When I was 10 years old, I hand stitched a pair of shorts. I made the pattern using an older pair of shorts as my guide. I don’t know what prompted me to try. I don’t know what made me think I could. I simply picked up a leftover scrap of pink polyester fabric, laid it out under the old pair of shorts and started cutting.
It is the way I have always done things. Pick up a shovel and just start digging a garden. Take apart a sofa and see if it can be reupholstered to look new. Take an old piece of furniture or discarded piece of wood and turn it into something wonderful. This is how I taught myself to draw and paint. I picked up the pencil and simply started. I picked up the brush, dipped it into crimson and cerulean blue and glided it across the paper or canvas.
There is a beautiful thing that happens when you aren’t afraid to fail or make mistakes. You grow. You develop. You learn. I can’t remember a time that I wasn’t in the process of making something or creating something. I think all children are born with that ability. When you are a child, everything is possible. I never lost that belief.
At the age of thirteen, I had accepted that I was an artist of some kind. I didn’t know what kind. I just knew that I knew. The mediums I have worked with, the things that I have made have changed and evolved over the years. I am still learning. Every project, every piece of art teaches me something.
The most important thing I have learned is when I paint, when I am creating something, I feel kind. I feel love. I feel sacredness. I feel connection with something greater than I can articulate. Creating something, making something, makes me feel like a better person. It makes me feel.
I was born and raised in Windsor, Ontario Canada. I am a mother of three bright, hilarious and authentic children. My husband is an incredible human.
My life is rich with experience. Sometimes I feel like one of those large well-worn quilts. Some parts are bright without any fade. Other parts are a bit tattered with some loose thread here and there. A few places are well worn and have been patched to cover the places where the fibres have come apart. Yet it’s beautiful and tells a story of the last 50 years.
I am not a tortured artist at all. I am a happy artist.
I hope when you look at my work, you feel what I feel when I painted it. I hope it makes you feel light. I hope it reminds you that all things are possible. I hope it makes you feel love and kindness and connection.
I hope it makes you feel.