Why I Paint Faces

I love faces and really didn't give much thought as to why I was drawn to faces in my art until recently.

Growing up, I grew up with a mother who did not look at me.  I especially did not feel she looked at me  with love.

All my life I searched people's faces to determine whether I was loved or not, safe or not, could trust them or not.

The face became my doorway to connection.

Even to this day, affect is super important to me. If someone cannot look at me, then I cannot really feel them or see them from a felt sense and it is often difficult for me to trust them or feel open to them.

 The face is where I feel most connected to people.

It is the place where I can determine trust, where I can sense into who they are. I am sure that energy and body language is also a huge part of this, but I notice as a trauma survivor I scan faces unconsciously all the time. I can tell if someone is hurting, angry, sad, or if something is off, just by looking at their face. Sometimes people will claim not to be angry, but it is written all over their face. I can see the seething anger underneath the smile.

Faces also are a place of beauty for me and the wider eyes I use in my stylized faces are often open and inviting. They say I am here, see me, don't look away from me. Sometimes they draw you in.

And beyond the beauty of a face there is always an underlying power, grace, sadness, strength.  Even in the sadness there is beauty.

They are truly representations of the human experience.

100 Faces Update #9 42 - 46

Face 42 is in my sketchbook. She is the inspiration for the Angel Sister's painting. I made her so quickly and she ended up being one of my favorite sketches.

Face 43 is also in my sketchbook. I made her while watching the Bachelor at my local pizza shop in between commercials LOL!

#44

Another little cutie in my sketchbook, but this time with a bit of an attitude :) I have angels on the brain apparently! And I'm loving all these quickie sketches.

#45

This is a darker portrait than what I'm used to. I played with new materials to me, like charcoal with acrylic paint. I also used alcohol, stencils, sprays. It was a lot of fun. Her name is Serenity Within and I got a lot of help with the name from my friends on Facebook.

#46

This sassy face with lots of attitude is part of a painting called Ring Leader. I had so much fun with this as I pulled her out of the patterns in the paint. Pulling is so much fun! Look at the little hat on top of her head, that was totally just there!

100 Faces Update #8 #33-41

Welcome to update #8! Woohoo!

I have been a little busy bee trying to get ready for my show in the library.

Here are faces 33 - 41.

Both 33 and 34 are both part of the same painting, called Courage of the Heart.

This painting is available for purchase. There is also a video! Yayyyy!

I love this painting, it has such a beautiful mother energy to it.

Face 35 and 36

Both 35 and 36 were my attempts at creating a portrait of my friend Tony.  He started this movement of creating portraits for other artists and swapping portraits with them. I think number 36 looks a little more like him but 35 was a good attempt!

Face 36

Face 37 and 38 are part of a pair of angels.  They come together or sold separately, but I'd really love to keep them together! They are called Angel Sisters.

I had so much fun creating these.  I also love the co-creating with fans of my work. Someone said it would look cool if they were in front of a stained glass window, so I played with that and love how it came out.

Face 38

Face 39 is Gwen the Elf Girl. So magical and fun creating her. At first she was a bit too green and so I played with the pinks more.  Here is a before and after.

BEFORE

AFTER

Face 40 is a sketch in my sketch journal which I am trying to use more. Hoping to continue practicing my drawing skills.

Face 41 is this adorable little face on an oval piece of wood. She is a love goddess.

Fierce Roots

Lately I have words coming out of my mouth that I am not used to hearing, so I get a little curious and excited about them because I've never heard myself talk about myself in this way.

I think humility is so important and I never want to be considered cocky or braggy..in fact I love to celebrate successes because it is very healing for me to do so, not because I want to be better than anyone else, or show you how wonderful I am.

Gag.

I was brought up by someone who could not celebrate me, someone who did not see me or my gifts.

I don't remember ever being encouraged and in fact I felt put down most of my childhood. I won't even go into all the horrible things that were said to me. They were enough to have me shooting up in a dark alley, or babbling in a corner.

I really don't know how I lived through that and came out the human being I am today.

Today as a 45 year old woman, I choose to celebrate ME. I choose to own the gifts I have and the person I am.

