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In the evolution of my artistic journey, I have come to understand the importance of releasing the image. The image was the tether to that part of me that needed to please. My earliest memory of me as an artist was when I was about three years old expressively drawing with color. I was lying on the floor while holding a teal green crayon, and I confidently and consciously chose to loosely scribble it over the image of the coloring book. As I joyfully worked, I was experiencing the freedom of not coloring perfectly within the lines—it was an epiphany! These thoughts were forming: "Why can't I do this? Why does it have to be within the lines? Isn't this more interesting? There are other possibilities!" Then I heard my father exclaim as he stood over me and my artistic experiment, "Ewwwww, that's terrible!" From that moment, I was errantly in search of approval by perfecting my image making which lead me on different artistic journeys. Now I am back to that place where I instinctively knew I belonged—drawing and painting intuitively. I cannot help but wonder what if I did not listen all those years ago? Where would I be now?

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I can only go forward on this journey and begin again. My artwork work attempts to abandon the image but gains something deeply connected to the human experience—trust. The layers, brushstrokes, edges, lines, colors, and spaces ebb and flow while I paint and draw. I instinctively know to allow my brush and marking tool to dance and move along the surface of the canvas. My canvas and I have a dialogue. I trust myself to listen to it. I know exactly what colors the canvas needs, what lines need to be softened or added, and what shapes need more attention. Even with all of this abandoning of the image, it can appear. "If an image knocks on your door and demands to enter, make sure the door is unlocked" (Cassou & Cubley, 1995, p. 61).

 

Sometimes those images are a jellyfish, an oyster, a horse, and so on. I am not purposefully creating them—they just appear. "When you set aside the mantle of control in the painting process, images arise from ancient layers of the psyche that may not fit with the conscious perceptions you have of yourself" (Cassou & Cubley, 1995, p. 146). Instead of abandoning the image, my goal is to abandon the conscious control and censorship and get back to my instinctive place of creating authentically. 

 

My only guidance to the viewer is to trust yourself and to be open to the experiences of my work. Hopefully, when looking at and interacting with my artwork, it invites interpretation, emotions, ideas, and more personal connection to yourself. 

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Reference:

Cassou, M. & Cubley, S. (1995). Life, paint and passion: Reclaiming the magic of spontaneous expression. Jeremy P. Tarcher/Putnam. 

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