Art is the looking glass I've seen the world through for as long as I can remember.
If you've read previous entries, you know there was a very distinct moment I decided to "take art seriously" that I can point to in my life. But even before that point, I have several memories of creative projects that I used to interpret the much larger external world around me while simultaneously dissecting and expressing the personal world inside me.
The most consistent feeling I have had, through and beyond childhood, has been a distinct lack of ability to truly explain how I see and experience the world. At first, it was most notable in my vocabulary; in adulthood, I've found myself in a season of struggle to accurately express it visually.
That's why I continue to make art. It's the tool that was most readily available to me, and can be studied and developed as a skill to better accommodate an ever-expanding perspective.
As I pursue my passion, I hope to bridge the divide between what is possible with my hands and what I envision in my head.
I long to capture the feeling of what are often overlooked moments, and magnify them, crystallize them, in a permanent existence—to be observed and sat with over time.
I hope to create vignettes into moments that you can come back to and notice something new months later. Perhaps have a new interpretation or appreciation with the time that has passed.
It all feels vague and incredibly ambitious, but for so long I've used art as my looking glass inward. Now, I've realized I want to invite others to sit with me; I want others to see how I see.
And at the end of the day, all I can hope for is that my work serves as, at least, a fragment of your own looking glass. All of my collectors so far have seen something that inspired their collection, and with every piece I part with, I am honored to have a work that shares in your personal world.
Sincerely,
M.E.