Coloring Hearts: Coming Full Circle

It is said that what we are drawn to in our childhood is what we are meant to do in that life. My earliest memories involve color and creativity. My first foray into art was at the tender age of 3 when I redecorated my cousin's room with spray paint. Nothing in my cousin's room was spared-- even my cousin's dog Benji was part of the "Installation in Army Green". Spray painting his dog proved to be a misstep for me because when Benji returned to the kitchen with army green lowlights, it tipped off my father and uncle, who were fully engrossed in their cribbage game, that something was transpiring elsewhere in the house. As a result, work on my first objet d'art came to an abrupt end. After that fateful day, in order to keep tabs on me my father would draw hearts of various sizes on paper for me to color at the table. It was a win-win for everyone because my father and uncle could play their cribbage game and I could explore and experiment with colors. It's also one of the few fond memories I have with my father. Despite my predilections to art and taking art classes throughout elementary, middle, and high school, I was never convinced that I had any talent and often struggled to complete projects. Along the way, I strayed away from art.

As I've explored in previous posts, my return to creating art was slow. After all, the time span of the previous posts was almost 7 years. That's how long it took me to understand that an artist was inside of me screaming to be heard. It took a traumatic event to really push me in this direction and the turning point came 6 months later in April of this year when I set out to dye Easter Eggs with natural ingredients. After the mild success I had dyeing eggs the previous year, this year I prepared for the event and put forth the effort to yield greater results. I began the process on Friday night and by Sunday morning I felt like a kid on Christmas morning. As soon as I woke up, I bolted to the kitchen to begin unwrapping the eggs. I dyed 16 eggs thinking that if I were lucky I would end up with 8 good eggs. Much to my surprise, not only did all 16 eggs turn out well, they were beautiful. After drying them, placing them in a tray, and stepping back to look at what I had created, I did something I didn't expect to do: I cried. I wasn't crying tears of joy over the outcome, instead I was crying over the fact that it took me until age 38 to believe that I could achieve such an outcome; I was crying for the child and teenager who never believed in himself; I was crying for disregarding the positive comments I had ever received about my talent and for absorbing all of the negative comments and believing them to be true. Through those gentle tears, I released that grief and simultaneously I began to believe in my talent.

Collaborative work with my nephew

A few days later, my 
4-year-old nephew was at my house for the afternoon. At one point, we brought out the paper and the crayons and without thinking about it, I started drawing hearts for him to color. I explained primary colors and secondary colors to him and we talked about our favorite colors. One by one, he picked out the colors for each heart. It wasn't until we were almost finished that I realized the parallels to my childhood. After we finished, I showed him some of the artwork I was working on and the eggs I had made. When we came back to the paper with the hearts on it, I told him that I colored hearts like that when I was his age. He looked up at me and with a smile he said, "I know because you're so good at it now." I chuckled softly and said, "well thanks, little friend, it has taken me a long time to get here."

The unadulterated mind of a child can reveal the truth if we pay close attention. Their observations are honest and invaluable. Between my nephew's comment and remembering my observations and experiences as a child, I began to decipher the great mystery as I understood that art is my destiny.

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

On the Other Side of Rejection: Lighting Her Own Way

I grew up being a perfectionist, always trying to please a parent who never would be. At the age of 22 when I finally stood up to that parent, I learned who he really was, and that was the last day I spoke to him. Emancipating myself from him was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done. There were times when it nearly destroyed me, when people felt compelled to tell me that they disagreed with me, but I persisted because I believed that no one should endure such shame and disrespect. Through it all, it prepared me for the world.

Earlier this year when my partner and I returned to his hometown in the Midwest for a family celebration, I experienced this all over again. I had met and interacted with my partner’s step-father previously, so my guard was down when we traveled to their home this year. However, from the moment I set foot in his kitchen, I knew that something had changed, that I wasn’t welcome, that we weren’t welcome. What unfolded as a joyous day for most was in fact uncomfortable and acutely painful for me as I watched the host welcome everyone into his home while he either completely ignored me, made fun of me with his friends, or spoke icily to me. My partner didn’t realize that anything was brewing until the next day when he and I were forced to leave his parents’ house. Initially I was more upset by this than my partner was. Having been through this, I knew what lay ahead; it would take my partner some time to begin to understand the gravity of this. 

