My mother was a dreamer, a seeker, an emotional observer of life, and a painter. I always admired her process but didn't really take time to learn from her. I was afraid to learn, afraid that the magic would disappear once I learned the foundational aspects. A few years ago I finally asked mom to teach me. We found a source piece that I liked, set up a canvas, and she sat and coached me through as I hesitantly navigated the foreground, background, and layers of my urban escape. I learned that the magic is not in the piece itself, but in the creation of it. This painting now hangs by my front door - there is so much love for me in this capture. The moment mom and I shared, my musical and poetic influences, my love for the city, and what would become my love of painting. In 2021, COVID-19 suddenly sequestered us all to our homes with our thoughts, dreams, and unmet goals, and many of us dove in to explore them. I had all types of unused art supplies sitting in a closet taunting me quietly but persistently. One day I finally pulled them out, decided to throw some paint at canvas, and realized I’d not been so happy in a very long time. It was frenetic, meditative, and I was hooked. My goals moving forward are simply around connection and love. To feed my interest in the arts, to meet my fellow creatives, and just to submerge myself in that beautiful spot in my soul that cries out for artistry. While mom is gone now, I know it’s this practice of paining that keeps us connected - she still speaks to me as I work and her words come out in the colors, textures, and energy of each piece.
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