bukowski girl

by Rachel Lynch

I took it upon myself to read all of Bukowski’s poetry during quarantine. I usually read in the bathtub drinking wine, so all of my books from that time have a nice ripple effect to them. Sort of special that way. They remind me of of a dreamier time, a younger me, a married me. I was so hungry and curious for knowledge during quarantine, so desperate to fill each day with forward motion. I look back fondly on that time, and my crinkled bathtub books. 🛁📚

waiting for spring

by Rachel Lynch

Ready to romanticize my life in spring. Big dresses, film photographs, all-day picnics with my girls in Central Park. Eyelashes curled up just right, poetry books, floral socks as i slip my shoes off in the warm grass. Fiona Apple and vintage picnic baskets that double as a purse on the subway. I think I like this girly life 🌸🌸🌸

notes on a work in progress…

by Rachel Lynch

Spending time learning that beautifully painful lesson - that creating art is not just feelings of passion and inspiration over and over again, but actual work. (Much like real love.)

That to really be successful requires doing the work day in and day out, even when you don’t feel like it. The artist is so romanticized in culture, that even the artist herself forgets the endurance that is the required. The mental fortitude, the willpower to push on, even thought everyone and everything in your life is telling you no. The magic happens when we defy the odds and defeat our doubtful self.

This piece is a work in progress for my gallery show in June. I always think preparing for a show is going to be this beautiful romantic bed of roses. It’s actually an arduous labor of love, long days and nights overcoming that doubtful voice in my head.

Cheers to many more victories and creations

x 🕊️💗👑

Heaven knows no glow like a woman in love,

by Rachel Lynch

Heaven knows no glow like a woman in love,

its light could puncture the clouds.

A woman gifted the safety of a landing,

a gentle spirit and a warm heart —

it is in this distinct combination that she blossoms.

His ways are nutrients for her spirit,

unfolding and becoming in luminous glow.

But he did not happen upon an empty castle,

She’s made her heard and heart a safe home.

Filled with endless books, and a thousand songs.

Walls built up by countless workouts, strenuous

and persistent effort shape its tonal quality.

The foundation could last a thousand years,

built on hours of mediation and prayer.

And just outside, you’ll see her spirit guides

spinning in the garden, they were here long before you,

and they’ll be here long after you’re gone.

See, this house is fully renovated.

And without you here, it is certainly fine

standing on its own.

i've always been a night painter...

by Rachel Lynch

I’ve always been a night painter. I have dreams of waking with the sun and picking up my brush, but it’s never been my style. I enjoy the quiet of night, everyone is sleeping and you’re creating. Trying to embrace this part of me instead of fighting it. Are you a morning or night artist? Or somewhere in the middle? Tell me 🎀💕🎨👩🏼‍🎨

first film photos in my new loft & a poem by me <3

by Rachel Lynch

the profound abyss of time spent and love made.

to experience everything you didn’t want, just to know what you do.

to find a love where your heart is safe to bloom,

the most feminine of joys.

love and all its illustrious depths.

i did not know i could feel this safe, this held.

tenderness washes over me, i leave culture and fall into poetry.

my world is alive with magic, fairies and mythology— this storybook feeling i begin to grasp.

to know that something like this is possible becomes my life’s work.

love pours in when we least expect it,

and this one,

this one,

i am ready to nurture.

💌