![](https://melaniemowinski.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/06/WaxingMyThirdEye.jpg)
![IMG_2593](https://melaniemowinski.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/06/IMG_2593-scaled.jpg#5890)
![IMG_2593](https://melaniemowinski.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/06/IMG_2593-scaled.jpg#5890)
Waxing My Third Eye, 2016-2017
Binders Board, Lenox Paper, monotype, painted papers, gold paint, ink, gesso, red and black linen thread, monofilament, handset metal type letterpress, wooden knobs
Object footprint: 7x7 inches
Overall size: 7x14x7 inches
Inside drawer 11 monotype + stitched+ letterpress compositions
Waxing My Third Eye: An Appetite for Egress was one of the first artworks I created after having a mastectomy on June 1, 2015. This piece addresses processing cutting off my breast. I had a very hard time accepting the fact that I had to have this surgery.
Terror wrapped itself around and through me. I often pass out when poked with a needle and the sight of blood makes me sick. I couldn't imagine what this surgery would do to me. While I know art can heal, I could not go to my studio. I finally had to begin to make something because I had an exhibit to mount. These pieces were the beginning of me exiting that time.
The mono-prints that are stitched with various seams and paths and letterpress printed are housed in a drawer in a shrine like sculpture, hidden, like the cells that are suspended behind the glorious door. We often don't know what lies within our bodies, until we are opened for some reason.
These pieces helped me begin to find myself again, allowed me to feel empathy for myself, and understand my vulnerability. I used meditation to help me cope with the stress of the surgery and the aftermath. The title evolved from a conversation around how much I enjoy getting the space between my eyes (where the third eye is located) waxed. I love how it feels and this became a metaphor for the whole year of the breast, a time where removal of something can actually eventually feel good and spark a new beginning. The second part of the title emerged as I realized I needed to leave this time behind. The work itself becomes a container of memory. A place I can visit, but I can also close behind a door or in a drawer, when needed.