Visions of Self 2024 – Awards

I feel a shift within me
A fire is burning
I am rising from these ashes
I am shining
I am beaming
I am rising from these ashes
I am breaking
Through all of the darkness
I am finally breaking through

Nyctinasty is the movement of plants in response to the onset of darkness, as they “go to sleep”- the closing of their petals and leaves. This is a self portrait based on a small closet in the laboratory where I spend my days, which includes a shelf full of precious botanical specimens. I greet them in the morning, and I tuck them in at night. It is the place that brings me the most peace. Sometimes I imagine what it would be like to live my entire life on that shelf, under warm fuchsia grow lights, receiving delicate and loving care every day, closing up my petals in the evenings when the darkness comes.

This painting is a self portrait of peace in isolation. In loneliness, you’re surrounded by yourself; your thoughts, feelings, and emotions can become intense– whizzing around your mind in a cacophony of angst, stress, and unease. And then suddenly, randomly, you reach a point of clarity, of relief, where the light hits you just right and you’re flipped on your head, feeling almost glad to be alone. It’s a relaxing feeling to be at peace within yourself.

It was a very mundane Tuesday, but everything was happening all at once. I was weighed down, untethered, and unhinged; wasn’t where I wanted to be, what I wanted to be, or who I wanted to be. It felt like a good time to peel it all off and start anew.

In this piece, I conformed my own body to fit the dimensions of the canvas. I used this idea of “fitting into a box” to symbolize my feeling of being constricted by my gender. Women are forced by society to conform to unrealistic expectations, take on the burdens of others, and please. This unjust pressure makes me feel trapped, uncomfortable, and claustrophobic. To create this feeling I used expressive brush strokes, exaggerated perspective, and an uncomfortable composition. To give a viewer a feeling of tight constriction.

Tarot Cards have been around for centuries. They are perceived as mystical, magic, evil, or a glimpse into the future. But what they really are is a mirror. As a reader of the cards, I’ve come to understand Tarot is a reflection of self. In this reading, I hold up the Magician, the Empress, and the Sun cards. The Magician tells us that what is above, so it is below, or what is perceived can be manifested. The Empress is taking those thoughts and ideas from inspiration or perception, and births them into the physical realm. Then Sun card is the promise of anything perceived, can be attained. The black cat has also been given a bad rap. She is my familiar and balances the Yin and Yang of this painting opposite the white ritual candle. The knot in the tree that looks like an owl’s face actually exists, and thus owl is part of my medicine. Owl helps see the way through darkness, as does the Tarot. The cloth is one I machine embroidered forty years ago, and use with every reading. It is black to reflect light, like diamonds against black velvet. The Zodiac represents aspects and influences. May light guide your path always!

Inspired by my journey through the covid period & self discovery of why I’ve felt different my whole life,this painting depicts the strength that comes from within a mother, especially one that is living in a Neuro diverse body but a neuro typical surrounding.The refraction through water, multiple canvases, & the square boxes within the painting represent my struggles with every day life.From simply dealing with my daily emotional dysregulation, to the ongoing anxiety where I feel like I’m only just keeping above water whilst trying to keep everything together and present my life as if I’M OK.

Alexithymia, or the “inability to articulate emotions,” also known as emotional blindness – prevents introspection to acknowledge emotions. To address emotional blindness, we must engage in external reflection and analysis. This process may sometimes lead to endless rumination and a sense of alienation as it places you as perpetual outsider to your own emotions. How do we then separate the internal and external aspects of our bodies and selves, especially when emotions are triggered by external forces? It prompts us to consider what defines the liminal space, the threshold between the internal and external, of our bodies and the physical world around us. The physical world around us mirrors our internal landscape, as I perceive it as reflections of the world within me. Though words may sometimes fail to express my emotions, I find that it’s through these physical elements that I can most genuinely describe how I feel—the crevices, constructions, and the light filtering through curtains that surround me.

The Journey is a visual chronicle spanning from 2018 to 2023, capturing moments in the Pacific Northwest on the Oregon Coast, within my family’s wooded sanctuary, and amid the flourishing life of my garden and yard. Initially, these vignettes were spontaneous captures, fragments of time that resonated with personal significance.As I revisit and compile these clips in 2023, a narrative unfolds—unplanned yet deeply profound. The Journey now encapsulates my voyage of healing, a tapestry woven from nature’s wisdom and the evolution of my own understanding. Each frame is a testament to the therapeutic dialogue between myself and the natural world, a silent exchange that has been both witness and catalyst to transformation.

The deliberate choice of a square format for “The Journey” serves as a visual metaphor, providing a unique perspective on the narrative within. Unlike traditional rectangular frames, the square format invites a focused and intimate viewing experience, directing attention to the essence of each moment captured. The square, inherently balanced and symmetrical, acts as a harmonious container for the diverse snippets of nature’s wisdom and personal reflections.

In this video, I invite the viewer to traverse landscapes that mirror my own inner terrain, witness the dance of woodland giants, and listen to the whispers carried by the wind. The Journey is a mosaic of moments, a visual poem documenting the beauty found in simplicity, the therapeutic balm of nature, and the ever-unfolding path of self-discovery.

I am getting angry more and more. A contemporary woman lasts in a permanent conflict – inner – with herself and outer – striving to meet the requirements imposed on her by society.

As a child, I was always being told to hush up, quiet down, or I would scare the boys away