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It
was a hot, clear morning that produced a mirage allowing one to
see grain elevators 130 miles away and save for the curve of the
earth, one could perhaps see forever. I was sitting with my grandpa
on the tailgate of dad's pickup. Grandpa got tired of my questions
I suppose. He stuck a finger in the little pocket on the bib of
his overalls and pulled out a stubby pencil, square rather than
pointed on the end from being sharpened with a pocket knife. He
tore the flap off a carton for a tractor oil filter and drew a square.
Then he drew another on top of it but not aligned. He then showed
me how to cause the two squares to become a box by connecting the
corners with lines. Even at four years old this exercise was intensely
exciting to me. Three dimensional illusion from a few lines was
wonderful new information. It was relevant to my view of the world.
I never saw much art as a child (art galleries in Western Kansas
were far and few between) but I was fervently motivated by color
and drawn like a magnet to pencils, paper and crayons.
My mind works
in such a way that I can compartmentalize and lock away for safe
keeping impressions and images, problems and solutions. I think
I became an artist, not to draw or "create" so to speak but to define
a space wherein I could comprehend and define the problems and manage
what so ever occurred therein. The canvas is a safe haven, a place
where I can lock in cause and effect.
I've learned
a couple of things as an artist. One is to never hold your brush
in your mouth as you might a pencil. The turps burns the corners
of your mouth. The other is that the single most redeeming quality
to be developed is humility and the one to be avoided at all costs
is self pity.
In what other
occupation does the value of your product increase when you die?
Also in the arts more than any other profession, skin color matters.
Art creeps so close to the soul that artisans themselves have assigned
deep meaning to ethnic origins. Being a white woman who paints people
of ethnic origins different than my own, I have had to reach deep
into the bone and marrow of culture to find the common sinew that
binds us all.
Most artists
learn in time to steel themselves against "How long did it take
you to do that?" Even though it is probably not the meaning intended,
what we fear in that comment is that the depth of the work has been
eclipsed by the effort put into it. The one I really hate is "Well,
just so long as you enjoy what you're doing, that's all that matters."
Can you imagine saying that to a teacher, an electrician or a concert
pianist? There are days when none of the above are fun but because
they are important jobs, we all understand there is a higher purpose;
overall.
I aspire to
a higher purpose. The world is full of disgusting, repulsive and
offending images. There is no shortage of illusions and living examples
of those things that degrade humankind. The body, soul and spirit
of man is under constant attack, in a struggle. I want to bring
into being images that encourage the soul and uplift the spirit,
that speak of faith, hope and love. I'm not interested in illustrating
despair.
I am grateful
to live in Belize. I love the people and the traditions. This country
has provided me with endless subjects to paint. I praise God for
affording me the skills to be an artist. I am thankful for all the
friends and supporters of my art. Thank you people of Belize for
sharing your country with me.
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