I’ve always been creative and entrepreneurial which has been both, a blessing and a burden.
When I was 11 my teacher declared “No more businesses in class.” due to my selling lanyards to my classmates, candy during lunch, and the partnership I started with two classmates till we were caught crocheting products under our desks.
As a teen, I made for a bad employee since my bosses valued what time I arrived and how I fit into the rules and routines while I measured the metric of efficiency, results, and happy customers.
At 23 I married my best friend and struggled to find the balance between honoring myself and wanting to meet the "shoulds", norms, and expectations of my then-husband who prioritized financial stability and routine. During the five years we lived in NYC I worked as a full-time nanny to 3 beautiful and busy families. Still, between each family contract, I’d give my all to a new endeavor, stressed against the pressure of shared expenses and timelines issued by my husband.
At this point in my life, I saw art as a high-brow activity for classically trained artists, people with higher education, and traditional taste. As a New York and New Jersey-raised high-school dropout I did not fit this mold even slightly. Still, I often gravitated toward art stores where I felt the tingle of excitement and potential in every aisle. Finally one day at a Pearl Paint supply store I gave in to my creative urges and bought a modest 30x30 canvas.
Around this time I was having daily panic attacks as my voice and spirit were suffocating under my husband’s opinions and decision-making. This canvas became my one place of freedom where I didn’t have to conform or risk ridicule. I allowed myself to use any medium I wanted and make any marks that felt inspired, and I didn’t have to think about it, verbalize it, or justify it to anyone.
Then all in one week, everything changed as my marriage ended and my father was found dead at home suffering a massive heart attack. He lay there for almost two weeks before being discovered since he was semi-retired and lived alone. From this incident and other neglect, the house needed major work and it was months before I was able to clean it up enough to move in away from my husband and pick up that canvas again.
I’d never lived on my own, never been truly independent, and now for the first time, I had no male figure in my life dictating or ushering my every move. The decisions were mine and I could finally follow my heart. I had no blueprint or budget, just a blank slate, naivety, and a mortgage to cover. I was in way over my head and in total survival.
My time in New York had changed me, and returning to this small town felt ill-fitting, to say the least, but living in line with the saying “Idle hands lead to an idle mind and an idle mind is the Devil’s workshop” I kept my hands busy while my mind swirled, seeking a direction. I sat on the couch, wearing Dad’s old shirts, painting whatever I felt, melting the stress down, and cataloging my life experiences one brushstroke, one painting, at a time.
As an outsider artist I’ve learned things about art and the art world at a difference pace and perspective than those who’ve studied the canon, and technique. To make a career out of art was not a well-funded decision under the guidance of mentorship or encouragement, it was a passionate and uninformed leap of faith during one of the lowest, most desperate time of my life.
I've seen and felt how art holds this incredible power to embody anything you throw at it, with absolutely no judgments whatsoever. It's wonderfully generous in that way. And whenever you're in need of a certain feeling or a gentle nudge of memory, there it is again, with ever-lasting presence.
The creative process is a reliable old friend. It's always there, always an option, and always ready to embrace whatever you want to express, be it your thoughts, your memories, your feelings, or even those sudden creative whims.
I’ve watched my work evolve as I have, getting smarter, more refined, and distilled as time passes by.
My work evolves as I do. It gets smarter, more sophisticated, and distilled, as the years go on. It might sound a bit strange to say that my rebellious, modern creations bring me closer to nature. But then again, what's more natural than delving into the intricate workings of the human spirit?
In the realm of art, there's a constant wellspring of inspiration. There's always something waiting to be explored and expressed. Maybe, just maybe, my next piece will weave a tale about... you?