Just before that devastating trip to the Midwest, I attended a Vision Board Party, which is where I acquired many of the elements used in my next piece. The groundwork was laid during the party/workshop, but it wasn't until returning home to Buffalo that I delved deeply into the piece. After working diligently for several days, in late February 2015 the convergence of different elements and emotions resulted in:

Lighting Her Own Way

This mixed media piece is composed of magazine clippings, acrylic paint, glitter card stock, and marker ink. I had a general idea of the visual aspect of the piece that I wanted, but I couldn't quite create it until a cold and snowy February day when I heard the piano version of "I'm in Here" by Sia. Listening to the song on my headphones while working set the stage for this piece. The song, which perfectly captured the emotional tone of the trip and the days that followed, echoed my inner feelings:

I'm in here. 
Can anybody see me?
Can anybody help?
I'm in here.
A prisoner of history.
Can anybody help?

Can you hear my call?
Are you coming to get me now?
I've been waiting for
You to come rescue me.
I need you to hold
All of the sadness I cannot live with inside of me.

I'm crying out,
I'm breaking down,
I am fearing it all,
Stuck inside these walls,
Tell me there is hope for me.
Is anybody out there listening?

I'm in here.
Can anybody see me?
Can anybody help?

I was lead to create a sunface for this piece because I was working with the idea of light. (I have been drawn to sunface and moonface art since I was a teenager, and as such, it tends to be a motif in my work.) As I reflected on my experience with my father and recalled how it was up to me to find my own way, I recognized that the same would be true for my partner and me in his situation. In fact, it's a universal theme for anyone who's been rejected by a parent: you have to learn to be your own source of happiness, your own light, when your parent has turned away from the joy of you. To me, the sun in this piece embodies that idea. She is lighting her own way. 

Featured in this post: Lighting Her Own Way 
All current artwork can be found in my profile at Fine Art America. Thank you for your time and your support.

Defusing Depression with Fine Art America and Orange Euphoria

To say that Fine Art America saved me is no exaggeration. Perhaps it's art that truly saved me. In October 2014 in the wake of an extremely unpleasant situation, the universe hurled me toward my destiny and Fine Art America was a beacon for me on that journey.

I was introduced to the Fine Art America community in March of that year. Intrigued by the website, I created an account immediately. It slipped off my radar for various reasons within a few weeks, but I found my way back again by late October. After a brief period of exploring the work of other artists, I took the plunge and began uploading my work to my online portfolio to "test the waters". After observing how groups and contests work, on January 1, 2015, I created my flagship group, Orange Euphoria, a photography-only group for images that showcase the color orange. 

My reasons for creating the group and establishing its guidelines were personal. I made it a photography-only group as an homage to the creative medium that saw me through my formative years. As far as devoting a group solely to the color orange, there were a few reasons. Primarily, orange has been my favorite color since early childhood. The other reason is because of its healing qualities with regard to loss and grief. As discussed in a previous post, in late October 2014 I found myself dealing with the aftermath of violence. Refusing to be shattered by this event, I turned to art and the color orange for guidance. Barbara McMahon, an artist in nearby Ontario, Canada, was the first person to join Orange Euphoria, and she uploaded this stunning beauty:

Orange Glow by Barbara McMahon

Barbara's "Orange Glow" is a gorgeous image that perfectly embodies the essence of Orange Euphoria. It was an honor to have this as the inaugural photograph in the Orange Euphoria gallery.

At a time when it would have been easy to slip into depression and suffer from anxiety and devastation, I was immersed in and comforted by the beautiful expressions of orange as the group began to grow. Orange Euphoria has blossomed throughout 2015 and as group curator it has become an intrinsic part of my life. When I'm not capturing images with my camera or creating work in my makeshift art studio, I browse the beautiful work in the group's gallery. I continue to be inspired by the diverse talent of our members. With each visit, I am left smiling at the beautiful world we have created together. It is a testament to the power of art, which helped to light the way for me out of the darkness. 

Featured in this post: Orange Glow by Barbara McMahon 
Experience Orange Euphoria (more work can be seen by clicking on the "Images" tab)
All current artwork can be found in my profile at Fine Art America. Thank you for your time and your support.

The Gift of Violence: Leaving the Darkness Behind

"Sometimes truly horrible things happen in life, they just do, when you least expect it, when it is completely undeserved, but what is important is the way we respond to it. From there, the greatest gifts arise: the love and support of true friends, which ultimately overshadows the initial negative act, but also, in removing ourselves from the situation, we learn just how strong we are."

