Most people that I know did not recognize that I stopped making paintings while I was in art school.
My art work was open to criticism and scrutiny. I spent my college life defending my work and trying to shield myself from a harsh critique ( maybe it was my defensive mechanism ). What if I failed. How could I pick myself up? I was tired, exhausted, and lonely. No one talked about the failures. I couldn’t fully enjoy the creative process of art-making. And I did know if I could get compensated for the time and energy I spent on my work.
Theses are the photographs of my old artwork and old studio. As I look back, I am reminded that I need to stay close to my roots. They have become a fond memory now that I see the value. They have been forgotten so long. It was a part of me.
I can no longer lose the spark that makes me.