I have always been an artist. Yet it was in art class that I found myself in the most trouble I ever faced in school. In kindergarten, a parent-teacher conference was called when I didn’t adhere to the directions to use only white, pink and red to make my Valentine’s project. In sixth grade, the same disciplinary measure was taken because I laughed too much. Happily, both of these characteristics are still present in my work: I use ALL the colors, and my pieces carry the energy of uplift, enthusiasm and delight.
I like painting big because of the way it both requires and captures movement. Building the framework for the canvases myself feels like a warm-up to the painting process. By the time the frame is built, and the canvas is stretched and gessoed, I am so eager to get color on.
I have no idea what a painting is going to be when I begin. Sometimes I start with movement and color. Sometimes I begin with an intention, written on the canvas. I am often delighted or completely confounded by what shows up. I believe nothing is wasted. Each mark gets used; each mark has a purpose. Art is good practice for life in this way. Everything is in service to the development of our own essence. Each life happening that is contrary to what I imagined or hoped or expected offers an opportunity to unravel its mystery—how is this disappointing situation actually the revealer of kind truth? Colors are then added in response to the layers that are already applied. The painting, and life, builds like this.
In my paintings I deal a lot with these questions: “Was that a mistake?” “What if it wasn’t?” “How can I focus on areas of beauty and interest?” “How do I show up in a big, colorful way that expresses all of me?”
