At one point in the months leading up to this show, turning on the light in my garage felt like shining a light back in time. Faces freshly varnished, looking back at me, waiting for their next coat. The smell of fixative still in the air. This was my first solo show — celebratory and frightful all at once, an adventure I hadn’t taken before.
Seeing all my work together in the gallery is a powerful experience, much different than seeing pieces of it scattered across group shows. I could see for myself, honestly, how my work has progressed over the past year. The pieces talk to each other when they hang in the same room.
In many of them, I’ve hidden autobiographical components — small things that may not be noticed by anyone but me. I’m happy to have them stay hidden, and just as happy when someone finds one.
Making this series has also been a quiet exploration of my own thoughts about the privileges and limitations of being a woman. Not a thesis. More like a conversation I’ve been having with the women in my paintings, while I work.
There was an iterative cycle going on alongside the painting. I was working on portraits of indigenous figures while immigration raids flooded the news. The music in my studio kept circling around the same themes — social justice, declarations of belonging, celebrations of difference. The music shaped the work. The work shaped what I reached for next on the playlist.
Making art is a claiming of belonging. It is a claiming of space. I believe everyone is capable of that, but most of us are scared. We’ve been taught, in different ways, to keep our voices small. The clients I see in my work outside the studio have often been conditioned to stay silent — and punished when they weren’t. In some ways, my art speaks for them, as well as for me and for my ancestors.
This show could not have come together without the people who have believed in me, encouraged me, and guided me along the way. No single one of us stands alone.
The garage light is off for now. The next pieces are already gathering.
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