HerStory: Wounds of the Mother (and Her Mother, and Hers)
Sharing with you what my art is really about
HerStory: A Survivor’s Journey
A collection of large abstract paintings
Wounds of the Mother (and Her Mother and Hers)
“HerStory” is a living history, telling the story of my healing journey and detailing the discoveries I am making about myself as a human, mother, woman, artist, and survivor along the way.
The paintings from my HerStory Collection are a reckoning with parts of my body and mind that have remained hidden, an attempt to decipher which narratives around womanhood, femininity, and my role in the world are actually my own, which I have inherited, and which of those need to be re-written. This collection serves as a mirror, a way to see those parts of myself, know them, and be for myself what I have always needed.
I am a survivor, daughter of a survivor, and a woman raised under the umbrella of patriarchy and misogyny now raising a daughter of my own.
“Wounds of the Mother (and her mother, and hers)” speaks to the toxic narratives and cycles of trauma around womanhood and femininity I have inherited from society and my own family and the conscious choice to do the work that ensures those cycles end with me.
You can view “Wounds of the Mother (and Her Mother and Hers)” from my “HerStory: A Survivor’s Journey” Collection in my shop here.
HerStory: Ending the Cycle of Generational Trauma 1 & 2
Sharing with you what my art is really about
HerStory: A Survivor’s Journey
A collection of large abstract paintings
Ending the Cycle of Generational Trauma 1 & 2
“HerStory” is a living history, telling the story of my healing journey and detailing the discoveries I am making about myself as a human, mother, woman, artist, and survivor along the way.
The paintings from my HerStory Collection are a reckoning with parts of my body and mind that have remained hidden, an attempt to decipher which narratives around womanhood, femininity, and my role in the world are actually my own, which I have inherited, and which of those need to be re-written. This collection serves as a mirror, a way to see those parts of myself, know them, and be for myself what I have always needed.
Perfectionism served me as a shield for most of my childhood and adult life, a way of avoiding the gaze of others. I don’t know where the story started, or to whom the story belongs - did it start with me in early childhood? Did it start with my mother? Her mother? Is it cultural conditioning? What I do know is that for the longest time, the story in me has been that visibility is a threat to my safety.
My art is as much about my expression as it is a practice in visibility and vulnerability - a practice in allowing my humanity to be witnessed by others and trusting that I am safe to be seen.
You can view “Ending the Cycle of Generational Trauma 1&2” from my “HerStory: A Survivor’s Journey” Collection in my shop here.
HerStory: Freedom is a Practice
Sharing with you what my art is really about
HerStory: A Survivor’s Journey
A collection of large abstract paintings
”Freedom is a Practice” Series
“HerStory” is a living history, telling the story of my healing journey and detailing the discoveries I am making about myself as a human, mother, woman, artist, and survivor along the way.
There came a point where I realized healing is as much about tending to my joy and play as it is about tending to my sadness and pain. I decided to commit myself to a daily practice of play - my daily ritual of joy - where I would light candles, journal, and paint in my art journal with my inner critic on mute. It was from this practice that the “HerStory: A Survivor’s Journey” Collection, a living history telling the story of my healing journey and detailing the discoveries I am making about myself as a human, mother, woman, and artist along the way, was born.
What I learned from this practice, though, is that there is a close relationship between joy and freedom and I think for many people, myself included, the art of freedom is something that gets lost as we age and responsibilities take over.
I was surprised to find that my practice of joy had also become a practice in freedom, and what I found in that practice of freedom was the courage to take risks, explore more, and be bold.
You can view the “Freedom is a Practice” series from my “HerStory: A Survivor’s Journey” Collection
HerStory: A New Way of Being Taking Root
Sharing with you what my art is really about
HerStory: A Survivor’s Journey
A collection of large abstract paintings
A New Way of Being Taking Root
“HerStory: A Survivor’s Journey” is a living history, telling the story of my healing journey and detailing the discoveries I am making about myself as a human, mother, woman, artist, and survivor along the way.
The paintings from my HerStory Collection are a reckoning with parts of my body and mind that have remained hidden, an attempt to decipher which narratives around womanhood, femininity, and my role in the world are actually my own, which I have inherited, and which of those need to be re-written. This collection serves as a mirror, a way to see those parts of myself, know them, and be for myself what I have always needed.
