I shared recently a little bit about how I was struggling while making this piece, and how I was stunned and honored to find that it had been awarded grand prize in this year’s Infected By Art annual. I shared about the process, how I wrecked and found and wrecked and found many times over during the progress of this painting, and sharing that made me realize by reading some of the replies that it was interpreted as if the struggle was the wrecking and finding. Well, that was definitely not what the struggle was, but I can see how that might’ve been interpreted that way. But really, there’s so much in all of our lives that is going on behind the curtain of what’s shared on social media or just publicly.. Anyway, I mentioned that I would share some photos of the progression of this painting. It went through some interesting changes, most of which I personally felt seemed a bit contrived. And so I wrecked and found again and again. I didn’t take a lot of photos during the progress of this piece, but here are the few I did take.

Wrecking and finding IS my process (and I love working that way!) It’s how I build my paintings from start to finish. It’s how I roll. The struggle I was referring to was the simultaneous existence during the making of this painting of all the things I don’t tend to share in public in the form of words or posts on social media, but is what I have shared glimpses of in the works I create. And it’s not that I share them outright, not in a straightforward way. It’s not like illustrating a segment of a novel but in the form of a life moment. To be honest, I often am not aware that I’m sharing these things in the work. It’s really in the time spent and in the communication with the painting as if it were speaking with me, a form of reflection, revealing and uncovering layered moments, conjuring thoughts and feelings that were otherwise perhaps buried deep within.

So there is this dialogue of struggle, and in the same sentence or chapter (or entire story), a back and forth, a push and pull, a wrecking and finding and wrecking and finding again and again. But the struggle is not in the again and again losing and finding, it’s in the why. It’s in the seeing oneself and the reasons we make the decisions we make. As artists who work this way, we spend so much of our time seeing these moments when decisions are made – not just in the art, but in life – because so much of our time spent painting allows us to be doing this. We see the past moments that have us making those decisions and the realization that there are many other decisions that could have been made. Perhaps there would’ve been different outcomes, we fluctuate between what we see as the way the world does things, only to see that each view on its own is actually a very limited view.

And in the sifting through these thoughts, we find ourselves wanting to speak more freely, wanting to be more open and engage, share and hear the stories of others we thought we knew but hadn’t become familiar with the presence of that connection as well as we’d like, and something that has us feeling a sense of simultaneous urgency and nostalgia, we sprinkle a tiny pinch of what we’ve been holding within, hoping we don’t seem too needy or too much of a burden especially during times that seem poignantly bleak, but also hoping to share that we are feeling a bit like we’re sinking and thinking ‘does anyone else feel this way?’ Because we sense that there are others who do. And we want to connect with them. We send signals in our art, in the characters, in the stories.

Even though we may paint visions of strong and capable voyagers, the point is not that they are always composed and in control and haven’t felt weak or raw at times, but that these voyagers we paint have realized that in having felt that struggle, that sense of near abandoning of oneself, of being wrecked and found, and of lifting themselves out of it, that it’s made them more wholly powerful in their sense of autonomy, in their sense of being and connection. They are future mirrors spawned from within us, formed from doubt and fear and those raw and vulnerable inner spaces that have shown that this is what it is to discover, with expressions strong and knowing in the facing of unknowns, this is what it is to grow into a continuous becoming, in the wrecking in order to find something else, something different, something new, something that feels like we’re learning and gaining an understanding that the authentic beings we hope to see grow into a stronger sense of truth in the believing in ourselves is actually what authenticity is. It’s in the wondering and testing what we’re made of and who we are. It’s in the not knowing, and in the acceptance that this a big part of what being human is. And it’s in the seeking others who vibrate with this magnetic energy that we feel within when we allow ourselves to live in our truth.

Authenticity is messy and weird and mysterious, and inside of that, it can maybe feel a bit unsettling, creating a sense of fear to speak our truth because our nervous system has built up this incredible charge and defense to protect ourselves out of literally and unwittingly living masked for so much of our existence. But viewed differently, it’s also what makes it wonderful and beautiful and magnetically powerful. It’s like how bravery isn’t a knowing that we will conquer whatever it is we are rising up to challenge, but rather, it’s the acting on a feeling, however terrified we may be. It’s the act of doing what we feel a deeper sense of connection with, what we feel a pull towards doing, and regardless of feeling terrified, we do it anyway.

It’s brave to wander and not know where that might lead us, it’s brave to take the steps to rewire our neural pathways. It’s not the quick and easy route, but it’s the path that leads to meeting ourselves as the whole beings that we are capable of being, and all of what’s gotten us there is included in that. To never dig deep to discover it, to never work with it to shift and grow is doing ourselves a great disservice. To hold back when we feel a sense of the unfamiliar creep up, to never question why that makes us feel this way, to never wonder if there are other ways outside of that holding pattern is to never truly know ourselves or give ourselves the chance to be open to all of what’s possible. Just to step ever so slightly maybe at first out into what feels uncomfortable or maybe even terrifying is the way to at least get past it, and each brave step is to continuously build and shed, wreck in order to find, add and peel away layers, cover and reveal, always showing us who we are in the back and forth of it all.

This is where my process comes from. A push to always be growing, healing, learning, and to challenge myself to push through when the thoughts creep in that I’m not able to feel strong enough or have the courage it takes to do so. I am continuously learning what that means. My process has organically found itself, as a means of working through and with what life has in store while navigating this constant departing and arriving in the recognizing of a new way of seeing. Through the doing, I realized I could show myself that I can work through things that feel chaotic while I could also create strength and courage by painting various forms of future selves that I could look forward to meeting someday.

During the creating of these works, all sorts of emotional swells are happening, realizations of why I decided to do or change something, revealing what was living in my mind and what life-related things I had to compassionately meet with and move forward from. All of it lies in these layers, not hidden, but as more of a scaffolding. All of them work to arrive at the new revelation. And then we start again with all of that having been experienced and with a new form of constant departing and arriving in store. The act of losing and finding in my painting process comes from being inquisitive, second guessing myself, a belief, a disbelief, or a strive for betterment, a want for connection, a digging deeper, a letting go just to feel, just to be, a hope, an insecurity, a questioning of self or of strength, all kinds of things.. and I have to meet myself there and walk myself through it all. I often will really be tough on myself, wondering if I’d been spending too much time wrecking and finding, as if only I could just get past this, It would really cut down on the time I took on this piece or that piece, and then I remember.. this is all a part of who I am, and I can give myself grace in that knowing. This is the way I arrive at my finished works because this is me making art while being an imperfect, attentive human who is immersed in the experience of living.