My art does not stand on a soap box with an in-your-face message for the world. I scrapbook the images running in my head onto paper, a canvas, or piece of wood. Only after something is complete do I find all the little parts of me, and the thoughts I was working through.
I studied to draw portraits, and paint landscapes; but my taste draws me to three-eyed cats and sea witches. My images are impacted by my current interests, mental health, recurring influences, and finding humor in the everyday. I mix mediums and collage materials, because I’ve fallen in love with every craft I’ve picked up. Bookmaking, printmaking, charcoal, watercolor, acrylic, oil paint, sewing, or collage. I refuse to subscribe to just one.
I want each piece to tell it’s own story. I don’t want to feel constrained by my own beliefs, or rules I learned in a class by someone else. I make my artwork for myself, but the feelings put into each piece, we’ve all experienced. I make each subject colorful and abnormal. They aren’t meant to mirror any one person, ethnicity, or demographic. I process the world through my art, but I want others to find part of themselves in each piece. I want them to be all the little voices that we never let speak;
‘Why do I always feel out of place?’
‘I’m not enough.’
‘That person is insane.’
‘I’m not like you. Does that make one of us bad?’
‘You don’t have to find me attractive for me to be beautiful.’
I want them to be the dreams you remember when you wake up. You may not know why they were there, but they hold something only your subconscious can process.