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The Creativity of our Souls.
Choices, 18x24 in, watercolor
I have lived with chronic pain of all the sorts for over a decade, and nights are consumed with gnawing neuropathic pain with my back and leg from medical conditions. The night I painted this I was spinning with choices that I have made in the past and choices that plague me that I could have made or am able to make. Pain paced with me as I felt overwhelmed and restless to subdue it - and so I painted it. I will always be accountable for the unremitting choices that pain will bring, as do we all.
Unravelling, 18x24 in, watercolor
I had no intentions when I first began to paint, yet it unraveled itself. I painted what I felt: this feeling of being pulled apart, layer-by-layer; my past, present and future - all renewed by the Lord. All versions of self - dissected and reformed.
Empty Head: Past, Present, Future, 22x30 in, watercolor
The People of the World, 22x30 in, watercolor
Tranquility, 22x30 in, watercolor
Migraine, 18x24 in, watercolor
I painted this when I was undergoing a debilitating migraine. I rested all my energy into illustrating the feeling of melting with confusion and the inability to do everyday tasks because of it. I craved to evade and wander to the mountains with their plentiful woods and flowing creeks. And on June 1st of 2021, I had a migraine and wrote about this painting:
“Much has changed since I glued myself to a foldable lawn chair in the corner of the basement with a sheet of watercolor paper rested on my knees and two Cardinal bird painted lamps plugged to an electrical outlet adjacent to the house’s circuit breaker so I could have a supplementary source of light to accomplish my work. I yearned to be without people and all clangor – a place where I could have quietude to this frenzied instability within my brain. Generally, I do not regard remembering migraines, nor can I count them, but this migraine’s intolerable physicality memorialized it. I painted and prayed for relief and peace. I envisioned the pain liquefying away as my brain began to dissolve itself. Reflected sunlight off of hoods' of cars blinds me for minutes on end. The tinnitus in my ears amplified. My reality becomes nauseating with blaring bright lights and sounds, and I weep at this spinning world."
“Much has changed since I glued myself to a foldable lawn chair in the corner of the basement with a sheet of watercolor paper rested on my knees and two Cardinal bird painted lamps plugged to an electrical outlet adjacent to the house’s circuit breaker so I could have a supplementary source of light to accomplish my work. I yearned to be without people and all clangor – a place where I could have quietude to this frenzied instability within my brain. Generally, I do not regard remembering migraines, nor can I count them, but this migraine’s intolerable physicality memorialized it. I painted and prayed for relief and peace. I envisioned the pain liquefying away as my brain began to dissolve itself. Reflected sunlight off of hoods' of cars blinds me for minutes on end. The tinnitus in my ears amplified. My reality becomes nauseating with blaring bright lights and sounds, and I weep at this spinning world."
Two As One, 22x30 in, watercolor
watercolor
The Cross, 22x30 in, watercolor
When Lights are Too Bright
When Light are Too Bright
Migrainous Flowers
Melted Rose
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