In Memoriam: A View for Laurie

Ninth grade rivaled as one of the darkest times of my adolescence. Perhaps as a consolation, that year the universe gifted me with two of the most influential teachers I ever had. Each shone brightly, cutting through the darkness and pain, leaving an indelible mark, which I would not fully realize, or appreciate, until adulthood. I wrote about one of those teachers in a previous post; the other person was my art teacher, Laurie Teague, whose artistic aesthetic and musical taste set my struggling spirit free.   

At the ripe age of 15 while perpetually feeling like I was from another era, I was steeped in the music of the late 1960s and early '70s. I recall discussing the music of Jefferson Airplane and Janis Joplin on many occasions with Laurie in the moments before class began. When I had difficulty with a composition for a class assignment, she often came over to offer guidance or words of encouragement. She was a gem. Unfortunately, the end of that school year in 1992 was the end of our time. Due to changes in the school district the following year, she would not teach at that high school again before I graduated. To think where I might have gone artistically had she been guiding me for the next three years...

 

Following the death of my other teacher from that year, I found Laurie on facebook in 2015, and we picked up where we left off. She would regularly react to my new artwork as it was posted online, which echoed the encouragement she used to give me all those years ago.

 

Contemporaneously, I asked her about the colors and natural elements that resonated with her most, to which she dutifully replied. She ended her message with, "What are you up to, anyway?" With the kind permission of Canadian artist Barbara McMahon to use her photograph, "Remote", and the answers provided by Laurie, I got to work creating a collage to convey my gratitude for Laurie. By November of 2016, I completed:

 

"A View for Laurie"

This collage was a labor of love. I used India ink to create the free-form lines on the window panes and then an Xacto knife to cut away different sections of the photograph, into which I inserted images from magazines and original artwork and photographs of my own to create a composition filled with things I knew Laurie loved. Having the opportunity to create and send it to her was... something I can't quite put into words. Her appreciation of it meant everything to me.

 

Laurie and I would go on to exchange many messages and holiday cards over the years. In the spring of 2020 she posted a photo of some of her recent artwork, and I messaged her to tell her that I was buying one of them. After creating a piece for her and then getting to purchase one of hers, all that remained was to make a trip down south to see her again. I could not get down there fast enough, as she passed away in November 2021. Upon learning of her death, I posted the following on facebook to her daughters, "you don't need me to tell you how wonderful of a person your mother was, as you know that more than anyone. My heart dropped when I learned of her passing just this evening. She was my art teacher at Carver School in 1991-92, and the impact she had on me was profound. It would take me years to realize that. Fortunately, I reconnected with her through facebook in 2015 and was able to convey my gratitude for the intangible gifts she gave me. I am grateful for the 5 or so years of holiday cards we were able to exchange, and for the opportunity to purchase one of her original paintings a few years ago. It hangs in my home office. I will treasure it, and her spirit, always. I only wish I was able to travel to see her once again. Words can't convey how sorry I am for your loss. May she reverberate through both of you in all that you do." 

 

She continues to reverberate in the artwork I create. Thank you, dear Laurie.   

Featured in this post: A View for Laurie
All current artwork can be found in my profile at Fine Art America. Thank you for your time and your support.

Colors of the Heart: Meditating on Emotions

As mentioned in a previous post, I have had a predilection for hearts since early childhood. When I visited beloveds in the summer of 2016 and learned that they would regularly ask each other, "how does your heart feel?", naturally, the ritual resonated with me. When I returned home from my visit, I introduced the ritual to the new relationship that I was in. The question morphed into "What’s the color of your heart?" which still explored the feelings in the heart, but with emphasis on the colors. I knew I wanted to bring this ritual to my artwork, and in typical form for me, something deeper was drawing me to this.

On September 1, 2016, I used markers to create a heart to reflect how I was feeling that day. The next day, I used paint to create another heart. On the third day, alcohol ink was the medium used to create another heart. I enjoy working with collections in art, creating menageries, so after posting the first three on social media and seeing the response to them, I knew there was something here to explore further, so I decided to make this a daily ritual for the whole month. Each day, I would tune into the feelings in my heart, the colors would emerge, the medium would come to me, and a little heart was created, posted online, and added to the growing pile of finished hearts. It wasn’t until the following February that I brought together all 30 hearts into a single piece of artwork. In September 2017, I embarked on the same month-long ritual and tied those 30 hearts together into a single piece of artwork in February 2018. These 2 separate rituals yielded:

 

"Colors of the Heart 2"

"Colors of the Heart"

Some of these hearts reflect general feelings of the day, while others reflect very specific beings or events. In the time since then, I can’t see hearts in artwork without thinking about these 2 pieces. They are ever-present in my mind’s eye. Both chapters of the experience were transformative. Little did I know then that this was the beginning of an awakening, as contemplating patterns and colors of the heart would help me overcome the lifelong obstacle of expressing my emotions to others.

