Painting as medicine
90% of why I paint is because it is my medicine. I set aside true expressive art-making for two decades once judgments crept in so much it was too painful to paint. Now, after substantial personal growth work including deep attachment and trauma work last year, a portal to my creative self cracked open, unleashing an avalanche of passion, aliveness and vulnerability. The creative process is raw and unpredictable, requiring continual trust (and therefor so much love and sensitivity). It demands that we continue to shed expectations, let go of what was and stay curious about what might come next. I paint to evoke surrender. To reveal where I hold on too tightly, exert control where I actually have none, and stifle the process and my own wild heart - and to move through those old fears with the fluidity of inky paint, an attitude of playfulness and a growing comfort with being seen. I paint to show up and say yes to life - and to whatever shows up on my painting - and just respond with sensitivity and love. I'm here to step into more trust, more wildness, more freedom, more joy, more authenticity, more wonder. And to pay homage to the great mystery and paradox of the Divine Feminine - finding greater wholeness through embracing dark & light, playfulness & wisdom, innocence & depth, harmony & contrast, belonging & authenticity, delight & shadow, symmetry & imperfection, stretching & accepting, preciousness & abundance, etc... I want my art to convey these paradoxes and to evoke a sense of our own mystery and wholeness.