Like digging up the rotten roots and re-seeding the garden so that my daughter, and any future daughters, may enjoy the harvest to come, “A New Way of Being Taking Root” speaks to the work of unlearning the habits of trauma response that have for so long been essential to survival and re-learning how to feel safe in the world again.
This painting is part of my “HerStory: A Survivor’s Journey” , a collection of large abstract paintings coming on September 30th. Collectors Club members will receive an invitation to a private viewing on my website prior to the public release. To join the Collectors Club, go to the link in my bio or join at www.MarcyParksArt.com
You can view “A New Way of Being Taking Root” from my “HerStory: A Survivor’s Journey” Collection in my shop here.
HerStory: Giving to Myself What I Didn't Receive
Sharing with you what my art is really about
HerStory: A Survivor’s Journey
A collection of large abstract paintings
Giving to Myself What I Didn’t Receive
“HerStory” is a living history, telling the story of my healing journey and detailing the discoveries I am making about myself as a human, mother, woman, and artist along the way.
One day, during an EMDR session with my therapist, I saw her - my thirteen year old self. She was so angry and so, so tired. She had spent all of our life, holding my hand, guiding me along the path, vigilant and always alert to any and every potential threat and working tirelessly to keep us safe. At that moment I took her hand that day and held her like I do my own daughter and she just cried and cried. I thanked her for all the work she had done to keep us safe and for guiding us to this moment, for being so brave, for letting herself finally be seen, and I just cried and cried. I promised her that now I would keep her safe and that she was finally safe enough to rest, that I am safe enough to rest.
And now we walk a shared path together, holding each other’s hands, and I point out to her the clouds in the sky, the dancing light on the trail, and the blackberries growing on the vines and when we stop to pick the sweet berries she reminds me to mind the thorns.
You can view the “Giving to Myself What I Didn’t Receive” from my “HerStory: A Survivor’s Journey” Collection in my shop here.
HerStory: She
Sharing with you what my art is really about
HerStory: A Survivor’s Journey
A collection of large abstract paintings
She
“HerStory” is a living history, telling the story of my healing journey and detailing the discoveries I am making about myself as a human, mother, woman, and artist along the way.
As soon as I became a mother, a part of myself that had been previously dormant was awakened. The only word I had to describe her in those early days was primal. She was terrifying. Not to me, or to my daughter, but to anyone that seemed to stand too close, to linger too long, or who presented any potential threat to the tender little life that had been created.
As time goes on and my daughter gets older and her world gets bigger, She and I become more familiar.
She is ancient - older than me, older than my mother, older than hers, older than the Earth,
She is the sharp set of eyes watching in the darkness,
She is always listening, always waiting, but never hesitating,
She is the deep, rumbling growl that comes as a warning,
She is violence and rage,She is tenderness,
She is sweetness,
She is love that is bigger than can be contained in a single body,
She is the mother.
You can view “She” from my “HerStory: A Survivor’s Journey” Collection in my shop here.
HerStory: Feeling Safe to Be Seen
Sharing with you what my art is really about
HerStory: A Survivor’s Journey
A collection of large abstract paintings
Feeling Safe to Be Seen
“HerStory” is a living history, telling the story of my healing journey and detailing the discoveries I am making about myself as a human, mother, woman, artist, and survivor along the way.
The paintings from my HerStory Collection are a reckoning with parts of my body and mind that have remained hidden, an attempt to decipher which narratives around womanhood, femininity, and my role in the world are actually my own, which I have inherited, and which of those need to be re-written. This collection serves as a mirror, a way to see those parts of myself, know them, and be for myself what I have always needed.
Perfectionism served me as a shield for most of my childhood and adult life, a way of avoiding the gaze of others. I don’t know where the story started, or to whom the story belongs - did it start with me in early childhood? Did it start with my mother? Her mother? Is it cultural conditioning? What I do know is that for the longest time, the story in me has been that visibility is a threat to my safety.
My art is as much about my expression as it is a practice in visibility and vulnerability - a practice in allowing my humanity to be witnessed by others and trusting that I am safe to be seen.
You can view “Feeling Safe to Be Seen” from my “HerStory: A Survivor’s Journey” Collection
HerStory: Safe with Her Joy
Sharing with you what my art is really about
HerStory: A Survivor’s Journey
A collection of large abstract paintings
Safe with Her Joy
“HerStory” is a living history, telling the story of my healing journey and detailing the discoveries I am making about myself as a human, mother, woman, artist, and survivor along the way.
