Telling My Story

I get asked often what inspires or informs my work, or even (believe-it-or-not), what does  my work mean.

It has taken me several years to begin to be able to put words to my story, & I still often struggle to “define” the concepts behind what I do.
My work is a bit whimsical, but I work at being dark, edgy. I try to avoid ever hearing “cute”, though I sometimes still do. My work is sculptural, with emphasis on faces & figures. I have also spent many years doing freelance work as an art director in the film industry. I have come to resent the image, or idea, that Hollywood has tried to sell us, that “normal” equates to beautiful. I  grew up with a brother who has cerebral palsy (he is wheelchair confined), a learning disability, & he is deaf. I do believe “normal” is different for those of us who grew up with a handicapped sibling or other disabled family member. Who gets to decide?
I am always exploring the lines where dark & light meet, trying to form sentences about human frailty, & imperfection. Not attempting to make any sense out of life, or arguing for any particular point of view, rather, to probe the act of seeing, & of being. To look inside, past the physical, to see what there is to see, & to feed the curiosity of viewers of my work, but mostly my own. Getting a feel for life, & dancing just beyond the demarcation of what is often the dark side of  who we are.
There’s a real purpose & longing in my need to write this specific story, as there is to continue reading what I have managed to get down, the characters, the setting, the plot & the conflict. If I’m only going to be here on this planet for a short time, I might as well get a feel for what it means to be here.
See what I mean by my “struggle to define” my story? It’s an ongoing process, & hard for me to view objectively. But I am nowhere near ready to stop telling it.
Thanks for listening/seeing/buying  ; )   

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