I am primarily a painter working on canvas and paper. Most of my work is abstract and fairly large. However, through a series of unfortunate events these last two years, I found myself without a studio, caring for my ailing mother. Although I've always had sketchbooks, the sketchbooks I started keeping during this time became my only outlet for my art. They are also quite different than my paintings. I began filling these books rather compulsively every day during or after wading through long hours at the hospital or watching tv late at night. Sometimes I was barely looking at the page and the more I did it, the more I determined my favorite drawings came from the space of 'no thought'. Make a mark and follow the line. Now, that's not that different from how I paint but these intricate drawing are in no way like my paintings. They are funny creatures, rather joyful, despite the agonizing time I was going through. I didn't show anyone these books, except my husband, after I had finished five of them. When I found out about your project I decided I wanted to share my fanciful journey. I'm only sorry that I didn't see that I could rebind the book with different paper until I was almost finished. I much prefer a heavier water color paper. Still, I also liked staying within what I thought were the perimeters of the project.
Exploring the unconscious is what drives my work. I like mystery. But as I've done these sketchbooks, I've discovered how art saves my life everyday and sometimes expresses an elfin joy that is irrepressible even in the most difficult of times.
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