My Work in Places I’ve Been
Childhood
2340 Inwood Circle
Acrylic on Canvas
Size: 24”x24”
Two children, clad in floral print swimsuits, dance and play proudly in their driveway as their dad washes his 2-door Jeep that was soon traded in for a Honda due to family convenience. Nothing is threatening to them. They are not self conscious or shy – in fact, they are quick to soak up any sort of attention. They are absolutely beloved, and there is no need for impressive accomplishments or straight As or letters of recommendation. They are triumphant, proud to simply exist.
Why does this all have to change?
Motherhood
Oil Pastel on Paper
Size: 4”x6”
Somehow, she always knows what her children need. She speaks gently, listening to their wild imaginations and jumbled speech – they are not old enough to communicate their thoughts clearly, but she nods as if she understands; I think she does. She sets them down gently, pressing her lips to their soft heads, smiling with her eyes at little ones just like hers. She sacrifices her life, but receives the gift.
Hey Hey O, Playmate
Acrylic & Yarn on Canvas
Size: 30”x40”
Just across the park from our childhood home, Yaya’s playroom was a magical place. Growing up with brothers, this room often looked like Barbie dolls and Jabba the Hutt coexisting together peacefully (or not so much) in the dreamhouse, Disney Channel playing quietly in the background. Toys were always scattered everywhere, and no matter how often we each claimed we were “organizing the playroom,” each toy’s true place was just about anywhere, yet the chaos was comforting to our little minds in some odd way – this room never had to be picked up; it was just ours.
When our grandparents were the appointed babysitters, they would tuck us into bed to sleep until our parents came home. Being an anxious child, I required more attention than my two brothers, so either Yaya or Bapa would sit with me, rubbing my back gently as I drifted off to sleep, singing these words:
“Hey hey O playmate, come out and play with me
And bring your dollies three, climb up my apple tree
Slide down my rain barrel, and through my cellar door
And we’ll be jolly friends forevermore.”
Visions of rainbows and laughter and puppies always filled my mind. In these arms, I felt safe.
Do You Remember?
Acrylic on Mirror
Size: 27”x40”
There was a point in time in which you were simply yourself and delighted in being you. Perhaps you were adventurous, proud of the fact that you could climb a tree with no sign of trembling or hesitation. Maybe you were creative, constantly building or coloring, proudly pinning your portraits to the fridge, telling others you would become a celebrated artist. Maybe you simply loved your dog or your bike or your brother. You loved to swim, sing, slide, swing, or serenade your friend’s parents by her side, begging for permission to sleep over.
But there was also a point in time in which you began to wonder if you were good enough, if you had accomplished enough, or if you deserved to be loved. You abandoned your stories of heroism and adventure for narratives whispered from the lips of those who never really knew you or wanted to. Did you forget the version of yourself who is already so much more than enough? Do you remember the child sitting by the edge of the pool, or the girl reading quietly in her closet to her toys, or the boy gently collecting roly polies under rocks? Remind yourself of who you are.
Adolescence
Me & My Dog
Acrylic and Yarn on Canvas
Size: 30”x40”
I lost Mia when I was on the brink of 13, terrified of the creeping years that felt unfamiliar to me in every sense of the word. I came home expecting her to be sitting in her spot by the front door, her grayed face and big brown eyes gazing up at me as she weakly wagged her tail “hello,” but before I could even forbid her death, she was gone.
Loss is a funny thing, and the pain found in one’s first loss feels almost unbearable – how could anything hurt so much? Will I ever be okay again? Surely this absence will last forever.
But, at the same time, there is freedom in learning to let go. As flower pedals move from closed, gripping tightly in bud formation, to bursting forth, exposing themselves to the elements and an eventual death – beauty is often left unnoticed until the beholder is soon to be left behind.
The way I saw the world with Mia in it was different – filled with childhood memories and laughter. I used to place my little head on her stomach, matching my breath to hers, and I used to lean in, almost expecting her to one day open up her mouth and prove that animals really could talk – I, of course, would be appointed animal translator. I used to leave the door open when I cried, knowing she would swiftly come to my side, comforting me in her gentle, silent way. She was my perfect companion, and although much time has passed, she will never be forgotten by the three children whose lives were changed because of her.
Abstract
Acrylic and Yarn on Canvas
Size: 30”x30”
Bright colors and meaningless shapes – a signature of the girl I used to be.
Foods I Wouldn’t Eat in High School
Acrylic on Canvas
Size: 24”x36”
I used to believe beauty was something I had to earn with good decision making. Particularly when choosing which foods to eat, I found myself constantly fighting an internal dialogue of shame and self-disgust when choosing what or how much to eat. I told others I didn’t like candy or desserts, hoping nobody would ask too many questions. I believed that if I was restrictive enough, I would reach my desired outcome, but I was surrounded by a lot of emptiness and noise in this stage of life.
I didn’t realize how much these foods affected the way I viewed myself – success or failure – until just recently, and this piece was very difficult to share.
I am so thankful that the Lord has changed my heart and pulled me from this destructive mindset since my teenage years, reminding me of the truth – beauty is so far from external. Many of the people I find most beautiful in the world are stunning because of who they are – funny, gracious, kind, joyful, creative – these things have nothing to do with the external shell. With this being said, it is important to take care of our bodies and properly fuel ourselves, but I also want to recognize that food or beauty or weight or anything external should hold no power when measured against my soul. Although I sometimes feel little twinges of shame every once
Young Adulthood
Dogpile
Acrylic on Canvas
Size: 16”16”
A storm of laughter and energy bursts forth from the car, their items thrown into a frenzied pile as they rush together through the newly cut grass, spinning and pointing to the blue mountains in the near distance. The air was crisp, and something about this place, although unfamiliar to me, felt oddly safe.
In My Head
Acrylic on Canvas
Size: 22”x28”
Somewhere along the way, I felt as though I lost myself. My mind was lost in a whirlwind of questions, comparisons, and memories – “Where did I go wrong?” Everything I thought I knew felt skewed, the air felt thin, and I wondered if I would ever be able to escape the trenches of the darkness I had somehow curated.
But, friends, the light was at the end of the tunnel, although this tunnel was longer and darker than any I had experienced. My mind no longer feels like a prison, but my thoughts are quiet, peaceful, and gentle. Time spent alone can feel like a hiatus, not a punishment. I am free once again.
Turning 20
Oil Pastel on Paper
Size: 18”x24”
Birthdays have always been a series of bittersweet feelings for me – I feel cherished and celebrated by those who love me well, but I am also alarmingly aware of the passing of time and the quickening loss of seasons as they fly by. When I turned 20, I felt suddenly small and weak while the future felt chilling, jarring, and unknown. I was struck by the painful realization that my childhood self was completely and irrevocably lost, although upon further reflection, I can never truly lose her.