I started painting during the height of the pandemic. Like most, I was in a bizarre state of existence, my head in the proverbial sand (ignoring the likely demise of my marriage and the inability to visit my dementia-laden mom). It was only then that I found myself picking up a paintbrush and saving myself from a banana-bread-baking stupor.
During this time I found my hands covered in paint as I existed in a haze of messy comfort. I blasted classic rock ‘n’ roll and JP Saxe’s “If the World Was Ending.” I drank wine and I stayed home.
Professionally, I’m a senior communications advisor and former founder of my eponymous communications agency. Over the years, I published a non-fiction book and many first-person essays and interesting features for a variety of media platforms. Staying home meant I had plenty of time to work, but I was quickly faced with a new, unfamiliar feeling: the inability to string two words together.
Overwhelmed with a brain fog that rivaled my pregnancy years, I fielded calls from clients as they asked, “How do I pivot to stay in business?” Voices filled with desperation and panic, I hopefully doled out good advice. To this day, I still can’t utter the word pivot, apparently due to a phenomenon called “semantic satiation”.
A period of self-reflection and solitude, masks and misinformation, sparked the genesis of my art journey. In a Mel Robbins’-esque style, here is what I’ve found to be true: if you can’t stop thinking about something, then it is worth exploring.
The journey that started six years ago as a novice’s canvas of disbelief has evolved to be more subtle. As I learn and experiment with my paintbrush, my messy creative process has become a therapeutic way to work through heightened emotions. My mixed media and message-spewing pieces were welcomed on display at the Romany Kramoris Gallery in Sag Harbor, New York. Now, three shows later, I thought I would take a moment to reflect on my process.
HOPE
My very first painting, “HOPE” was an outlet for my sanity: personal reflection, a daughter abruptly snatched from college and back in the nest all while watching a world in disarray. George Floyd, and countless other examples of rising hate in our country, ignited a need to say something. I pieced together phrases like “the world needed to press pause” and “mask in my pocket.” I was inspired by disbelief and an ubiquitous worldwide sense of despair. The deep dive of my creative process was captured by editor Jessica Mackin for James Lane Post.
Daughters
On womanhood. This work encapsulated my deep feelings of pride and love for my daughter as she navigated the many milestones in college amidst a pandemic, in addition to shifting family dynamics. It also portrays the bond I shared with my late mother and the women before her. The colors and words are also representative of pride and self-acceptance.
Circle of Life
Stages and ages recycle in what history has termed the “circle of life”. At its core, patterns repeat over decades and generations. I pulled inspiration from vintage images and antique objects to convey this big message on a small canvas.
Life of Rock
Turn off the news, turn on the music. Life of Rock is my most recent piece that pays homage to just a few of my favorite classic rock artists: Phil Collins, Genesis, Fleetwood Mac and Madonna, and their records that defined my generation: Life before doom-scrolling and constant screen distractions.
It took a few years but I finally understand the genesis of my inspiration and how it has become an integral part of who I am today. I realized that my years of writing and storytelling could also be shared on canvas. Often, big life changes – divorce, aging parents or happier ones like weddings and birthdays – tend to spark new inspiration. It’s a way for us to channel our collective and individual crap into making art.
Find something to wash away the dust of everyday life.