That was my facebook status from the 25th of October 2014. At that time, only a handful of people knew about the back story to that post. Enough time has passed and I have enough distance from it now to speak more openly about it. Two days prior to that post, I experienced violence at my place of work. I had been the recipient of and witness to my manager's unprofessional and inappropriate emotional and verbal abuse, but the icing on the cake was the day he put his hands over my collar bone and shoved me backward into a wall and paper shredder. As someone who vowed never to remain in an abusive relationship, I saw this as no different. After saying aloud, "this just happened, didn't it?", my immediate response was to pick myself up and to call a member of the Board of Directors. I was out of that office within 5 minutes, never to return. 

Barring a minor bruise on my arm, I emerged from the encounter relatively unscathed, for which I was grateful. However, I had to contend with the emotional ramifications. I did not wallow in the aftermath. I was not shattered by that person's ugly behavior. Succumbing to deep depression was not an option; I had to endure. At that juncture, the path before me was art. Art softened the blow of the preceding events, allowing me the space to process everything through the stages of grief without slipping too far into depression. Within two weeks, I completed my previous collage and immediately dove into my next one. By the 13th of December 2014, I completed:

Leaving the Darkness Behind

Any reservations about my artistic abilities evaporated in the face of this experience. With those out of the way, and with a new chapter of my life before me, I plunged into this piece with new tools and a new medium: acrylic paint. In addition to acrylic paint, this piece incorporates fibrous paper, gouache, ink, and magazine clippings.    

Throughout the creation of this collage, I listened to the musical composition by Philip Wesley titled "Leaving the Darkness Behind". When I thought the collage was complete, the intensity and urgency conveyed through the piano pushed me to take the collage to the next level. In the midst of this, I grew to be thankful for the violence. I had recognized the need to leave that job, so I viewed the act of violence as the universe opening a door for me. Sure, I was scared to abruptly lose two-thirds of my income as well as my health insurance, but my intuition told me to step through that door, ready or not. I could not have lived with myself had I stayed in that toxic work environment. Each day that I worked on this collage, I was comforted by the fact that I was another day farther into leaving the darkness behind.

Featured in this post: Leaving the Darkness Behind 
All current artwork can be found in my profile at Fine Art America. Thank you for your time and your support.
    

How We View the World: A Meditation on Perception

In September 2013 I agreed to create a piece of original artwork for a friend. I started by having a conversation with him about what he likes in art and in the world. With his answers, I began the 14-month-long quest of gathering images and working on the composition. During that time I experienced an incredible loss that resulted in the creation of another collage, and I experienced a traumatic event. (I will expand on that event in my next post.) 

Incorporating my friend's favorite colors, flora, and fauna was simple. The challenge with this piece involved working with my friend's preference for symmetry. I almost always gravitate toward asymmetry. The longest part of my quest was figuring out what the framework, what the vessel, of this piece would be. I went through many phases early on in the project where I had an idea of the framework, searched for examples of it, only to discover that the idea was going nowhere. It wasn't until I was in my usual coffee beanery buying my month's supply of ground coffee and browsing through the latest issue of Artforum that I found my framework: the stained glass windows created by New York City-based artist Christopher Wool for a church in La Charité-sur-Loire, France. I loved the juxtaposition of his contemporary style nestled in centuries-old architecture. I loved the intricacy of his work. I loved that I would be able to have elements of both symmetry and asymmetry. With that piece of the puzzle in place, a deluge of ideas came gushing forth. I worked on this piece intermittently over the next 11 months until its completion on the 4th of November 2014:

How We View the World

"How We View the World" is made up of magazine clippings and original photographs. I lifted the image of the window from Artforum. Using an x-acto knife, I carefully carved out most of the white spaces of the original image. Next, I placed all of the background images onto a piece of craft paper with the window image clamped to it so that I could flip up the window image and look only at the layer of background images and arrange them as needed before gluing them to the craft paper. When the background images were in place, I removed some of the black lines of Christopher Wool's creation because I didn't want the images to be cluttered by so many lines. Then when everything was situated and cut to my liking, I adhered the top window image to the layer with the background images. It was a long process that required patience and a steady hand. 

