Why Make Art?
From as early as my younger adolescent years, I remember art always being the most constant thing about me. Even as I started to grow into myself and different facets of who I am faded and new ones introduced themselves, one thing I knew for sure was that art would never leave me. It is inherently, inextricably, and irrevocably me.
When I think about how long art has been with me, I can’t help but think about who I was, who I am, and who I will be. I think about myself as a little girl that commanded attention and scribbled boldly. I think about myself as a teenager that felt lonely and retreated to my sketchbook for company. I think about me now, a young adult who is both relieved and afraid that I still want to create. As I’ve gotten older and the “real world” of adulthood looms over my head, I have started to utilize my art practice as a way to revisit times in my life where things felt more certain. Times where things felt more simple, I was completely sure of myself, and a hug from mom was the only thing I needed to feel better. Childhood.
My art practice explores the emotional and mental states of my most current lived experience. Right now, that space can best be described as the metaphorical bridge that exists between childhood and adulthood. That space of in-between-ness. Using primarily collage, my process includes working between both analog and digital forms to reflect on my past and present selves. The materiality of wrinkled film photos in partnership with digital elements gives my memories a new life, and allows me to experience them once again. Taking apart both old and current photos and putting them back together serves as a means of remembering, forgetting, and rediscovering. When I embroider and sew into an image, I am mending the hurt I had been housing. When I scratch my words onto a picture just to flood it with color, I am designating my own space of refuge. When I make anything, I suspend the belief that time is passing at all. I let myself hold onto who I was for just a little longer and approach who I am becoming just a little slower.
The thing about growing up and growing pains is that they are completely universal. Everyone, at many points in life, are faced with the shedding of past versions of themselves and putting on new ones. I think this is why I love talking about it so much. Although my artwork primarily depicts myself and my own specific experiences, somehow they are just specific enough that others find themselves relating, remembering, and reveling in what it was like to grow up. More specifically, what it was like to grow up and then realize it.
When I think about how long art has been with me, I can’t help but think about who I was, who I am, and who I will be. I think about myself as a little girl that commanded attention and scribbled boldly. I think about myself as a teenager that felt lonely and retreated to my sketchbook for company. I think about me now, a young adult who is both relieved and afraid that I still want to create. As I’ve gotten older and the “real world” of adulthood looms over my head, I have started to utilize my art practice as a way to revisit times in my life where things felt more certain. Times where things felt more simple, I was completely sure of myself, and a hug from mom was the only thing I needed to feel better. Childhood.
My art practice explores the emotional and mental states of my most current lived experience. Right now, that space can best be described as the metaphorical bridge that exists between childhood and adulthood. That space of in-between-ness. Using primarily collage, my process includes working between both analog and digital forms to reflect on my past and present selves. The materiality of wrinkled film photos in partnership with digital elements gives my memories a new life, and allows me to experience them once again. Taking apart both old and current photos and putting them back together serves as a means of remembering, forgetting, and rediscovering. When I embroider and sew into an image, I am mending the hurt I had been housing. When I scratch my words onto a picture just to flood it with color, I am designating my own space of refuge. When I make anything, I suspend the belief that time is passing at all. I let myself hold onto who I was for just a little longer and approach who I am becoming just a little slower.
The thing about growing up and growing pains is that they are completely universal. Everyone, at many points in life, are faced with the shedding of past versions of themselves and putting on new ones. I think this is why I love talking about it so much. Although my artwork primarily depicts myself and my own specific experiences, somehow they are just specific enough that others find themselves relating, remembering, and reveling in what it was like to grow up. More specifically, what it was like to grow up and then realize it.