In the last six months, I have embarked on a new direction in my art, in addition to the delightful Junk Drawers, with the discovery of fine-tipped paint pens. I went to my local art supply store looking for a marker that would not fade for piece I was working on. The very knowledgeable young lady at the till introduced me to paint pens. In working with them, a whole new world opened up to me, and wonderful things happened.
And a grand realization came to me. As I worked on these finely detailed pieces, I saw that when you look at them completed, they have a beauty, almost a perfection, but when you really study them up close, they are loaded with imperfections – if you can call them that – due to the fact that these pieces are all done by hand. A line touches where it wasn’t meant to touch, a blob of paint unexpectedly emerges from the tip of the pen, a wobble of the hand. The lines and dots are not precise. They have a human quality to them. Ahh, yes, a human quality. Each of us can very quickly point out all of our imperfections, but in truth, we are all perfect, exactly as we are, because if we were any different, we wouldn’t be who we are today, in this moment. Our sum total of imperfections makes us the perfect human being we are. We are perfectly imperfect.
I also realized that my work is something I would call ‘quietly intimate’. It is meant to be viewed up close rather that from afar. People are drawn into my work to see the detail, the little world created within each piece. I love that. It is very much a part of who I am. I’m not comfortable in a crowd of people, which must seem strange to many, seeing that I am a professional singer/songwriter who plays in public regularly. I am most comfortable with one-on-one conversations. So, in my work, I invite one-on-one relationship between the viewer and the piece. I find that interesting, to discover how much of myself is in my work.