Growing up I was called 'creative' because I refused to give up my crayons. Yet I never admit to myself that I dreamt of being an artist. Instead, I followed the path laid out for me: college, job, family, motherhood. I gave my crayons to my children.
Then, the pandemic. Time to learn 8th grade math so I can teach my kid. At the end of each day I needed a release (besides cheese popcorn and boxed wine). One evening I picked up my old iPad and tried to draw on it. No goal, just doodle and escape. It wasn't pretty, but it felt wonderful. I remembered that part of myself that I'd locked away. I found my crayons.
My digital drawing is a cross between mindless doodling and automatic drawing. I start with an inspiration: a photograph, a scribble, a paint smudge. I quiet my monkey-mind and channel shape, color and story onto the screen. Sometimes, the end result is interesting enough to share. Other times it's pure self-care.
My other passion is creating new things out of old things. Discarded toys, plastic garbage, broken figurines — formerly loved objects — inspire stories told by adding words and color. I guess you'd call that mixed-media. These works explore how cherished objects are discarded, just as the work itself will ultimately degrade.
The common theme of my art is extracting meaning from the random. Each piece is improvised with little planning. I try to let the story tell itself. I want to emphasize that each artwork can only have been created in this moment, in this place, by this human being. Just as what you see in a work of art has everything to do with who you are, where you are, when you are, and whether or not you had breakfast.