The title was the last aspect to fall into place. As the piece started to take shape, I started thinking about how each of us views things differently, even when looking at the same thing. Some focus more on what they like, others focus more on what they dislike, but in the end, perception is everything. A large part of that lies in how and what we choose to see. It exists in the same realm as the quote by Charles R. Swindoll, "Life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you react to it." Changing the way we react to life can be achieved by changing the way we view the world around us. "How We View the World" is my interpretation of my friend's vision of the world. Another collage in the same vein for someone else would look drastically different. How would yours look? 

Learn more about Christopher Wool's project
Featured in this post: How We View the World 
All current artwork can be found in my profile at Fine Art America. Thank you for your time and your support.

An Homage in Winter Hues

February of 2014, like the February before it, found me meditating on my 9th grade year. As discussed previously, that was a pivotal year in my life. My interest in art and French were piqued by two unbelievably talented teachers. In retrospect, I understand that in both February 2013 and 2014 my subconscious mind was trying to make me realize that I was straying farther from where I was supposed to be. I had an office job that was taking over every aspect of my life, namely because my manager was losing his grip and had spiraled into a depression that winter, so I became the backbone of that office. Through my meditations on the year I was 15, I realized that who I was trying to be then was who I truly was, and 22 years later in 2014, I desperately needed pick up those lost threads of my soul.

Also during February 2014, I learned that Barbara Bibighaus passed away. She was my French teacher that monumental and influential year. She was the one who set me on my path to ultimately become a translator, so her passing wasn't taken lightly. While sad about her death, I also felt a sense of peace. I realized that her light would continue to shine through me. With that, the urge to create art came rushing forth. A collage that I was working on for a friend was placed on the back burner as I began channeling the spirit of Barbara. Often she would come to me at night. I would greet her each time by thanking her for her gift of French. From that channeling, images began to emerge. I remembered helping her clear out her classroom near the end of that school year (she was leaving the school district). She was wearing a bold blue ensemble that day. That was my last memory of her. With my newly-implemented system of organizing images, it was a breeze to locate specific image and play around with them as the piece began to take shape. The blue of her outfit and her jewelry, combined with the fact that I was channeling her at night, are featured prominently in this piece. I worked on this piece for over a month until it was finished on the 16th of March 2014:

Winter Hues

"Winter Hues" is the first piece that was not created to be given away as a greeting card. It's also the first piece that I did not try to complete within a handful of days. Instead, I allowed ample time for it to be created organically. It is composed entirely of magazine clippings, except for the rubber stamp which I used for the image of the moon. The "water" along the bottom of the piece was originally hair on a character in a magazine. The final element to fall into place was the mountains, which I lifted from an original piece of artwork called "Microcosmos" by Hannah Stouffer. Once I found it and placed it into the composition, I knew I had completed my homage to Barbara. 

The album Glaciation by Patrick O'Hearn, particularly the tracks "Oblique Formations", "Our Temperable Host", and "A Safe Return", influenced the creation of this piece. The blues of Barbara from my memory, the blues painted musically by the album, the winter blues that my boss was experiencing all lead to the title of "Winter Hues". 

Shortly after finishing this piece, I managed to find Laurie Teague, my art teacher from that same year, online. We hadn't communicated since 1992, but time had not eroded anything. She promptly accepted my friend request and then "liked" this piece in my collage album on facebook. A barrier was shattered. Something was complete. Something else was set into motion. I was getting closer to discovering who I am and what it is I am supposed to do in this life. 

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

Organization as a Ritual and Rite of Passage

After creating “Solace” in early 2013, I began zeroing in on my identity as an artist with greater speed and intention. In September of that year, I agreed to make a piece of art for a friend who had done some plumbing work in my home and wanted artwork in exchange. Upon making the proposition, I almost told him ‘no’ out of fear (yet again) that I wouldn’t be able to come up with something worthwhile, but then I quickly agreed to it. After all, I had been making artwork that doubled as greeting cards that people seemed to enjoy, so what was to stop me from embarking on this? I knew that if I didn’t jump off of a cliff, artistically, then I would never know how far I could make it. So, I met with him one evening for an “interview” to ask him questions about his likes and dislikes in terms of colors, patterns, and composition, and from there I began my several-month-long journey to come up with a composition and to find elements to make up said composition.

