You know, I was thinking how I got to this point in my artistic level. I certainly didn't get much help from my parents. I have always loved to draw and many teachers that I had as a kid saw the potential and urged me to continue. Then during high school, my art turned really dark. I mean really dark. I had beautiful female face cut in half. One side a beautiful girl and the other an ugly disfigured face. I had a drawing of a unborn baby growing inside of a tear drop about to fall into flames, hell. My high school art instructor let me express myself in these drawings but none of them could be displayed since there was a lot of nudity and questionable content.
Of course, I did a lot of regular art too. Santa during christmas, apples, pears for still life, etc. When I do apples, I do everything technically: proportion, balance, color theory, perspective. But I notice that I get totally into a zone when I would use my emotions as the driving force behind my art. I'm actually kind of afraid of doing that now. I didn't know then the ugliness right behind that memory wall. Since I"ve glimpsed it now, I don't know if it's wise to return to that mind zone state.
Under the advice of my therapist, she wanted me to paint PTSD and it's effect on me. That was a heart wrenching experience. I struggled to stay in control. I used a lot of black, and dark red. A dark box with blood pouring out of it spilling to the floor. Daggers hitting the box and in an open wound, a little glipse of my heart peeked through. Unfortunatly I can't show you the piece since it is now distroyed. After it was finished, I couldn't bear to look at it and I took a knife and tore at it in rage. It was a canvas painting...So it felt good to feel the fabric split. When it was shredded, I proceeded to break the frame, and threw it in the trash. I was so angry and tormented.
Ever since then, (it's only been two years since the painting was made), I haven't done anything that would retreat me into that place. It's hard for me to even paint the female body. I find that no matter how beautiful it is on the surface of the skin, I know the horrendous mutilation on the inside. All of the faces of my girls are sad, withdrawn, or just plain out of it. I feel that is the way I feel. People have told me over and over how beautiful I am, and I just could care less because I hurt so badly. Finally, and only recently, have I been able to see the beauty that resides, because bit by bit, with the help of this forum and my husband, I have been able to heal from the inside out.
My husband wants me to have a room all to myself devoted for painting. A room with three walls of windows. A four season porch kind of thing. Someday.... Hopefully by then, I'm able to use this ability again. Not just for my wellbeing but for the enjoyment of the viewer.
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