I had always carried with me a mistrust for joy, but had reached a point in my healing process where I realized healing is as much about tending to my joy, play, and freedom, as it is about tending to my sadness and pain. At the start of the year, I committed myself to a daily practice of play and freedom - my daily ritual of joy - where I would light candles, journal, and paint in my art journal with my inner critic on mute. It was from this practice that the “HerStory” Collection was born.
“Safe with Her Joy” was the first painting in the “HerStory” Collection, born from the ritual of joy I had created at the beginning of the year and the moments of play and freedom I was finding when creating in my art journal.
You can view “Safe with Her Joy” from my “HerStory: A Survivor’s Journey” Collection in my shop here.
Once an Artist, Always an Artist
Reflecting on Career Milestones in the snd Quarter of 2022
I don’t know about y’all, but this second quarter of the year has absolutely flown by for me.
January through March felt quieter, slower, maybe even a little more guarded. I was deep in reflection and the painting process during this time, creating some of the biggest and most diverse work I have made to-date, and processing through lifetimes of grief (it felt like).
But then April came and the warmer weather seemed to be coaxing me out of my shell, shifting my gaze from inward to outward. I have still been painting, but my production has slowed. I can sense that I am shifting into a different stage of the creative cycle.
I have been feeling a bit overwhelmed by the buzz of activity, feeling as if I am always behind and getting very little done. The truth is, though, that so much has happened in the last three months and the flurry of activity has left little time for processing the moments.
As I write this, I am remembering that in the last three months I have hit multiple milestones in my art career.
In April, my mural, “Call me Crazy”, debuted at the 10th Anniversary ArtFields Art Competition in Lake City, South Carolina.
This moment was huge for me. This was my first time having my work shown in a juried show, shown alongside some of the most talented and inspiring artists in the southeastern region. I was blown away by this experience and what the folks of Lake City are doing to support southern art and artists. This competition changed me. I have another blog post talking about the whole experience that I share here.
At the beginning of May, a piece from my new collection that I have yet to share anywhere else, “She”, debuted at the Kingsport Art Guild for the Appalachian Regional Exhibit.
This was my second juried show to be entered into and it, too, felt surreal. I entered two pieces to be shown, one “safe” piece (a piece that was bold, and expressive, but what I considered to be easier to digest for the general public) and one “risky” piece (one that felt bolder and more raw). I was hesitant in applying to this show from the beginning because I have been told by people in this area before that my work “scares them”. I wasn’t sure how the two pieces would be received, if at all. Much to my surprise, the “riskier” piece was chosen to exhibit in the show. This moment felt very validating for the work I have felt pushed to pursue.
Currently, for the month of June, another new piece from my new collection, “Home in her Self”, is on display at The Emporium in Knoxville, TN as part of the Dogwood Arts Regional Exhibit.
This is my third juried show to be entered into after having been previously denied entry to this exhibition in the past. Again, this moment was hugely validating for the work I am currently feeling pushed to create, and also validating to my personal growth as an artist. While I am still struggling with my imposter syndrome as I see my work hanging next to such incredibly talented and experienced artists, I am still overwhelmed with gratitude for the opportunities. (If you are in Knoxville, the show is up through June 25th! Be sure to stop and check it out.)
These were experiences that, when I was a teenager dreaming of being an artist one day, I always believed would mark the moment that I had “arrived” as an actual artist.
For the longest time I struggled to call myself “a real artist” because I had not ever done anything that I felt made me “worthy” of that title. I made art, sure, but that didn’t make me an artist! (18 year old Marcy was funny like that)
It wasn’t until 2019 that I would actually start claiming that title for myself, and even then it was with hesitation.
Now I have no problems telling people that I am an artist - but am I any more of an artist now than I was when I was 18? No, of course not.
The second quarter of the year brought with it huge milestones for me, all of which I am so incredibly grateful for and still reeling from, but it is during these moments that I have to remind myself that even if I were to never sell another painting or to never share another painting publicly ever again, I would still be an artist.
Yes, these moments are big milestones, yes, they feel very validating, but the truth is, and what I always tell my daughter, is that my relationship to my work is all that matters in the end.
That being said, I can’t help but feel like 18 year old Marcy did not dream big enough. 33 year old me has much bigger plans for the future and is excited to see where else this path leads.
And I cannot thank you enough for being here and sharing this journey with me.