It is my full circle healing journey of coming back to the truth of who I am and reclaiming the pieces of me that were lost in trauma.

It is important.

Just like the selfies that fly in the face being called ugly, the paintings that shake you and pull you in because of their power, just like the little celebratory posts on Facebook when someone shares a victory, a story of being touched by my art, or the posts where I share that I have sold a piece of artwork.

All part of the healing process for me.

Lately I can feel my confidence changing even more, elevating to a new level. 

A part of me fears this, I don't want to be considered "cocky, conceited" or any other negative word associated with being too big for your britches. I want people to like me not hate me of course...but, and this is big, I can only be me and I can't be responsible for how someone reacts to me or what story they make up in their head about me and why I do what I do. And that is a healing process too. Letting go of being the "good girl", trying to "get it right" all the time, and wanting "everyone to like me" but more importantly "dimming my light to make you more comfortable". It just ain't happening anymore. I can't be that person, because all that comes out of that is an unhappy, repressed, suppressed being who can't function in the world.

So here is a little victory.

I caught myself a few days ago, saying to someone (you know who you are), do you see how grounded I am? (HOLY cow, what did I just say?? How cocky did that sound?). But I felt that so strongly in that moment, I felt how grounded I was.  And guess what, just one day later in my core group, I did some work with someone who had to identify a big piece of me, a word that came to mind when she experiences my presence...yeah you guessed it. First words out of her mouth was grounded, then roots, then fierce.

We settled on Fierce Roots cause that feels really right and really true and kind of sexy.

Today, out of nowhere it seems, I was having a conversation with my friend, in which we were talking about what element we are. She said she was fire but admitted she may be operating like water. I said I am for sure fire and she said nooooooo, you are EARTH, 100 percent! In that moment, I remembered "fierce roots" and "grounded" and knew that I was seen so accurately in that moment. Another piece of healing for me..being seen, really being seen.

Am I grounded all the time? NOT. But yes one of my gifts is being grounded and keeping my center and being present to people. I love looking in people's eyes, and listening to them when they are present to themselves. I love being here and feeling my feet on the ground, really feeling myself and the weight and volume of my presence. I strive for that in all that I do.

I am still Fire but I am Earth too, I am grounded, I am roots, I am fierce, I am FIERCE ROOTS.

The Makeup Bag

I don't tell my story often or speak on specifics. Not because I am ashamed but often because I don't really feel it's necessary. I am a survivor of child abuse and sexual abuse. Anyone who truly knows me, knows this. I think the writing I did in 2007 in which I wrote my memoir My Voice of Truth: Distorted Beginnings, truly allowed me to recapture some of those memories and explore them from a different perspective than just the "wounded" perspective. I must confess that emotionally there is still work to do of course, but laying down my story in the 364 pages of my yet unpublished book truly allowed me to begin the process of releasing the shame and the feelings of powerlessness and begin to create a new identity. But first I had to explore what was created, in these memories. The false beliefs I uncovered.

I am thinking it may be time to publish it myself, not sure what that will entail but I wanted to share a chapter from the book with all of you. I want to practice being seen in this. I think part of the reason I kept this book tucked away is because of the very sensitive nature of it, and how exposing it truly is. So these feel like some safe steps to begin the process of being seen in trauma I experienced. At some point I will share one of my letters to one of my perpetrators, but for today here is a memory from childhood that was very painful for me. A loss of innocence and sense of play was taken from me on this day.

If you are in a fragile place, or afraid of being triggered, stop reading now.

Trigger warning

The Makeup Bag

At seven, I am a big girl now. We are visiting friends in “el campo” in Puerto Rico, a very rural part of the island.   I like it here.   There is a mama pig and her piglets out back and a German shepherd barking on the porch.  It is like a ranch and except for the creepy man who lives there and keeps looking at me funny, I am having fun.  

I tiptoe into the room where my mother sleeps.  My socked feet sneak across the floor, careful not to wake her.  The mission is clear; I know what I am looking for.  I spot the red and gold makeup case on top of the dresser.  I swipe it and hold against my chest. With the coveted bag in hand, I whisk myself across the room, leaving the faint whisper of my sliding feet behind.  I drag a chair into the bathroom and put the makeup bag in the sink.

