Adversity is a gift. It introduced me to therapy and began a vital dialogue with myself, journaling. My journal was my best friend and confidant for at least 15 years. Therapy was a lot like show and tell. I was manic, jumping from ecstasy to scary depression. When I was up, the paintings were dark. When I was down, they were either light or humorous. Once a week I would show up with five or six paintings and poems. I believe the work saved me. My therapist was just my witness. I loved the process.
I cried for 12 hours and then a switch went off. I felt incredible, brilliant and ridiculously optimistic. I painted this painting, capturing that beautiful optimism, before reversing corse to paint the darkness.