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Michael Carini | Series: The Boy In The Box | Acrylic on Canvas

As every story has a past, present, and future, what may at first glimpse appear to be non-objective abstraction is in fact segmentations of energetic imagery interacting and breathing through the boundlessness of space and time.

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I love Stars

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As every story has a past, present, and future, what may at first glimpse appear to be non-objective abstraction is in fact energetic imagery interacting and breathing through the boundlessness of space and time.

Featured: The Day Pandora Set Me Free (Misteriora). Acrylic on canvas. 60 x 60. This painting references the story of Pandora’s Box and all that was unleashed upon opening it. If you look close enough, you may spot a female form in front of a tree. Thank you Misti Stromatt for modeling for this painting.

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The Start

Growing up, whenever someone would ask me about my life I would laugh, “My life is a fucking soap opera.” While I used to think of this as more of a joke, I started to realize that my life is a fucking soap opera. If you want to know what I mean by this, I have to take you back to the beginning. 

My mom was 19 and working as a waitress in a bar when she met my dad. She had graduated high school a semester early, enrolled at Columbia in Chicago full-time, and was working  working to pay her tuition. According to her, she wanted to be with my dad from the moment she met him. My dad was very different from my mom and had been working as a cement mason from the age of 12, only graduating high school because my grandpa wouldn’t let him work for their company if he dropped out. I’ve been told that it wasn’t his baby blue eyes or money that charmed my mom, rather it was his drive. My mother is guilty of wanting what a lot of women want: a dependable man to take care of the family. So for the next five years they continued to be together, even though they fought horribly. When she was 24, my mom married my dad and less then a year later, they had my brother. 

It’s taken years for my mom to be honest with me about the marriage, but finally she deemed me worthy enough to share her experience. According to my mom, the marriage was doomed from the start. Like me, my mom is very sensitive and also like me, my dad is a (lovable) sarcastic asshole. They fought near constantly, mostly about my dad going out. My dad would go to the bowling alley every Wednesday night for leagues and not come home until Thursday or Friday night. He was struggling with alcoholism at this point and would go on a bender to avoid coming home and fighting. By this time, I had made my entrance into this world and my mom would often be stuck home with a two year old and a newborn for days by herself. She would call my uncle to try to find my dad, but he would cover for dad and give her a bullshit answer. When dad did come home on Wednesday nights, he would crawl into bed completely obliterated and reeking of whiskey. 

By this time, my mom was seriously considering leaving my dad but nobody got divorced in those days and she was worried how it would affect us kids. So, she stayed with him and continued to suppress her own feelings for the sake of the family. However, the most disturbing detail my mom shared with me was about my little sister. On a Wednesday night, my mom was in bed completely distraught about the marriage. Around 3:30 a.m., my dad finally returned home and stumbled into bed with her, and as my mom tells it, “he smelled like whiskey and I didn’t want it, but I was too tired to fight; too tired to say no.”My mom revealed to me that my little sister was a product of spousal rape and that she didn’t want another kid with my dad. 

A couple years later, my brother got sick and was admitted to the hospital for a week. My mom stayed with my brother, sleeping and showering at the hospital, and left me and my sister with her mom. During that time, my dad only visited the hospital once. Coincidently, a friend from high school had a son in the room across the hall from my brother and my mom was able to have some company while she was there. Unfortunately, because she was so worn down emotionally and physically, my mom contracted the Epstein-Barr virus and soon became very sick. Within a few weeks, she found herself couch-locked, throwing up from moving her head or even blinking. The virus got so bad that she went into a coma for several days and had to be airlifted to the University of Chicago Hospital. While she was there, my dad only visited twice. During that time is when she became close to my lifelong orthopedic pediatrician and future stepdad. 

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New Beginnings

I’ve been told time and time again that I should have a blog on my life and so here I am. I have a Tumblr dedicated to the imagery I think represents my life, but this blog is dedicated to words. It is stories that connect us to one another and creates the sense that we are not alone in our experiences.

 Often times, I felt that I was completely alone in what I was experiencing because everyone else seemed to have perfect lives on their social media accounts. I thought that all the bullshit and heartbreak that life had was being thrown my way, sparing everyone else. It hadn’t been until recently that I realized everyone has horrible experiences but few choose to share their grief.

 Personally, I don’t think it’s wrong to share my shitty experiences along with the great ones. In my sharing, I have found connection; I have healed. So, if you’re interested in hearing about my journey through life, welcome. I am so glad for you to be here with me and I hope that you can find that connection through my experiences. 

Much Love, 

Saturn