CuratorPosted: december 27, 2020 / Modified: december 30, 2020
Though my love has always been to create and do all that was different and weird and unique, I never saw myself as an artist, myself saw me and so a journey began, evolved, spun out of control it seemed at first as chaos but then it quieted and I realized that I was not alone with these alien thoughts running through my head, other's shared them too and they found me, a comfort; so henceforth I was not alone.
How does a young fashion designer/sachal designer/interior designer now become an artist, simple? I stopped looking for my vein of gold in other sources and mediums and it found me. The thing I gave up in high school had finally grab hold of me and refused to let go. Now well into my fifties and you know what, I'm glad, I'm elated it did. I might have continued adrift had it not. This new course of expression is explosive let alone addictive and if asked I think to give it back, I would rather fight like a wild cat clawing than let this freedom be withheld again.
Every eye needs to be painted, every tree a model for my canvas and the sea and clouds my brush's comfort. Yes, I am a designer, my painter assures me and so I grow.