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One sultry afternoon I discovered an urban renewal project that would change my life and direct me to become the artist of my childhood dreams.
One of the spruced-up prewar bungalows became my home for 14 years. It sat directly across from a skyscraper sized hole that would become the Menil Museum. When complete, it housed more than 17,000 works of art. Magritte, Ernst, Tanning, Leger, Warhol, Matisse, Picasso, Tanguy, Rauschenberg, Twombly, Rothko, Walker, and scores of other 20th century modernists became my immediate neighbors.
Priceless antiquities of the ancient world inhabited galleries alongside the works of surrealists and cubists. A world-class art museum at my doorstep I could visit anytime and it was free!
Access to the work of artists who documented the astounding changes of the twentieth century fundamentally changed me. In this self portrait, I fly through the louvered walkway surrounding the museum, intent on finding my way.
When I first moved to Sedona, this is what I looked like:
I was a broken woman, crooked as a fairytale granny, but determined to change all that.
Fresh air, high desert skies, clean water—that’s the medicine, the treatment. I lived a less stressful life within the red rock walls. Here I found my voice, my perspective.
Like the early surrealists (some who lived and worked in Sedona), my work explores memories, imagining, and dreams. Sex, death, and the human condition are always on my mind. I think those topics will keep me busy for however long I have left.
My work is often confrontational; the human body and body parts show up regularly, as do symbols. I am an avid revisionist and unhesitatingly appropriate images from art, history, and popular culture. I employ symbols, visual puns, repetition, transparency and scale change in composition. I tear symbols away from their original context, forcing the viewer into the “savage state” of the eye. What is left is more primal in nature, a way of seeing enhanced by the underlying workings of the mind.
Created from the female gaze, this self-portrait shows my visit to Marie Antoinette. She, so apt at convincing folks the “sizzle” was steak, would appreciate an honest reveal. Beneath the ballgown, aging sex organs are festooned with all manner of ailments.
What do I ask of the practice of art? That it challenges, that it pushes me intellectually and emotionally. Using photography, digital and manual manipulation, specialty paper, and a multitude of wet and dry mark making mediums leads to lush, sensuous images that initially charm.
It does not take long however for meaning to surface, and wind through the unconscious, inviting a second and third look.
In this birdwoman self-portrait, the opportunity to explore transmutation is easier when the muse is the inner being. I appreciate the value of experimenting in life and work, knowing full well that it leads to failure and success.