Telling Stories…

Doing art, Painting, sketching, story, has owned my heart for as long as I can remember.  I think all children have the seeds of art in their souls.  Some are never encouraged to imagine deeply or to recognize the value of their own thoughts.   My own art is a reflection of the relationships, and experiences I have been given. In my work there is a story of a little girl who grew up on the South Dakota prairie.  I have heard it said artists are driven by their own search for “meaning”.  I don’t know if this is true for every artist.  It is certainly true for me. I look closely at my memories, to define their significance.  I love conversations when they carry in them some form of real meaning.  I love movies and books and poetry, which transmit some truth of the mystery we all live in.
The first time I saw a Van Gogh original painting, I was at the National Gallery of Art in Washington D.C.  My reaction to it was instantaneous. I saw the artist’s “Little Peasant Girl”, and with my heart I felt a little bit, I think, of what Van Gogh felt for her.  Her life, her courage, her hope was in his rendition of her image.  I began to cry, unselfconsciously, in the center of the room, in front of his painting.  This experience is now part of my history. In one moment, I submitted to Van Gogh’s amazing ability to tell the little peasant girl’s story. I understood a little of what he felt as he painted her.  He told her story with color, with the expression on her face, with his brush strokes.  It is my own desire to tell stories in this way.  This is for me, a life worth living .