Bereavement Birds

The following is a guest post by Lauren McGovern. Lauren McGovern lives in the Adirondacks of northern New York State, where she sees a lot of birds. Her work has appeared in What’s Your Grief, Midstory Magazine, The Razor, Oh Reader, Gordon Square Review, MUTHA Magazine, and elsewhere. Visit laurenmcgovern.online for more about her and her work.

Bereavement Birds: about the artwork

I am grateful to public libraries and the TV series Portlandia. Putting birds on things (or things on birds) has not slowed since comedians Fred Armisen and Carrie Brownstein “Put a Bird on It” in a 2011 episode of their trend-bending show. 

One of the vibrant libraries in my rural community offered a free watercolor class for beginners. When I spent the entire session experimenting with color and texture instead of completing the “assignment”, the instructor pulled a copy of Painting Happiness off the shelf. Author Terry Runyan guided me through loose and joyful flowers, cats, and my favorite: turning blobs into birds. The metaphor of transforming an unidentifiable mess into something recognizable (put a beak on it!) with personality was not lost on me. 

The healing power of art is well documented. It’s not a cure or a substitute for much-needed medical or therapeutic care, but it serves as a tool for folding grief and loss into our lives. I’ve turned to art again and again in the wake of losing my younger son to suicide, whether writing essays, assembling collages, or designing with metal clay.

Blob birds gave me a new perspective. The static and bland clothing sketches I’d drawn for this grief project months ago were elevated to playful, engaging, and thoughtful once I flipped (flapped?) the script. I focused on bird-making and their outfits while recovering after foot surgery. From my makeshift studio, I could see neighbors walking, biking, and even roller-skiing by my home. I’d paint, clothe, and photograph the birds, immersing myself in the process to combat the frustration and sadness about the loss of mobility, summer’s outdoor recreation opportunities shrunk to crutching out to a small porch to watch a flock of turkeys. I had to reframe my expectations, focus on healing, and take care of my body so I can be physically active again.

Since loss is universal, but grief is personal, choice emerged in this piece. And then, feathers. May these birds give hope for flying away or enjoying the comfort of a nest. The bereaved get to decide what fits.

Check out Lauren's other What's Your Grief articles here and visit her website.