During the few years leading up to this point, I had amassed quite a collection of catalogues with images that I held onto for use in artwork. As I set out on my quest to gather images for this specific piece, I said to myself that if I wanted to take all of this seriously, I would need to organize my material so as to have it on hand at a moment’s notice. With my partner out of town for the weekend, I dragged out every last magazine I had stashed away and started tearing and cutting. For hours, with my cats watching inquisitively from the couch nearby as they drifted in and out of sleep, I cut and cut and cut out images, sorting them by subject or color. The recycle bin was full that next week, but in the end, I had created some space in the house, along with one hell of an organized system of images in place.

I decided to make a blog post about this because it’s important for all artists to have a system that works for them. For me, personally, I have learned that I can’t keep images and other art supplies hidden away because if they’re out of sight, then they’re out of mind, and I create artwork less often as a result (as can be evidenced by the sparse artistic output prior to this period). By spending the time—and it took lots of time—to organize my arsenal of images, I did myself a favor that would facilitate future art projects. In fact, the next piece that I completed, which was done contemporaneously to the “commissioned” piece, was heavily influenced by my new organized system, and it came about just a few short months after putting this wonderful system into practice. Another benefit of having such a system in place is because sometimes, when I feel the need for creative stimulation, I will grab a folder of images—whether it’s the “floral” or “blue” folder—and see where the experience of browsing leaves me. 

The other reason I made a blog post about this is because it's important to make space in our lives for creating art. Those hours spent in silence, selecting and cutting out images, was a ritual and a rite of passage into becoming an artist. As an artist, not only is it important to honor our work and our craft, but to honor our process as well.     

 

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

Solace: Reconnecting with the Inner Child

Despite creating several collages and receiving positive feedback on them, I was still reluctant to consider myself as an artist, and thus did not carve out adequate time in my life to create. As such, exactly a year passed between my previous collage and my next one. However, early 2013 marked the beginning of an awakening in me. That winter, a time when we tend to look inward, I found myself ruminating on the person I was at age 15. It wasn't clear to me why I was suddenly attuned to that part of my past, but I listened, as it felt like I needed to re-connect with him.

The year I was 15 was a pivotal year in my life, for many reasons, but most importantly, it was the year I had two highly influential teachers-- Madame Bibighaus for French and Mrs. Teague for Art-- in two subjects that had tremendous resonance with me. It was a time of self-discovery, during which I began stepping out on my own, thinking for myself, formulating my own views and beliefs, and not holding any of it back from my family. The response from my father and his family to this initial glimpse into the essence of me was sheer rejection on all counts.While my interest in art wasn't rejected per se, it was not fostered or supported. Then, due to reorganization in the school district, I never had either of those incredible teachers again beyond that year. While I was able to carry on with my love of French, my connection to art, despite how much I enjoyed it, waned for different reasons. This revisiting in 2013 of the person that I was in 1992 gave way to me want to create more art, so on the 13th of February 2013, I completed:

Solace

"Solace" is composed entirely of magazine clippings. Oddly enough, the zen pottery piece was the starting point of this collage, as I had been eying it for quite some time. It just so happened that the Buddha image that I had on hand fit perfectly on top of the pottery piece, so that became his resting place. The rest of the collage was built around those two images with various design elements. The piece was created over the span of a few days because just when I thought I was finished with it, other elements would come to me, so I kept adding them, creating more layers.

Solace is, at age 15, what radiated from my soul through art, if only those around me hadn't tried to stifle the intrinsic essence of who I was. Solace is also, at age 36, what I experienced in 2013 when reconnecting with the spirit of that 15-year-old. Solace is what this piece embodies, and thus, "Solace" is the title it was given. With Valentine's Day coming up, I gave this art card to my partner to commemorate the solace he so often brings me.

Much like the time period that influenced the creation of "Solace", the piece itself is pivotal as it marked a change in my work. Partly by design and partly by chance, this collage has a more complex and intricate composition than my previous works. Upon its "release" this collage elicited more reactions from people than any of my previous work, which reverberated with me in the months that followed. From this, I eventually realized that I must focus on artwork more. While I didn't know it at the time, "Solace" would serve as the bookend to an era in my work by being the final project that doubled as a card for someone. From there, artistically, I had nowhere to go except to allow myself to jump off a cliff... and see where I landed.

