More About Messages
My Bound image whispers a list of the most powerful women today. Their names and titles become the textural pattern and fabric of a suggested dress of which the figure has left behind. The featureless body challenges the viewer to set aside judgment and to view self differently. The box shape implies containment and symbolizes imposed limitations. By breaking through the borders, the figure successfully begins to tear down those walls built to define our differences and to divide us as human beings.
Although women continue to be bound by gender, caste, creed, and nation, many have weakened or removed the ties to obtain leadership positions in industry, academe, and government. The Forbes’ list 100 Most Powerful Women underscores this advancement. It takes continual courage for women to face and lead themselves toward what truly inspires them. My hope is to inspire a new generation of women to move toward what is fully possible.
As a resident of California, I see only hints of our global distress. Agricultural lands lying fallow, earth surfaces sinking, and water rationing are constant reminders of the dismal health and state of our earth. This series, Waiting, speaks to the overwhelming passive response to confronting global warming. While many individuals seemingly acknowledge the record changes in climate, increase in oceans surface temperatures, and rise of sea levels, they continue to wait immobilized for change to occur.
In this series, the intentional use of empty white space is meant to be uncomfortable, as an awkward silence in a conversation. The imbalance and tension created, reflects the divergence of global warming. The typography plays a role within the narrative by revealing the distressing facts while rendering the objects at risk. The fading human figures remind us that we are predominantly made up of water and are in danger of losing our life source.
In Waiting for the Water to Rise, the umbrella is typically seen as a symbol for protection (as our government elect) but instead, it is presented as a source for a typographic barrage of our earth’s cries. Type falls like tears from the umbrella, parallel to a fading human form.
Sinking. Subsidence. is my contemporary version of Grant Wood’s American Gothic. It speaks of drought-induced sinking and the growing consumption of water-intensive goods. Unsustainable amounts of water are extracted from underground aquifers to irrigate crops and use for growing populations. With excessive extraction of groundwater, lands deflate and descend into mile-long unnoticeable sinkholes, often resulting in long-term permanent damage. The words are a running list of water-intensive goods and products with the largest water footprint.
If we continue to wait for change to occur, water will quickly become a precious resource of future conflicts and wars.
With life comes strings, limitations, or boundaries. We can embrace the possibilities or remain safely in place.
Both images speak to the struggle of choice and are examples of how image and words can play an equal role in the narrative. Symbolically in Safe Place, a self-reflective poem forms a solid typographic block visually expressing the heavy weight of the unknown the figure carries upon her shoulders. In contrast, the poem in Possibilities alludes to the positive inner voice that pushes the figure forward toward what is possible.
Safe Place expresses the private turmoil and conflict one experiences when you publicly agree with your place in this world but privately aspire to follow another path. The overwhelming social and media pressure, to comply and follow, immobilizes your voice for self and desires. Your personal conversation to conform or rebel, to be good or bad, to be accepted or rejected is a duel to the end.
Possibilities reveals the hidden rebel from within. It captures the self that shouts and demands the freedom to take a chance towards a private truth. It inspires the self, who embraces stumbles along the path, to accept the differences and see the possibilities.
Beyond Cancer Series
These three images were inspired by my mother. She died many years ago from a brain tumor. My experience during her illness was life changing. I painted my most vivid memories of that vulnerable time. Waiting Room captures one moment of many when you’re sitting and waiting in this strange room where time slows down and people come and go. In this room, I would remember my mother’s phrase, “Once a man twice a child.” I saw it in this room. Speechless reflects the frustration and torment of the unspoken when faced with a terminal illness. Full Circle reveals how we all must face the end alone as our life circle closes.
As I watch my days disappear in front of multiple screens, it is easy to feel I’m missing out…on something. Balancing between the natural and online worlds has become challenging. Many people experience moments of frustration when fusing technology into day-to-day life and living in a culture of personal sharing.
My three portraits Not Seen, Not Heard, and Not Spoken Of speak of the inequality and suffering present in the United States even though it is among the richest countries in all of history.
About one American in seven, approximately 43 million people, are living below poverty line. On any given night, near 600,000 Americans are homeless. It’s not just the unemployed that are homeless anymore, but the working poor who struggle to afford living anywhere in this country. Not seen. reveals how people have become so inured to the homeless that an individual sleeping on the sidewalk in a box with a makeshift blanket has all but become invisible. As the disparity and inequality between America’s rich and poor, most Americans are losing sight of the American Dream.
“I know words, I have the best words.” and “Nobody builds a wall better than me.”
Like a drama filled reality show gone bad, we continue to watch Donald Trump drown in his own “best words.” Our only hope is that he doesn’t pull us down with him. Every scene has been infused with his unscripted rants and overheated insults, daring someone to fight, in the interest of creating drama and ratings. Trump is not a politician but a salesman and a renegade of his own party. From the start of his campaign, Trump continues to wildly vacillate his positions and issues while attracting extremists of all kinds, flailing and sinking right before our eyes. United Artist! Exhibition, Charles Krause Art Gallery, Washington D.C. and Art Exhibit Review in Washington Post
The Bristlecone Pines are one of the oldest living trees on earth, more than 4,800 years old. I see them when backpacking above 10,000 ft. They remind us that struggles can be faced, survival is possible and hope is worth the fight.
Even in places of adversity, Through the Eye’s of a Child you will see joy, laughter, hope and trust. They inspire us to be present and to treasure the moments in-between.