My studio full of old junk (I mean “treasure!”), 2007
Art that tells a story? Isn’t that called…illustration?
Note: After two decades, I am finally using my college degree in its purest sense. My mother is thrilled! Thanks mom, for always encouraging my creativity.
When I first moved to Portland and rented my gallery space, I sat there, surrounded by all of my art supplies… and all of this old “stuff” I have always collected. Quirky, sentimental old things to do with childhood, holidays, families, marriage. Some of you might call it “junk.” I call it “treasure.” I’ve schlepped this stuff around for decades. From house to house and state to state. I never knew why. I always assumed it was some sort of dysfunction.
So I sat in my gallery, surrounded by my piles of old stuff, and I didn’t know what to do with it. I didn’t know what I was supposed to be creating. What my “path” was. Then a good friend said to me, “Just make the art and it will all become clear.” So, I made the art. And NOTHING became clear. Because, as it turns out, I was making the wrong art.
I was hiding from what I really needed to be creating. I was hiding from the pain.
But then I started to WRITE…and everything just came pouring out. Everything I had been holding in my heart since Drew died. And then a miracle happened. Suddenly…all of the old, quirky STUFF I had been hanging onto fit perfectly with all of the WORDS I was writing. It all made sense. I had found my path. Hallelujah! It was about time. God knows, I was overdue for a miracle.
I Illustrate my short stories with three-dimensional collages. I combine words, objects, paintings…and architectural remnants covered in toxic, peeling lead paint. I do so like to live dangerously.
I use my artwork to help people to FEEL…to THINK…to QUESTION, and of course…to LAUGH. By combining my ART and my WORDS I can connect, educate, motivate and if all goes well…inspire. The other day, a friend said to me: “Who would have thought to express their life in a collage of memories glued together on rotten lumber?” I thought it was the perfect description of my work. I’m so lucky to be an artist and a writer. It has allowed me the freedom to create something from my private chaos. To give meaning to my loss. To process my memories. It’s helped me to heal. I hope it can help you, as well. I’m following my bliss. My life has become my art.
To see the art and other favorite things that go along with my stories…go to YARD SALE !
To read the sometimes dangerously irreverent stories that inspire this way cool art…go to WORDS.
p.s. If there are any stories that you would just absolutely LOVE to see me create a piece of art for (and I haven’t already)…. please LET ME KNOW. I am always looking for an excuse to use up more of that old stuff I continue to accumulate.