rivers, emotions take over and brains are fighting back. You never know if you are ready, but those instant butterflies know better.

"I am becoming a mother!”

That October was 30 days of decision making that caused a lot of stress.

The way out was kisses and hugs with Kervins, that produce Oxytocin, the same chemical produced while giving birth. It was only 8 months later that I would find that out, but again, those butterflies knew more.

The name of that painting is a reminiscence of that October, named "Oxytocin"