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

Remembrance: Dispelling Emotions through Art

Contrary to what some people think, being an empath doesn't mean that you can read people's minds. In actuality, it means that you can read people's emotions. This isn't always an easy ability to have, especially when you encounter people who have deep emotional scars of which they are unaware. For this reason, dealing with the world's emotions can be very tiring. However, this ability can also be a gift, both for the empath and for the one emitting the emotion(s). Nothing comforts a person more than having someone who can relate to what they're going through, and as the empath, nothing is more rewarding than knowing that your sensitivity to emotions has helped someone. The trick is to know who appreciates your sensitivity and who exploits it.

Six months after creating my previous mixed media collage, I found myself creating the next one. The difference this time was that I was called upon to make it for someone I didn't know all that well. He was a young guy who I met through the cooperative community in Buffalo. He was a member of the credit union where I worked and I was a member of the food cooperative where he worked, so we got to know each other in small doses by waiting on each other. His demeanor resonated with me because if you stripped away whatever layers of stuff life had dealt him, he seemed to be a genuinely kind, and a fellow sensitive, soul. I naturally gravitate toward people like this because I think the world has an abundance of unkind people. At any rate, at a certain point, his grandfather passed away, and it really hit him. From our brief interactions, I learned who his grandfather was and how much he gave to his family, friends, and community. He touched many people throughout his life, particularly his grandson. It was then that I understood how his grandfather had instilled the qualities of a good person in him. From there, my heart broke, over and over again. So, on the 20th of February 2012, I created:

Remembrance

Unlike my previous work where I began with the background and worked my way forward, with "Remembrance" I began with the centerpiece and worked my out and backward. The figure in the center is a fallen gravestone that I photographed in a cemetery in Binghamton, NY. As I began to think about what to include in this piece, this photograph came to mind as I had always enjoyed it. Everything surrounding the photograph is clippings from magazines, with the background being more of the wallpaper I salvaged from a renovation project.

The contents of "Remembrance" are far less abstract than most of my work, but given the subject matter and the central image I was using, it felt right to create a somewhat traditional memorial for this guy. The theme of the piece, and its title, are self-explanatory. I wrote a few lines on the back of the image  (yep, this was another piece of art to serve as a card for someone) to say that it's important to remember because so long as he remembered the good person his grandfather was, the gifts he instilled in him will live on forever. When I gave the card to him, I told him that even though I didn't know him all that well, I made this for him because I was so moved by the honor that he held for his grandfather.

Soon thereafter, he stopped working at the food cooperative, and with me no longer working at the credit union, our interactions are over. I believe that I encountered him when I did so that I could give this gift to him. Honestly, it was a gift for me, too. Not only was it more practice creating artwork, but I learned that simply by empathizing to the degree which I do, I create artwork as a way to dispel emotions that are brewing in this empathic soul of mine. Understanding that exchange, along with this collage to show for it, I can say that, yes, being an empath truly is a gift. 

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

Grace Through Art

Artwork was placed on the back burner while other areas of life took center stage as more than two years passed before creating my next collage. That span of time, while not all bad, was every bit tumultuous. The most significant event was the purchase of my first house. Being a homeowner has agreed with me, primarily because it allows me greater creative control over my living space as opposed to renting. Immediately upon moving into the house, I began painting walls, creating landscapes in the yard, and diving into all sorts of renovation projects. Along with it came some serious repairs that, as a first-time homeowner, I was not anticipating having to deal with right away. In other areas of my life, a one-year relationship went up in flames, my nephew was born, some friendships that I attempted to rekindle after moving back to Buffalo also went up in flames, I entered into a new relationship, and, most unfortunate, issues within my family were bubbling over into my life, causing many problems. It was a volatile time, indeed.

The summer after the one-year relationship ended found me steeped in self-reflection. I started to notice patterns in my relationships and as someone who strives for self-improvement, I recognized that the only way to elicit change was to do some soul-searching. My efforts paid off that autumn when I had a life-altering epiphany, which then gave way to entering into a new and fully healthy relationship. Fortunately, this person was patient and understanding because when he moved in with me the following spring he witnessed me dealing with issues that were threatening to tear my family apart. As his birthday approached that summer, I was eager to create art again and so I decided it was time to make another trademark birthday card-cum-piece of art. Although I hadn't been actively creating new work throughout this time period, I had been collecting material for collage work, and through that process, I started to see the potential in everyday things. So, with a developed arsenal of material, I created:

Grace

Letting my emotions be dominated by these family issues was not doing me any good, so I was searching for inspiration from peace. The idea behind this piece titled "Grace", created on the 17th of August 2011, was to serve as a reminder that in any situation, it's far more helpful if we all act with grace in mind. The sentiment behind the piece also reflects the nature of my partner, who always acts with such patience, understanding, and peace, and creating this was my way of showing that I wanted to reciprocate. Kwan Yin, the central figure of the piece, is an East Asian deity. Different versions of her legend exist throughout various parts of Asia, but primarily she is associated with compassion and easing the pain, cries, and misfortune of the world. She figures prominently in our house.

