Six years ago, I was a visual artist. It was one of the few areas in my life that didn’t have success metrics. I didn’t compete. I just did. To this day, I still find painting and collage making one of the most relaxing activities to engage in.
I was going through my gigabytes of photographs recently, and discovered a couple of the images from my senior art show. They’re not slide quality, but they give you an idea of the kind of work I was doing.
This piece, In Utero, started out as the sketch of a lamp.
I have never managed to title this one. Six years and it stubbornly refuses a name. Since naming things is one of my favorite parts of being a writer, this perplexes me. Its sister piece was called “Die Schokolade ist Alle”, and was a commentary on the devastation of WWII. It was mostly wreckage and explosions rising from tea and coffee cups.
This next one is “Love in Plaid”. I have nothing more clever to say about it. It just wanted to be made.