The past year and a half has been a chrysalis. Month after month wrapped in the cushion of my little cocoon, seeds were planted and watered, old traumas were safe to surface and release. And when the rains passed, new ways of being sprouted alongside blossoms in my art. The emerging flowers and plants in my recent paintings are symbols for new growth, for innocence, for rising skyward in the face of increasing pressure, isolation, and suffering. Strength and confidence alongside delicate fragility and impermanence. Awe-inspiring beauty just because.
Sometimes I wonder why I paint. My mind tries to catch up with deeper impulses and knowing, not understanding the need for something that seems to have little practical value. But if I’ve learned one thing this past year, it’s that this universe is a wild place that makes a lot less sense than I tend to think.
I really believe art is magic. It defies my own understanding and only after painting dozens of paintings do I sometimes realize why colors, motifs and compositions emerge. My soul speaking her values through preferences, inclinations. And in a moment of ah-ha, the veil is lifted and my mind gets a little peek into the wisdom my soul wants to communicate. Pure magic. That’s why I paint. And those moments of magic are a thousand times worth the frustrations, over-efforting, self-doubt and feeling lost that I encounter along the way.
A new series I'm working on: "Wild Abundance" is an exploration of this and much more. I'll continue to share my journey as it unfolds!