What I Learned at ArtFields 2022
What I learned from competing at ArtFields 2022
In April I participated in the ArtFields Competition in Lake City, South Carolina and I have to tell you - it was incredible. I came away from this experience so inspired and for so many reasons that I will get into, but to start, let me tell you about the event.
If you haven’t heard of ArtFields, let me tell you about it. ArtFields is a 9-day-long art competition held in the small town of Lake City, South Carolina. Lake City is a small, agricultural town of about 2,000-4,000 people and ten years ago, the organizers of ArtFields decided they wanted to pursue revitalization of their community through southern art, and so, ArtFields was born.
Ten years later, ArtFields is massive, attracting thousands of artists to enter from all over the southeast. For their tenth year competition, 400 artists were selected, including myself, bringing their work to display all over the town of Lake City.
Over the course of the competition, there is art on display everywhere, and I really mean everywhere. Nearly every business you walk into has multiple artworks on display. Businesses participating in the ArtFields competition as hosts to artists and their artwork all had the ArtFields logo emblazoned on their windows and doors in bright orange. There are sculptures, murals, community art projects, and interactive art installations spread out all throughout the town all with ArtFields signs directing you to “more art”.
My piece, “Call Me Crazy”, was on display outdoors for the event. (Check out the catalog of artwork on display for the 2022 event here!)
I went to Lake City for the last weekend of the competition and I have to tell you, it was really overwhelming for several reasons - the artwork alone is something I am still processing nearly two months later. 400 pieces of artwork on display and I maybe saw three-quarters of the work that was on display. You really need the entire 9 days to see all the artwork and give each piece the time and attention it deserves.
For the sake of this blog post, though, I am going to list my 5 Biggest Takeaways from the ArtFields Competition.
Artist Appreciation:
Right off the bat, the thing that stuck out to me the most was the way Lake City values artists. Their goal for their community is to “Make Lake City and Art Town Year-Round”. Coming from a place that regularly overlooks the arts community to a place that not only values art and artists, but is also actively trying to recruit them into their community brought me to tears on my first day.
Community Support:
The entire Lake City community was pumped for this event. Nearly every business I walked into, I was greeted by business owners showing me the art that was on display in their building. Let’s just say that where I come from, there is not nearly the same level of enthusiasm for community events. Witnessing this had me wondering what all it took to get the community on board with supporting this event.
Talent in the South
Y’all, the art that was on display for this event was incredible (one of the reasons my imposter syndrome was raging over the weekend). Southern artists have historically been overlooked by museums, especially self-taught, black, southern artists. To anyone questioning the validity of southern art, I would encourage them to attend ArtFields. For a large part of my young-adult life I carried shame about the region where I grew up (for both personal and cultural reasons). I, at one point in time, did my best to eradicate any hint of a southern twang in my dialect. This show reminded me that, although the south has a troubled history, there is much to be proud of that is coming from this region - especially the brave souls creating bold and challenging work.
4. Imposter Syndrome is a Bitch
Speaking of imposter syndrome, mine was on high alert the weekend of the competition. As an “informally educated” artist (I don’t claim to be self-taught, because I have learned from other people, just not in an academic setting) with no formal training, I struggle with the validity of myself and my work in the presence of artists further into their career paths or that have formal training. I don’t know if this is something that will ever go away, and I still struggle to manage it, but one thing I try to do when I hear the voice of my imposter syndrome is to ask myself “what’s behind the story?” What is behind the story my imposter syndrome is trying to tell me? My imposter syndrome wants me to believe that my work is invalid compared to the work of others and doesn’t deserve to be in the company of such talent, but behind that story is the insecurity, envy, and grief of a vulnerable part of myself that is scared of being seen. Instead of listening to the story of my imposter syndrome, I choose to lovingly hold those feelings with both hands and give myself the comfort and assurance that I need in order to commit more fully to the work that fulfills my heart and soul.
5. Long-term sustainable support
My biggest takeaway from this experience was the work that ArtFields is doing to support artists in a sustainable, enduring way. ArtFields announced that their next phase of growth includes establishing affordable artist studio spaces and long-term artist residency programs in order to “make Lake City an Art Town year-round.” Because of their full-commitment to supporting southern artists, it inspired me to dream bigger for the mission of Bristol in Bloom and the ways in which Bristol in Bloom can grow to support Appalachian artists more sustainably.
