I make everyday art.
my album (photographs)
my shop (paintings)
diary of an artist
As a kid it was mostly about defiance.
About rebelling against the maths and sciences in a
cowardly attempt to protect myself from the things I
could not understand.
As I got older it came to be about release. About
learning to let go of the things I want most in this
world in order to make room for the things I need.
Less angst.
More acceptance.
Art lets me love the ugly. Painting forces me to look
the reality of the world around me in the eye and then
it blesses me with the chance to change it. It begs me
to climb inside the parts of me that dont make sense,
all the bruises and the broken hearts, and get down on
the floor with fear and work.
It makes the giant promise that grace, fate and divine
intervention will meet me there.
I paint because I am selfish, because I want to know
the point. I paint because life isnt fair and
sometimes I cant take it. I paint for proof that this
is real, that he was here, that she said the things I
think she did. I paint so I can have something real to
hold on to when the moments gone and disappeared and
all thats left of it is color.
I stand alone in the little room where I live with my
dog and I look at the things I have created. I hear a
million voices, different sides to the exact same
story, all speaking to me at once.
I close my eyes and breathe it in.
I touch the things Ive made and I am grateful.
