COVID KINDNESSES

April 21, 2021

My pandemic experience inspired a visual journaling series I like to call “Covid Kindnesses,” an ongoing documentation of items I received from my community. Creating small works of these “gifts” was a multi-purpose exercise in painting more frequently and imperfectly, launching a new project during the stress of Covid’s onset, and identifying the multiplicity of ways I experience love and support from those around me. It’s been an ongoing practice in noticing, seeing the ways love can be small but mighty, and generously present in the rhythms (and chaos) of my days.

A number of questions arose out of the project: What “counts” as a gift? Can a gift only be for an occasion? Can a gift be accidental? How thought out does the gift have to be for it to matter? Does the giver and the receiver need to know it’s a gift for it to be a gift? Depending on the answers to some of these questions, most of us are receiving an overwhelming amount of gifts on a daily basis. Covid Kindnesses uncovered quite a bit of richness in meaning to the simple gestures of my community.

It’s likely I won’t always paint every single gift I ever receive, but I’ve felt a little more whole in practicing sought out attentiveness to kindness. I wonder what it looks like to be a person that holds these observations all the time, or often enough to take less things for granted, to be more thankful, to be a more reliably-kind human for the people that know me now and at some point in the future, to be a starting point for love.

We are Competent and Protected From Disaster

POSITIVE PETALS

November 6, 2019

Acrylic and large-scale painting are both new to me, and even flowers have not been a frequently-repeated subject in my work until this year. It’s funny how things become a familiar part of your practice. I was hired in early 2019 to paint several murals for a local business, which was my first big dive into acrylic paint. After the murals wrapped up, I wanted to make use of the leftover paint. At the time, my housemate frequently kept floral arrangements around our home, and I found myself snapping pictures of my favorites. Pairing that with some left over paper I had from other large-scale projects, it was the perfect set up for some big, acrylic bouquets.

Flowers ended up being a good subject; they are consistent but can still be different with every painting (plus they’re beautiful!). Having a queue of pictures saved in my phone made it easier to worry less about starting out into new territory, finish one, start the next, and just keep painting, even when I was still adjusting to the new medium.

I’m a big symbolism person. I love finding and creating layers of meaning in unexpected habitats. My journey with floral paintings progressed in tandem with life’s low points, growing pains, and hard days. It made sense to me, and added a tender dimension to my series, to inspire each piece after seasonal life mantras and timely conversations with wise friends and trusted advisers.

These flowers became reminders of strength, resilience, and capability in a way that I loved. It’s odd, yet so fitting, that these flowers could be bold messengers, being tender, fuzzy things themselves.

I think we all need to encounter beauty. To see and touch and be surrounded by beauty is crucially connected to our health in everyday life, but also through the discomfort of growing and changing and becoming new people. I believe it’s particularly important when we walk through pain. Scaffoldings of beauty can keep us more anchored in the midst of grief and disorientation than we would be otherwise. In recent years I’ve relied more heavily on my art to be this kind of cushion for me.

These paintings could serve as pages from a journal, a graph of my mental and emotional growth over time. They are the botanical retelling of life lessons and prayers and “what-the-hells?!” They remind me (and hopefully permit others) to hope for growth and healing and more beauty. Flower paintings are beautiful all on their own, but the kind and brave words they carry add more.

Bras and Sadness

October 2, 2017

Fun fact: "Bra" comes from the French word "brassiere" meaning "a soldier's arm guard or shield." At times, life can be more than stressful, it's painful. Things can happen that deeply wound and bewilder us. We'll not feel quite ourselves for a long time, maybe a very long time. Our self image becomes distorted. We can become alarmingly unsure of things that used to be easy to believe. Sometimes being in our own skin becomes very hard or even scary. And things that felt familiar grow to seem unwelcoming.

For the past several months, eh, year(s), I haven't felt totally myself and my beliefs have been wracked and my head and my heart and pretty much all of my insides have been aching ruthlessly in some ways. And I promise this has to do with bras because I've been desperately trying to surround myself with positive messages. Not the kind of annoying positivity printed on dollar store notebooks, but ones that change something about me because they go nearly as deep as my hurts. Messages that respect pain and the realness of being broken but still give hope and healing a fighting chance. Symbols that remind me of who I am and Who my life belongs to.

As I was painting this picture, I was thinking about a friend who's dealing with some not nice stuff right now and wanting so badly for them to be well. I was reflecting on my own labors with pain and loss and sadness. I thought of other folks who have walked really really really hard roads. There are people I'm worried about and friends I want to hug and strangers that are dealing with rough shit and I wish they weren't. So, I find myself on the lookout at all times for reminders of real strength. That means there are days I listen to "Anything" by Hedley four times on my way to work. Some times, I need to specifically drink "Big Joy" coffee (@camber, you're a life saver) in the morning, probably in an extra large mug. And some times, I need to know the etymology of a term used to describe a lady's undergarment, so when I get dressed every miserable and/or merciful morning, I'm reminded that I'm strong and alive and able and loved and everyone else is too. Thank you, @darling and @melaniespoon for coming up with the best ideas first.

For the kids.

August 27, 2016

This week I closed my two-year career of working with children in early education. The past few months I took some time to focus on the inspirations my afterschool job provided, and here are some illustrations from the collection. Enjoy!

Shalom!

June 28, 2016

I had the privilege of closing out my undergrad education with a trip to Israel. Our over-sized and very American group of students toured the Holy Lands for about a month. Although the program mainly focused on academics, we witnessed many faces of the land of Israel, and these paintings depict a few: the natural world, daily life, and eclectic scenes. This brief collection, some five-minute sketches and other more detailed works, unfortunately doesn't cover all of it. There was so much to observe. Enjoy this sampling and know that the real thing was sensational!

A collection of potted plants in the courtyard of the Church of Dominus Flevit, Mt. of Olives, Jerusalem.

Modern day shepherd and flock near Nahal Zin.

Young boys chatting during a morning ride, Jericho.

Market passage in the Jewish Quarter, Old City Jerusalem.

Third-floor view from Hotel Neve Ilan, Jerusalem.

Giant seed pods from trees near TIberias, Galilee.

Palms on Shabbat, near Tiberias, Galilee.

Noticeable interior decor, near Jerusalem.

Leftovers.

May 15, 2016

The past few weeks, my roommates and I have been in the process of moving out, and Friday is the final farewell to our third-story, 900 sq. ft. home. I'm the last to leave, and when I walked through the door the other night to silence, only-white walls, and maybe too much space, I experienced some nudges of slow panic and isolation bubbling to the surface of my gut. But gradually, as the newly found quiet side of the apartment and I have gotten to know each other, this week has become a space for recovery, preparation, and reflection from the past few years, for an upcoming trip, and for the transition ahead (cheers to post-graduate life!). All of the sudden, familiar living spaces have produced new looks from the removal of two year's worth of stuff and chaotic flutter of move-out madness. I'll turn around now and again, surprised and delighted by the company of beauty snippets that sit quietly in the corner or on the mantle, waiting to be found.

Enjoy.