I don’t know that I will truly know how deeply this experience has impacted me for some time, but I do know that I came away from it changed - not just by the experience as a participating artist attending the event for the first time, but also by the art that I consumed while there. For so long I have feared being noticed which resulted in me staying small and “playing it safe”, but after my weekend at ArtFields I made a promise to myself that I would no longer allow that fear to hold me back.
Paint Your Feelings Workshop
“Can you be aware that as much of the beauty you want to create, so too is there a need for things that are antithetical to it - so too is there a need for something gruesome, or ugly, or strange, or put together in ways that our mind can’t quite understand…” -Chani Nicholas
Paint Your Feelings Workshop
Monday, April 4th 2022
“Can you be aware that as much of the beauty you want to create, so too is there a need for things that are antithetical to it - so too is there a need for something gruesome, or ugly, or strange, or put together in ways that our mind can’t quite understand…” -Chani Nicholas
I have a young daughter named Searsha who will be turning 5 soon. She currently goes to a daycare where she gets to play, make art, make messes, and just be a kid for most of the day. Of course, there are still rules, and manners, and procedures she has to follow, but on most days, she absolutely loves it. Most of the time when I pick her up, she’s in good spirits, still riding the high of whatever game or activity she was doing with her friends, but there are some days when I pick her up that she falls into pieces the moment I get her buckled into her car seat.
On those days where she falls apart, it usually doesn’t take much to get her going. For example, there is a free library right outside of her school that we usually stop to visit at pick up. We take a book from the library and when we get to the car, I read it to her before we head home. Then, we return the book the next morning at drop off for another family to take home. One day she had a mega meltdown in the car because I told her I would read her the book after I buckled her into her seat instead of before.
The dramaaaaa
I’ve heard several other moms share similar experiences - speaking about the meltdown that comes shortly after pickup. This isn’t an uncommon thing for kids. It even has a name - the “After-School Restraint Collapse”.
The idea is that kids are trying so hard at school all day to “be good” or, in other words, to keep their shit together. So, after they have been on their absolute best behavior all day, once they get to a place where they feel safe to do so, they let it all go. It’s like a bubble just waiting to burst.
On the days when Searsha is having a harder time than normal, we make sure she knows all feelings are welcome and we prioritize low-key, soothing activities once we get home.
Just don’t make any loud noises
What I now recognize as both a parent and a human myself, though, is that adults are not very different from kids. Many adults that I know, myself included, come home exhausted by the end of the workday because the truth is that the customer isn’t always right, but having to pretend like they really are because your job depends on it is absolutely exhausting (or maybe you’re just tip-toeing around the delicate ego of your boss, or you really want to correct the coworker who keeps getting your name wrong, or maybe you’re waiting to hear back on the more-than-reasonable raise request that you should’ve gotten ages ago).
The difference, though, between adults and kids is that kids are really good at airing out all of their frustrations - maybe even a little too good sometimes. (Oh, did you want to actually hear the teller in the drive thru line of the bank? The screaming toddler in the backseat said IDGAF.) They don’t hold anything back out of “social obligation”. When kids are mad, sad, scared, or all of the above, they feel it, they express it, and next thing you know, they’re fine! It’s like it never happened.
As adults, I think, we get really bad at this. We get so conditioned to hold ourselves together and put our “best foot forward” in every setting. And don’t even get me started on social media and the role it plays in all of this - but to be clear, it plays a major role. It’s like we learn to hold our shit together in so many different social settings that we forget how and where to let ourselves fall apart, so we, too, become the bubble just waiting to burst. .
Don’t forget to breathe!
But everyone, and I really mean everyone, needs that space where they can let themselves be their whole, honest, messy selves. Everyone needs a space where they can just let shit fall apart, where they can say what they really want to say, where they don’t have to be perfect, where they can just be.
That feels better
That’s exactly what my Paint Your Feelings workshop is meant to be. It is not a workshop for making masterpieces, it is a workshop about learning to be whole, real, messy humans again without judgment or resistance. Remember the “perfect golden child” Isabela singing out her revelation in the movie Encanto? “I’m so sick of pretty, I want something true, don’t you?”
A transformation we love to see
My Paint Your Feelings workshop is an introduction to my own daily painting process. When I set out to create a painting, I never know what the outcome will be or the finished work will look like. In those moments of creating, my only intention in those moments is to show up, be honest and express myself authentically, no matter how “messy” it might look. In other words, I am giving myself permission to fall apart.