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All current artwork can be found in my profile at Fine Art America. Thank you for your time and your support.

Empaths, Mass Violence, and Circles of Humanity

Everyday one-on-one interactions can be difficult, or even draining, for empaths while those same interactions can barely register on the radar of others. Mass violence events, such as 9/11, school shootings, and other horrendous tragedies, elicit emotional responses from people on a massive scale, but they are seismic for empaths. As the news breaks about tragic events, there is an over-saturation of information and not a lot of answers. At those times, it's like slipping into a trance as I step outside of myself to absorb massive amounts of energy being released by others and channel them into something different, something positive. It's how I, and many emphaths, survive such events. The Pulse nightclub shooting on June 12, 2016, was one such experience.

The victims of this mass violence event weren't on the front lines of a war, they weren't charging into a burning building to save lives, they were... at a night club. And now they were dead. The senseless death of so many people so quickly was incomprehensible. I purchased alcohol ink and yupo for the first time shortly before this tragedy, and before I knew it, I was sitting on the living room floor working with dozens of pieces of yupo, all colors of ink, and masking fluid. The masking fluid was used to create circles. The collage artist in me took over and began cutting the pieces of yupo. In the days following the tragedy, the ritual was the same: meditate, cut, arrange, until finally emerged:

"Circles of Humanity"

Throughout the creation of this piece, I couldn't shake the feeling of how connected we all truly are. When tragedies like these strike some, they strike us all. In life, how we respond to our circumstances forms the narrative of our story. Through our story, with its twists and turns, its sadness and celebrations, we connect with people. Over time, some of these connections strengthen, some of them fade, some of them damage us, and some of them light the way. We are colored by these experiences. Through these colors, stories, and connections, we weave this tapestry of humanity. In the end, we are all connected; we are all humans, feeling love and pain. What we do today matters, so always choose love.

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All current artwork can be found in my profile at Fine Art America. Thank you for your time and your support.

Stories of Healing: From Violence to the 1st Art Show

Six months ago, I was asked to submit my work for an art show. Having never had one before, I had no idea what to expect. When the show debuted earlier this month, I never dreamt it would be the success that it was. As I walked home that night, under the almost-full moon, another epiphany moved through my spirit, as they often do in the presence of the moon. The origins of this art show became clear to me, and once again, I was lead back to an act of violence.

Over five years ago, I was the recipient of workplace violence. ('Recipient' may sound odd, but I don't view myself as being a victim.) I addressed this experience in this post, talking about how it was a gift in that it lead me down a different path, pushing me straight into my career as an artist. What I did not mention in that post is that after creating the piece mentioned in that post, "Leaving the Darkness Behind", I sought out a professional to scan it for me. Enter Buffalo Big Print, who scanned that piece and who has scanned all of my artwork since 2014. They are the ones who approached me last year about holding an art show in their gallery, and because of those wonderful people, this was possible:

As the pieces for this show were selected and the threads of the show were coming together, the show's title revealed itself to me. After all, these pieces were all "Stories of Healing". 

Back in 2014, in the days and weeks following the violent incident, I thought the universe had already bestowed its gifts upon me, that the doors of opportunity that were going to open had already opened. Yet, as I walked home on the night of the 7th of February 2020, I realized that the biggest gift to come out of this was given to me that night: my first art show. The second-biggest gift to come out of this was given to me that night, too: the kind hearts of friends and strangers coming out to make it a successful show. There was so much laughter and love in the space that night. That wonderful experience was worth the moments of violence 5 years ago. I hold deep gratitude for the violence. Its sharpness and abruptness were necessary to alter my trajectory. The doors continue to open, all these years later.


All current artwork can be found in my profile at Fine Art America. Thank you for your time and your support.

