It's hard to hold up the artist banner. I have been "playing" the role of artist for a few years now--trying out mixed media, coming to love the sweet smell of beeswax and the sheer thrill of fusing an encaustic painting with a torch instead of a heat gun, smearing and dotting acrylic paint with my fingers as I explore my beloved abstracts, and finding silent bliss in learning new bindings for my handmade journals.
I am still exploring, still experimenting, and still reaching toward finding my own style, my own voice. I've "pinned" plenty of inspiration, taken Flora Bowley's on line class and an in person encaustic/book workshop with Bridgette Guerzon Mills, but for the most part it's just me, a canvas and some paint. Through it all I have been paying close attention to what speaks to me and what I aspire to, knowing that I am learning about myself with each brush stroke so that my art will become a reflection of me and not of the artists I admire. That being said, I truly believe that those who teach us ultimately leave a mark on our soul and are therefore always represented in our art in some way.
The abstracts I am creating now are me: pure and simple, layered and complex. When I look at them I can breathe: they soothe my frazzled nerves and quiet my scattered thoughts. They make me want
to stand up and
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shout: "I am an artist. I am an artist because I choose to be." (Thank you, Samantha!)
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