The background of "Grace" is a piece of wallpaper that I salvaged from a renovation project in the first floor apartment. It was serendipitous that I held onto it, as it ended up complimenting the color green, my partner's favorite color, so beautifully. The remaining elements of the collage are images plucked from various magazines.   

Like my other early works, I can look at this piece and envision ways in which it could be improved, but I try not to focus on that. Instead, I remind myself that this piece is the product of my skill and my emotional space as of August 2011, and in the same way we can't change the past, I see nothing to change in this collage. "Grace" is what I needed to make myself and my relationship stronger, and Kwan Yin helped to materialize it.

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

Dimensions of a Doorway

Seven months passed between my first trio of collages and when I made my next collage. In that time, I passed through many doorways, both literal and metaphorical. It was inevitable, as so much change was taking place in my life: I moved from Chicago back to my hometown of Buffalo; I lived with relatives for three months, then I moved in with a friend while looking for a house to purchase; I was reconnecting with old friends; I was making new friends; I was discovering my own life again after getting out of a seven-year relationship. Everything was new. Everything was different. I was a buoy at sea, staying afloat through the tidal waves of change.

Like the Sun Triumphant trilogy, my next collage was created as a greeting card for another friend’s birthday. She is a longtime friend and one of the few people, along with her husband, who allowed me space throughout my adolescence to be the person I was becoming without any judgement. I visited her two months prior to making this collage for her and was reminded how much of a true friend she is. She is a fellow artist, so the stakes were high for me to create something worthwhile. In the back of my mind, I wondered if my success at creating art that painful day back in Chicago was a singular exception or if I really could replicate that success and create something rewarding again. To add to the looming doubts, I was living a "Spartan lifestyle" due to circumstances at that time, existing with only the essentials and living out of boxes for the most part. As such, I was limited in the supplies and tools at my disposal. Refusing to let any of that intimidate me, I scattered everything I had on the bedroom floor around me and went to work. I kept the composition simple and listened to my intuition, which resulted in:

Doorway

“Doorway” was created on the 30th of April 2009, and is comprised of card stock, ink, magazine clippings, and the photograph "Orange as Any Orange on a Tree" by Nuesa Quaresma. The subject and title speaks to the motif of my life then: stepping through doorways. Additionally, I was in the process of closing on my house, and thus pondering the mystifying doorway into the unknown realm of home ownership that awaited. During my recent visit with my friend, she introduced me to the song “Tangerine” by Led Zeppelin. That song, along with her adoration for the color orange, heavily influenced my choices while creating this collage. Like the majority of my artwork, I created this piece by starting with the background and then working my way forward. Wanting to achieve absolute color cohesion, I altered the card stock from its original off-white with rubber stamp ink to saturate it with the vibrant orange. Once I found the image of the doorway, the other elements coalesced into the collage above.

Looking at this piece now, it’s easy for me to see its flaws, or at least see things that I would change or refine if I were to create it again. However, I've learned that, in the same vein as writing, we have to look back at our previous work with context. While we're viewing our previous work through the eyes of the skill we have today, we have to remember that we didn't have this level of skill when we created the work because our skill is cumulative. Accordingly, our previous work-- whether it's music, writing, or artwork-- is a doorway to the past, documenting the artistic journey of honing our skill. Despite any limitations or doubts, “Doorway” is one of my collages that garners the most comments from people. It’s a prime example of regardless how we feel about our own work (we are often our own worst critic), it may speak to other people in ways we could never anticipate. This amplifies the importance, as an artist, to have faith in our talent and trust our intuition enough to step through that doorway into the unknown and create from the heart.    

Featured in this post: Doorway 
View Nuesa Quaresma's Orange as Any Orange on a Tree
All current artwork can be found in my profile at Fine Art America. Thank you for your time and your support.