Breaking Constraints: A Patchwork of Contrasts

Discovering the possibilities is part of the magic of creating artwork. Letting go enough to be open to the possibilities is not something that always came so easily for me. With all of the constraints placed on me during adolescence, I often had difficulty expressing myself creatively. So much of myself was hidden away that I didn't know how to let go. This continued into early adulthood, but it began to break apart as I found my way back to art. In my previous piece, which I would call an "instinctive" piece, I broke through another constraint by experimenting with the possibilities of combining paint and collage. This next piece, which was very much an "intentional" piece, would find me delving further into that realm of possibilities. 

At the time this was created, I was nearing the end of a relationship. I was focused on the consequence of choices and actions while simultaneously meditating on the polar opposites (or contrasts) in all people and how those opposites guide us through those choices and actions. Where those vary from one person to the next is in how we respond to those opposites in our lives-- the positive and negative, the dark and light, the smooth and rough. Therein lies the uniqueness of our own experiences, through which is woven:

"A Patchwork of Contrasts"

Like its predecessor, "A Patchwork of Contrasts" was made by layering acrylic and watercolor paint. Applying thick layers of acrylic paint allowed for creating movement. Dicing up the finished painting and rearranging the pieces into a patchwork gave way to even more movement within the piece. The title revealed itself as the last piece of the puzzle fell into place.

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All current artwork can be found in my profile at Fine Art America. Thank you for your time and your support.

Alternate Outcomes and the Marriage of Painting and Collage

It can begin by simply brushing texture onto a page. That's what I remember about the origins of this piece, anyway. I started out by brushing thick layers of white acrylic paint onto paper, with the bristles of the brush creating ridges in the white expanse. Three colors-- orange, purple, and deep pink-- told me it was their time, so I found them among the dozens of tubes of acrylic paint colors, mixed them with small amounts of water, and squeezed them onto the still wet white paint. I left the paper lying flat and then walked away. 

During the night, the watery paint followed the path of least resistance across the page, leaving behind paths and pools of intriguing shapes, lines, and patterns. Although I enjoyed the combination of colors and the juxtaposition of textures I found the next morning, I knew it wasn't finished. The idea of tiles of color depicting similar images danced in my head, along with the fact that different sections of the piece had different stories to tell. So instead of adding water or more paint to alter the look, I picked up the paper, walked over to the paper cutter, and began to cut. Three cuts later, and the imagined tiles were sitting before me. 

To create the background, I started with a layer of white acrylic paint, and while still wet, overlaid with a wash of soft orange watercolor, using broad strokes to emphasize the movement. As I began to arrange the colored tiles, the theme of alternate outcomes was forming in my mind. I thought about how the choices we make and the actions we take inform the outcome of a given situation. With that idea, I knew that the tiles needed to physically connect in some way, and the piece took shape as:

"Alternate Outcomes"

This piece marked my first, albeit basic, marriage of painting and collage, which is an avenue that I would go on to explore in subsequent work. It marked a turning point in my relationship with my work because I realized that sometimes putting paint onto a page tells only part of the story. The pre-2007 artist in me never would have entertained that notion. After all, in artwork, just like in life, there can be alternate outcomes.

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All current artwork can be found in my profile at Fine Art America. Thank you for your time and your support.
 

Deciphering Dreams: Altering the Color of my Mind

One of my first online handles was pisceandream. Without knowing it at that time, I was telling the world how much water and dreams factor into my life.  Often they work in tandem, as flowing water and patterns in blue figure prominently in my dreams. In February 2016, the deep waters of my spirit were stirring once more, which drew me into the studio again.

The near-death experience of my best friend just 3 months before transformed many aspects of my life. Undulating amidst those changes was the end of a relationship. My dreams during that time were enigmatic, causing me to dwell on them during the waking hours. All I could see and feel were the changing shapes and shades of blue from my dreams. They clung to me with such intensity that had I not been pacified by them, I would have thought they were haunting me. 

My time in the studio creating this was fairly brief. With the underlying theme of water, naturally I turned to watercolor paint this time around. With the segments of blue in place, I applied artists' tape to conceal individual sections before painting over everything with metallic acrylic paint. Even with the finished piece, I still did not know what to make of or call it, so I spent more time deciphering its message than I did creating it. It wasn't until I came across this quote by Emily Brontë that I began to understand, "I have dreamt in my life, dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas; they have gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the color of my mind." The truths that I knew through my dreams, presented in changing patterns of blue, were ushering in a new version of consciousness for this water sign. They were, in fact, forever...

"Altering the Color of my Mind"

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All current artwork can be found in my profile at Fine Art America. Thank you for your time and your support.