I dig my hands in, looking for the pink shiny lipstick, the one I dream of.  

 I find it and paint my lips.

I go to the eyes next and curl my lashes black.

 I am pretty now. 

Next I dig for the blush, the last finishing touch.  I grab the brush and jab at my cheeks.  I think that’s how mommy does it.

 Now I am beautiful.

But mommy doesn’t think so as she stomps her way toward me, her rollers bouncing atop her head.  Before I can hide my offense, she smacks me hard.  It stuns me for a moment and I am unable to recover before more blows come.  She slaps my face, hands, arms and legs.   She claws at my arm until she has a good grip then reels me in closer to her face.  

She half screams this, half growls, “Who told you, you could touch my things, you don’t touch my things, you hear me. You don’t wear makeup.

I shuffle backward trying to escape her.  I am surprised by her anger, unaware of the severity of this infraction. 

I cry and cry until I can barely remember. I am hurt in so many ways beyond the slaps.  Pretty means punishment, Mommy hates me, I can never make her happy, I do not feel safe with Mommy.  I can’t predict her; I can’t even begin to understand her. 

I don’t even notice her walk away as I bury myself in the pain of having once again, disappointed her. It is painful to be a bad girl, painful not understanding what makes you bad or worse, what could ever possibly make you good again.  

Those days would mark the beginning of a new brand of motherhood.  For twenty years, I would struggle with the contradiction that was my mother.  How could she love me and hate me in the same breath?  How could she be so cutting and gentle within the same hour?

As children we cannot fathom that our parents are wrong and so we take the blame unto ourselves.  We make simple assumptions based on how we are treated and the things our loved ones say.  We even make meaning from the silence or absence of things like love, encouragement and praise.  We cannot reason that Mommy has a problem and that it is not our fault until much later on, if at all.  By that time, the beliefs are so ingrained into our sense of Self, it is often difficult to change them.  The following are some of the beliefs I created in those early years.

Beliefs/False Voices:

·      I am bad

·      I am unlovable.  (My mommy wouldn’t hurt me if she loved me, therefore she must not, and therefore I must be unlovable.)

·      I am insignificant.  (My mommy doesn’t really talk to me.  What I think and feel does not matter since I am never asked or acknowledged as a human being.)

·      Pretty isn’t a good thing.  (When I tried to look pretty, Mommy beat me.

·      I deserve punishment.  (If Mommy is punishing me I must deserve it, she cannot be wrong)

·      I am not good enough; nothing I ever do is good enough. (Despite my attempts at pleasing her and doing things in just the “right way”, she is always displeased. I am never good enough for her to love me and be happy with me.)

·      I have to be perfect or else something bad will happen.

·      I am undeserving of praise and encouragement (Since I don’t receive it and I see friends receiving praise and encouragement from their parents, I must not deserve it, or else I would be getting it.)

I am powerless (there is nothing I can do to stop any of what is happening to me, she is in complete control, she has all the power. I don’t have any or else I could make it stop)

100 Faces 29 -32

I had so much fun creating Face #29 and altering this quite hilarious holiday decor on wood. Here are some in progress pics. I just love the combo of reddish orange with turquoise! Swoon worthy for sure.  I used collage papers (monoprinted gelli papers, pattern paper) as well as gels and molding paste for the dress.

There is also a video for this one here!

Next up is Face 30 which was a Spirit Girl.  I am sharing all the in progress shots of this one in a separate post, The Making of a Spirit Girl.  Come read about how it all goes down.

Here is a photo of the finished product...deep love for this one.

Face #31 is also a Spirit Girl.

She is gorgeous and deep.

She definitely stretched me in ways I am still discovering.

I love how Spirit girls stretch me to try new things, to work with images I've never worked with before or colors I normally don't use. Not too many in progress pics for this one, but here she is. 

I went all in when making her and forgot to take photos!

We start with some color swatches I put together to send to the owner for approval.

Face #32 is another Spirit Girl.

I have so much making these. This beautiful woman had such lovely elements she wanted included and some came through that were not in our session. Love it when that happens. Here are some in progress shots.