Painting is an open door for me. I think what i want, and I feel anything as I please: beautiful or not, understood or not. I trust art in the way some people trust religion. I recently read an interview of Viola Davis in The New Yorker. She talked about studying in Gambia, and how there she saw how art was not separated from life. "It wasn't about technique; it was about the soul. In their zest for life, their need to connect to each other and to God, everything they did was done with extreme passion."
I get seduced by my work. The seduction sends me back to feelings of nakedness and honesty. I have no other choice but to catch myself. Catch each emotion, each every color: desperation, anger, ugliness, loneliness, fear, worry, pretending, doubt, sadness, hardness, longing, love, laughter, calm, warmth, faith, joy, mysticism, light, beauty, hope, spirit and God.
When I was a little girl, my Dad and I colored a lot. I had several coloring books: Tom and Jerry or The Flintstones. He and I would spend time tracing the outside lines dark and hard. Then we'd shade the shapes very smooth, easy and light. I think those were some of the best times of my childhood. Those moments were almost as good as going to Sunday school and church. Sometimes I colored alone. I still remember pressing hard on those lines— (hindsight: me, pressing hard, so afraid of the violence and addictions, being left alone; coloring the shapes softly for the other times when home was filled with 'making up and kisses).
My desire to make art came out of those moments, and what still inspires me to make art is that constant and nagging desire to be naked, uninhibited and honest.