expressive art

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Picasso said "there is no purer artist than that of a child at play."
Children are uninhibited, they understand expression of emotion; they are free to cry, laugh and be angry. Children are expressive in all they do; they feel the moment and live in the present. Uninhibited, their spirits are free to speak through color, shapes, music and dance. In purity and innocence we all lived once; when hope and all possibilities were infinite, without the constraints of judgment, we danced with joy, sang aloud and colored outside of the lines.

If only we could return to that childhood. We can’t, but we can overcome inhibition and heal. I hear people all the time telling me they have no artistic ability, that they can’t draw a straight line. I truly believe anyone can express themselves with abstract forms, shapes and color. It just takes boldness to try. Creativity is a healing freedom and our choice of expression is our spirit reaching out to be heard. Through expressive creativity we can be reunited once again with the child inside. I'm no psychologist, but I discovered these truths through experience and accident. Art has always been there for me; a companion in the dark, a motivator in the mundane and a confidant when I needed to be heard, a willing participant in celebrations of joy. At 10 years old, and after the death of my brother, art and inspiration was there for me. I found clay on the banks of a river and through that clay I healed.

In 2002 my world was rocked again by a loss. I don't know why…but I walked into an art supply store that day and I left with paints and canvas, much like how I don’t know why I scooped that first handful of clay. But, I did never less and a new medium with color entered my world. My soul desired to be free from the years of perfection pursued; the science, the anatomy of animals and people. My soul was calling me, compelling me, to express itself in a new way, trying to release me from the boundary of the natural world. But I fought it.

The night I gave in to it, was in anger, I was mad. I couldn't sleep, and wandering the empty house I entered my studio. There sat a blank canvas on an easel, which Id been avoiding for months, afraid to mess up the perfect white. But with passionate strokes I attacked the canvas with paint that night! My choice of color was black and darkness consumed the white until there was no reminder of its purity. Tears formed in my eyes as the symbolic realization hit me. Emotions of grief swept over me as unconsciously my brush and hands moved over its surface. I don't recall but lighter colors eventually began to form on the canvas. Shapes of circles formed something was taking shape out of the darkness and I felt hope enter my mind. I called it "Genesis" when I finished. I felt so free from the pain I had experienced just hours earlier. Again and again I’d return to the white canvas and now, with a room full of paintings, I’ve decided to share them.

It is scary to reveal this to the world as an artist, to be so exposed, so vulnerable. To symbolically rip open my chest and show my heart to the world can frighten an artist beyond words. But I’ve realized it is the next step and is part of the healing process and what I must do.

Even in writing this I expose myself. I’ve shared and painted along side with a few close friends and they too have enjoyed the freedom of painting expressively. We have shared wine and music and I’ve walked them through boldly confronting the canvas. These friends’ lives and emotions fill the blank canvases and in all of them a beautiful vibrant colorful life was revealed.