Me: who, what, when, where, why?
Hey there friend. You’ve arrived here, and my guess is that you’re expecting me to slip in some kind of a resume right about now. A list of accomplishments, achievements, degrees, super impressive really long words. And although I’m not really all that attached to these things right now (long story about how I’ve spent the last four years actively detaching from approval + achievement) I realize that some of you may be curious, so for you, here’s the short list:
I went to UCLA and double majored in fine art and creative writing. The summer after graduation I opened an art school on Pacific Coast Highway in Redondo Beach, and taught art to thousands of kids for nearly sixteen years until COVID nudged me to close my doors.
But the truth? The Universe was serving me up the message that it was time to do ME … something that I had not done in a very, very, very long time.
You feeling me on this? When was the last time you did you? I mean REALLY did you? I’m not going to lie and say that being an artist my whole life has made it easy to fly my freak flag all around town 24/7. People think I do, because I make it look easy to be original, or different, or authentic, or whatever the buzzword of the week is.
But the truth? To be an artist for me has been to be caught permanently between my inner and outer worlds - never completely belonging to either.
But this time, right now, today, I’ve arrived. It’s here. My time, my reclamation. I’ve had so many job titles it’s insane. But right now?
I AM A PAINTER.
I wake up excited to pour my tea and head into my library to paint, which usually starts around 7:30 am and ends about 9:30 pm. I take an afternoon break to drive my sons to their sports practices, to drive myself to acupuncture, to take the occasional walk with a friend. I make dinner for the family (we’re not wolves around here, jeez). But every waking moment I spend painting. And when I’m sleeping it’s half-awake dreams of color palettes and new subjects and the next collection that I want to explore.
I CAN’T NOT DO THIS WORK.
It’s who I am. I’ve heard people say things like this before. My Uncle, who is an artist and a musician, and my dad, who is a songwriter. My Aunt who is a poet and a singer. And now me. It’s in me too. My birthright is embodied, it’s landed. And I am sure as hell committed to pouring all that I have every single day out of my heart and onto my canvases for you.
Love is for sharing.
My art is my love.
I hope that it finds you happy, healthy, and free.