It was a dark period in my life as I entered my forties. I had stopped seeking or reaching for anything. My life felt devoid of beauty, mystery or soul; I was exhausted. At the precipice of my surrender into this darkness, art called out to me. She found me at the time when I was lost yet ready to listen, and I began to express myself again with paint.
My work and the ways I create are bold, bright and full archetypal images and symbolism which spring from a deep well of feminism. This creativity runs through my blood and that of my ancestors — a long line of accomplished artists — like vermilion paint. I wasn’t finished after all, I was just beginning. My heart and soul are pumping full of life again.
I seek to be honest in my expressions; this has changed my experience of life completely. I’ve always been a seeker of truth and I believe art in its purest form is truth shared boldly, unafraid. I believe this is why people are drawn to artists and art — whether it’s painting, music, sculpture, memoir — when you experience truths you are touched in valuable ways. You are better for it. When an artist dies, he or she leaves behind a huge hole, a profound loss. We gravitate to their work in newfound appreciation, such as with Prince or John Lennon. Take it from me — be brave and tell your story in your own unique way. You’re never finished, you are simply starting again.