The objective in the Paint Your Feelings workshop is to dedicate time and space to allowing yourself to experience your own emotions and validate yourself by witnessing yourself. In the workshop, we get quiet, get curious, write, and paint. Again, the goal isn’t to come out of the class with a masterpiece, but instead to come out more connected to and accepting of yourself and where you are in the moment.
My next Paint Your Feelings workshop is coming up on Monday, April 4th at the Full Bloom Farmhouse in Abingdon, VA and I am so excited to share it with everyone! Join the Collectors Club to get updates about future workshops, including future online workshops!
"Those Who Wander" Ornament Collection
A small collection of Hand-Painted Ornaments inspired by those who are “living deliberately”.
“Those Who Wander” Ornament Collection
Dedicated to the folks out there who are “living deliberately”.
Some of you may not know this about me, but I am not a classically trained artist. My Bachelor's degree is actually in English Literature! I am what is commonly referred to as a “Self Taught” artist, but I prefer to call myself an “informally trained” artist because I have learned from other artists, and still do, but I have not been trained in the classical, academic setting.
Making art was my first love, but creative writing and literature were my second.
This batch of ornaments is born from my love for the Romantic Movement of the 19th Century - a literary and artistic movement that came in contrast to the 18th Century Enlightenment Period.
The writers, artists, and thinkers of the 18th Century Enlightenment Period emphasized reason and the scientific rationalization of nature. Everything in this time period was viewed through the lens of reason.
But not all things can be explained with reason, right? Like the feeling you get when walking through the woods in the fall when everything is quiet and the colorful leaves are falling to the ground soundlessly like snow. Or the way you feel when the morning light is shining through the windows of your home and making the shadows of the blinds twinkle and dance. There’s not much to reason about those experiences.
And that is where the Romantics (with a capital ‘R’) come in.
The leading writers, thinkers, and artists of the 19th Century Romanticism Movement saw nature as a living, breathing thing and would often personify it in their works with feelings and emotion - something the scientists of the Enlightenment Movement could not reason to be possible. The Romantic Movement was a celebration of nature, intuition, emotion, and artistic freedom.
One of the leading and most commonly recognized writers of the American Romantic Movement was Henry David Thoreau (we’ll call him HDT for short) and his book, “Walden”.
Here’s a quick summary about Walden:
HDT gets tired of living in the city so he decides to go live in the woods near Walden Pond in Massachusetts taking with him nothing but an axe! He spent the next two years there in a little cabin he built for himself writing the book, “Walden”, which details what he learned from the experience.
One passage I always come back to when I remember this book is when he says, “I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.”
These ornaments are dedicated to the individuals that HDT would describe to be “living deliberately” - the individuals that are confronting what is in front of them, choosing their life “on purpose”, and living with intention.
These ornaments will be available at the Mill Spring Makers Holiday Makers Faire in Jonesborough this Saturday, December the 4th from 10 AM - 4 PM! If you can’t make it to the market, they will become available on my website on Sunday, December 5th! You can shop them here.
Call Me Crazy
In fact, / I’d dare anyone to call me crazy / Without having taken / A single breath / Feeling in this world / With a heart like mine. / Go ahead, / Call me crazy.
Call Me Crazy
8’ x 4’ Original house paint, acrylic, oil pastel, and graphite on plywood panel
Call Me Crazy is my largest abstract painting to date. It is an 8 foot tall and 4 foot wide plywood panel painted with house paint, oil pastel, and graphite.
I created this painting for the first, annual Bristol in Bloom Art Festival, which is an art festival I put together to happen in my hometown in Bristol, Tennessee.
As I continue to grow and progress as an artist, I find that I am always trying to explore the boundary of what is “too much”, “too messy”, and/or “too crazy” in my own work. I am always trying to push my comfort zone within those definitions and challenging my own perceptions around what it means to go “too far” in hopes of finding a greater sense of freedom. Each year I try to find that edge of “too far” and each year I find more freedom in my movement and expression, but I still have yet to meet the edge.
I loved every bit of the experience of creating this painting. This painting absolutely poured out of me on a sunny afternoon in late September. The panel was too big to fit into my house, so I had to paint it outside on the side porch. Being able to paint outside opened up a lot more freedom for me because there wasn’t a fear or concern about keeping paint off of the hardwood floors of the living room. Painting on plywood panel also opened up more freedom because it was sturdy enough and secure enough that I didn’t fear it falling over, so I could really be rough in the paint application. So much energy went into painting this piece. I was jumping to reach the top edges, throwing paint at the panel, and blaring some of my favorite Florence and the Machine and Amythyst Kiah songs all at the same time. Painting on my porch meant that all of my neighbors could see the entire process unfolding.
