Not Again Youth T-Shirt

Searching for a way to express my anguish over the tragedy of the brutal death of George Floyd and to process the fear that grips me when I think of my four black grandsons and how vulnerable they are to racial profiling and abuse of power by police, I began to meditate on color as it pertains to inks, my preferred medium, which resulted in experimentation in puddles of intense hues which flowed into and around one another.

Not even realizing what was happening on the page as I was creating it, I gasped when I thought of the pain and suffering, fear and loss of black families past and present. God in Heaven, have mercy.

Not all art should be ‘pretty;’ many songs are sad. Art is a language without words, beating a tempo and signifying emotion. There is something visceral and raw here. Do you see the fear? Can you glimpse the pain, even for a moment?

I've been painting since I was nine years old when my mother put a brush in my hand and said, "This is how you do it." I must have been a good listener. My career as a a painter has come in waves, however. It has taken me a lifetime, but I am now a full-time painter. A few years ago I challenged myself to do a painting a day; hence, the eye paintings. I recently lost my husband of 47 years. As part of my bereavement, I visited my artist/sister, KC Pollak, in Colorado. We spent nearly all day for 10 days in her art cabin making alcohol ink paintings. What a joyful, healing time! And I found a new love and passion. Now I live my work and love my life even more.