Traced solitary…

Most of the time I need to create in order to see what it is.

As in the case of these nudes.

I just had an urge to paint them.

I had to.

 

 

Later on, sitting in my studio, looking at them…I realized what they were.

Traces of memories….memories of solitary confinement.

I could have known.

The way they came about was hurling myself, body painted in black, up against the wall of paper. Then I worked with the traces, expressively, and then felt like covering them in a layer of expressive white.

Memories of hurling myself up against walls in a clinic all those years ago came back. Something certainly had to be processed this way. It wanted out.

These ones are certainly making it to the #artofwithdrawal show that is planned for next year. ❤

 

 

 

 

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Lighting up Traces of Touch and Memories

Recently I have been playing and arting with my #tracingmyself process some more. I have been capturing touches and then boxing them up or sewing them into transparent lit up objects that conjure up all sorts of things, memories of the night, memories of the touch…memories…of…

 

 

I wonder what these boxes and objects evoke in you?

Let me know. For more pieces see my instagram profile.