For those of you who don’t know me that well, I went to a fancy pants art school. To be honest, I had a pretty hard time there. RISD is a wonderful school, with amazing teachers, students, and courses. My fellow students were and are oozing with creativity and inspiration. And I'm constantly proud and amazed to see what they are up to these days. Despite having a difficult four years, I'm grateful for the experience, and in no way take it for granted. Reflecting back, the unhappiness the sometimes shadows my memories stemmed from my own emotional confusion. Those four years claimed my inspiration, and the joy of making.
After school it took me YEARS to start creating art again, apart from a few sporadic paintings. About a week after my daughter was born, I nestled her in the crook of my leg during her nap, dug out my watercolors, and painted the shotgun houses I’d seen on our walks. We spent hours like this; taking breaks to play and eat, and go on more walks. My musician husband bounces ideas around with me, making some pieces collaborations with his own creative perspective.
We haven’t stopped since. Our very existence here on earth causes a daily sense of enveloping wonder, and stirs my creative juices. As she grows, she experiences joy and enthrallment in details that I rushed by before, or just didn’t even choose to care about. A single blade of grass becomes a precious gift as her warm fingers press it into my hand. Our Tupperware, that I can never match with the correct lid, transforms into a patterned circle as she helps me ‘cook’ in the kitchen. Colors are brighter, animals more sacred. Whimsy and miracles are found throughout our days. This is where my art is nourished- in the sweet spot of love, joy, and thankfulness.