There were moments where I thought, “They must think I am crazy,” but for the most part, I was so absorbed in the process of painting, I didn’t care. This painting, for me, was a moment where I felt so free to be myself and express myself fully. In fact, at the time, I thought “If this is what people call crazy, then I stand proudly by that.”
Afterwards, I reflected on other times in my life when I was called crazy and I started thinking about how often we mis-label people and things to be “crazy”. I started paying attention to how often I call an event or experience “crazy” (more than I’d like to admit) and have been actively trying to choose better descriptor words that more accurately describe an experience. In that process, I wrote this poem to accompany this painting.
“Call Me Crazy”
“Crazy,” he said,
“A train wreck.”
Crazy?
Call me crazy, but
This world is a little
Crazy-making
And I’d call her anything-
Angry
Lonely
Traumatized
Sad-
Before I’d call her crazy
In fact,
Crazy is an easy word
Much easier than words like
Complicit, or
Accountability, and
Introspection.
In fact,
It drives me a little crazy
To hear a person called crazy.
Why don’t we use words instead like
Compassion, and
Patience, and
Mental-Emotional Support?
In fact,
I’d dare anyone to call me crazy
Without having taken
A single breath
Feeling in this world
With a heart like mine.
Go ahead,
Call me crazy.
Collectors Club Members will get exclusive access to this original painting on Friday, November the 19th. The painting will then become publicly available on November 20th. To make sure you don’t miss out on collecting your ornament, join the Collectors Club here!
Memories through the Lens of Grief
Grief, to me, has an amorphous quality like fog. It is formless and shapeless, but it has density to it that makes it feel cumbersome to carry. Sometimes you’ll be moving through grief without even noticing it until you're in the thick of it, surrounded on all sides, and uncertain of where you are or how you got there.
Memories Through the Lens of Grief
40”x30” Original Mixed Media on Gallery Wrapped Canvas
Grief, to me, has an amorphous quality like fog. It is formless and shapeless, but it has density to it that makes it feel cumbersome to carry. Sometimes you’ll be moving through grief without even noticing it until you're in the thick of it, surrounded on all sides, and uncertain of where you are or how you got there.
I created this painting in late October, early November of 2020 after my father passed away. My father was an alcoholic and was mostly absent from my life. The relationship we did have was strained, but it improved when I started seeing a therapist and came to accept the person he was and our relationship for what it was.
Early into the 2020 year my father was put on hospice care for advanced COPD and Emphysema from years and years of smoking. It was around this same time, in a session with my therapist, that I realized I was full of so much grief that I had never acknowledged around my father, the absence of my father, and the relationship we never had. At the time, my belief was that grief was reserved for death and loss, but I now understand that this is not the case.
Before he passed away, I grieved the father I didn’t have and the father I wished I could have had. Grieving my father’s absence felt like moving through the thick fog of a rainy fall morning that is dense and lingers late into the early afternoon before the sun can burn it off. It felt like I was moving through it for weeks, sometimes unsure if I was on solid ground or floating in water, and everytime the shadows of life would start to form around me and I would think that I was getting oriented in the world, the shapes would change and I'd find myself adrift again.
But just like with actual fog, time, like the sun, slowly melts it away.
After my father passed away in October of 2020, the grief shifted and changed, changing with it the landscape with which I had previously become familiar. The grief of his death felt more like the fog that rolls in and pools up atop a river in the evenings and then dissipates in the morning. It felt more temporary, more weatherable. It still occasionally rolls in at certain moments of remembering, but it’s much softer and doesn’t linger quite so long. In truth, it has been much easier to grieve his death than it was to grieve his absence.
The process of grieving the father I didn’t have actually helped me come into a greater place of acceptance for who he was and the relationship we did have. It was because of this I was able to spend some of his last moments with him without expectation or need and that I was able to reconnect with the few fond memories we did share from our history before he passed away.
It was when I was painting this piece, and reflecting on our history and those few fond memories that I realized that there is something about grief that softens the sharp edges of painful memories and helps us come into a deeper relationship with peace.
Collectors Club Members will get exclusive access to this original painting on Friday, November the 19th. The painting will then become publicly available on November 20th. To make sure you don’t miss out on collecting your ornament, join the Collectors Club here!