Prior to the pandemic, most of my paintings I created were self-portraits and illustrate the internal strife I have suppressed since my childhood in regards to the loss of my mother at an early age and the anxiety that developed in my latter years. Turbulent water, powerful text, cracked deserts, swirling hair, fluid lines, toxic smoke, vivid reflections, and breathtaking canyons are the images that consistently appear in my pieces. Water, in particular, reflects the chaotic flow of ruminating thoughts, overthinking and overwhelming emotions that accompany generalized anxiety disorder. I often juxtapose water against serene skies, deserts, or canyons to emphasize the delicate balance between controlled and out of control emotions and the “all or nothing” thinking that accompanies an anxious brain.
I use self-portraits as a form of art therapy but it also allows me to capture an authentic and honest depiction of how trauma and unprocessed grief can manifest in the human mind and body. However, what started out as a way to process grief has turned into a collection of pieces that illustrate a deep well of emotions that is part of the human experience. My paintings tap into the sadness, loneliness, inadequacy, and stress that lie behind the mask we often wear as parents, wives, daughters, friends, and co-workers.
My paintings are done in acrylic paint but some contain small bits of mixed media such as handwritten notes and gel transfers of text. A few pieces have acrylic pouring liquid that spills off the edges of the canvas to symbolize the overflow of emotion and thought that can no longer be contained inside the body. The fluid and organic lines of Art Nouveau have influenced my artwork greatly and there are always undulating shapes and lines that course through my backgrounds to illustrate the constant movement of my mind and emotions.
What is unique about my artwork is the rawness with which I paint both my reality and others: A bold, soul-baring collection of the inner workings of an anxious brain.