tongue tied.

Creating art can be an enormously personal process, something that requires focus and intimacy from the artist. distraction however, from oneself or outside, can throw you like a catapult. But the process of creating is albeit one piece of the puzzle. To complete work, brings on the desire to share it, opening up an entirely new discourse of intent. Faced with the questions of significance--what's your statement? what do you have to say? where are you from? what are you doing???  This exposure can shatter or provoke the soul, where the idea of worth suddenly becomes part of the formula.

In recent years ive changed course in sharing my work. I no longer care to be simply a label on a wall, but realize that connecting with a piece, as in creating it, is a deeply personal experience, one that is only heightened by the face to face contact. Having the opportunity to meet, talk, and smile with those looking at my work has been both enlightening and tumultuous. I’ve seen my  brightly coloured stories turn to shadows on the street, and ive seen eyes of fascination from being stopped in one's tracks. As an artist, I am constantly re-calculating my motives, rearranging my display, questioning. With these moments of indecision, every impulse opens or closes a window of discovery. 

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At times, my eccentric abstracts have had little place, but understood that staying true to my own artistic nature was necessary and continued to carve my identity. Moving abroad I made a hard turn in my life's path. A turn that would leave me having to rebuild that identity as an artist. 15 years of work, materials, parts of me in a space I developed a foundation in, would no longer be at my fingertips. Nonetheless, step by step I've faced the challenge with vitality. Searching and jumping onto opportunities like boards floating in water. I suddenly find myself  in the midst of tremendous history and talent, with the challenge of staying firmly on course weighs in.

With many months of disarray,  my creative corner is blossoming once again. Bits of finished and unfinished works scattered about, drops of paint on my floor and clothes, and there's that all but familiar tension of conflict and impulse. Creating is not just about finished pieces, but experiencing the sentiment of an artistic mind. The surge of energy felt in the midst of painting is something I wish to transcend to the viewer. Being able to connect, through colours on a surface, and seeing that spark of curiosity catch in someone passing by is a moment of reassurance for me. We need to look more, get lost more, pay attention more, appreciate more, and simply, surrender.



Planting Seeds

It may not appear so, but I can in fact be a timid painter. Patience becomes a common practice, waiting to capture an instant of creative burst. At any given moment, unfinished paintings are scattered about, some eventually rediscovered, and some torn from the frame. I often come across scraps of canvas, cardboard, ripped pages from years ago, when I was only starting to gain momentum as a young artist. At the time these scraps lacked meaning or significance, but coming across them today reminds me of a spark that was full of fight. I struggled immensely to find sense of what I was doing. I am curious, stubborn, and am constantly exploring.  In times of discontent, I must remind myself to remain open, and restrain from carving one path too deeply. Remember to feel. So today, on a windy day, holding down these flying pages I deepen the roots from the past and sink my toes in the soil for the future. 

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My beautiful, tortured double life.

Choosing to write this post has come with a degree of hesitation, but it’s relevancy in my life currently has been too strong not to express. One of the things I have always been most proud of is my commitment in pursuing my dreams. Part of this dream has often been to follow the more unbeaten path, take risks, and explore with an unwavering curiosity. For anyone who has known me over the last 10 years, undoubtedly knows of my time spent abroad. In 2006 I travelled outside my country for the first time to live a year abroad, alone at the age of 22, in Florence, Italy. The sense of belonging and fulfilment in this place was immediate. That was the beginning for me, a decade of unrest.

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Fast forward, and I’ve since travelled back on 8 occasions, totalling 2 years, 8 months- and counting. Each trip comes with the affirmation that I will, maybe next time, stay. But in those years in between, of thinking, planning, wanting, waiting, life has continued to grow. The stakes of what I leave behind have become deeper, the emotions stronger. Details aside, what I really want to communicate is the feeling, the sensation of living between two lives. Part of this whirlwind of emotion is one of the most prevalent aspects of my painting. The flux as I move between places, memories, and identity. The movement back and forth has become a light switch. There is a constant motion of re-adapting as I travel between my worlds. With this has come sacrifice, impatience, and an almost constant anxiety of not knowing my next step. I put myself through it however, totally willingly, for the parts of my heart that have been filled in the web are beyond measure.

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To look at my work then is to dive into my mind. My paintings are my life. They communicate the tension and release of all I can process. The one constant in my life is the desire to create. This outlet has with certainty been the one path I have always chosen to follow.

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