Introduced to the arts while growing up in Kernersville, NC, I fine-tuned my live-drawing skills and conceptual formations while attending Barnard College in New York City.  I started with realistic portraits, which turned more and more surreal and cerebral, until I was shredding journals, making rag dolls, and using an X-Acto knife as a paintbrush.  Currently, my artwork, which includes a combination of etched cardboard, music lyrics, journal entries, embroidery, translucent oil painting, and charcoal drawing, flirts with my reflections on relationships and independence.

While each piece contains formal experimentation, I have found that artistic power comes from the little part of my soul, of my experiences, of my heart that I dump into my work in order for me to analyze myself.  I have always been fascinated by how we develop an idealized sense of ourselves as unique, independent individuals while still being utterly dependent on our relationships with other people.  How do we differentiate between our treatment of other people and how we treat ourselves?

Art functions as my filter for evaluating how my brain processes.  My bodies of work have focused on specific issues that shaped my worldview: how racial divisions impacted my parents and my upbringing, how my attempts to control my life led to a precarious control of my meals, how broken relationships forced me to close off myself in the name of “independence”, how feelings of failure during a divorce drove me to self-destructive decisions.   A few years ago, I focused on external factors and events, but during a series of life-changing moves/heartbreaks, my focus has become more internal.  I imagine that my work will continue to focus on that internal struggle for at least the next year.

SAIC’s broad spectrum of painting philosophies will give me the freedom to continue to introduce a variety of media and techniques into my practice while still mining my brain for new levels of dysfunction.  Experimentation and improvisation are foundational to my image-making; the energy of Chicago will give me new inspiration, and the conceptual rigor will challenge me to refine my tell-tale style and perspective.

Everything is finalized December 8th.  Got a note today, which lead to a knot in my stomach.

How did all go so wrong?

I was the villain.  I stay busy so I don’t have to face it.  My whole life is different now.  Completely new sets of friends.  New apartment.  New job.  New priorities.  Am I new person as well?  Does my past reset?  It is the past, after all.  Does it have to affect my present?

That relationship changed me.  Shaped me at a pivotal time of growth in my life.  He will always be a part of me, for good and for bad.  At times, I miss that relationship.  Miss that I knew what to expect.  Miss the consistency.

But then again, I don’t recognize the person I was a year ago.  Don’t know how to relate to her.  Don’t know how to understand her decisions.  All I see is desperation and confusion radiating off her in waves.

While I am confused now — grad school, job worries, new-relationship jitters — I feel more sure of myself.  Confident that I can handle the roadblocks life deals out.  Perhaps my confidence is a self-preservation delusion.  But it’s working as of now.

I want to live on the South Side so badly so that I can meet people like this.

A great time!  Saw some touristy things — Millenium Park, Willis Tower, Navy Pier, Michigan Avenue.

Did a dangerous thing — went to Cottage Grove to see the Confederate Mound.

Did some “local” things — went to the Art Institute, two Irish pubs, a speakeasy, and a gay bar.

Ate lots of delicious food — soup, Thai, Chicago deep dish pizza, authentic Mexican, and brunch.

Slept.  Ran.  Walked.  Saw Julia and hugged her a lot.  And most importantly, didn’t go to work and thought about graduate school plans.

Life has settled into consistency.  Work at Dun & Bradstreet, come home to workout and make dinner, teach fitness classes two mornings a week, see the family and friends three nights during the week, and spend the weekends with the new beau.

All sorts of emotions bubble up when I least expect them regarding vulnerability/trust/guilt/regret.  Torn between feeling regret over my disregard for consequences this summer.  And yet still somewhat proud of myself for letting go of my inhibitions and allowing myself a short span of careless living.  An “immaturity” I had never allowed myself before.

Falling in love again, though… That has been an overwhelmingly joyous experience.  He is gentle; he is steadfast; he is social and lively; he is beautiful; he is creative; he is driven.  He is everything I wanted but didn’t hope could exist in one person.  So naturally, I feel like running for the hills every other day or so.

Worried that it’s too soon.  Worried that I’m not ready.  Worried that I’ll destroy another relationship.  Worried that I will crumble and won’t ever try again.  Don’t know how to trust another man with my heart, my mistakes, my flaws, my failures, my fears, my insecurities, my hopes, my ambitions…  Don’t know how to allow myself to connect to someone enough for them to be able to leave me and hurt me.  Finding that the facades and mazes I took the last few months constructing between my inner self and others aren’t as protective as I was hoping.

Leave next week for Chicago to spend four days with Julia.  Yay for no work, yay for new city, yay for walking until my feet ache.

Part of the Chicago trip is to check out Art Institute and grad school programs.  Talked to my dad a couple of weeks ago about my decisions.  Four schools at the moment — SCAD, UT Austin, Art Institute of Chicago, and University of Cape Town.  His opinion is that I bust my butt to get to Cape Town, especially after my Fulbright heartbreak.  My only hesitation is that I have been so happy being close to my parents and siblings.  I like being able to help out when needed.  And my life is slowly easing into a pleasant routine.  But, again, my dad knows my curiosity and my traveler-nature.  He said, “I don’t want you to wake up in six years at 29, with a kid and another husband, and say, ‘Shit, what have I been doing?’”  After five years of settling, I woke up and said, “Shit, what have I been doing?”  So avoiding that feeling again is definitely going to be a driving factor in my decisions.

South Africa has been calling me for so long.  The opportunity to work with Jane Alexander and Berni Searle.  Those ladies have completely changed how I view my capacity as an artist and motivated me to maintain a social-activism component to my conceptualization.  I just hope that everything is a Samuel Fosso photograph, just like Janet Jackson sees it:

Oh, and Chris Thile will be in Carrboro on Nov 7th.  I hope everyone is ready for him to run away with me.

And I’ll post photos of my new pieces soon.  Three new series in the works.

I’m finding this new schedule is AWESOME.  I get up in the morning, shower, clean, pack lunch, etc.  Then I go for a run at lunch time.  Then after work I can make a nice dinner, hang out with friends, read, work around the house, work out more…  And I’m not too tired at the end of my day.

Went to see “Eat, Pray, Love” with some girl friends last night.  Cried some (especially at the wedding/divorce parts).  The movie was only okay (Julia Roberts was less than impressive, Javier Bardem phones in his performance, and James Franco just plays himself), but it was nice to be reminded of what I loved about the book.   When taken as a “female empowerment” cliche, the book and the movie can be viewed as so incredibly cheesy.  And part of me bristles when women gush about how much they just looooved the book.

To me, the experience of reading that book was intensely personal.  I wouldn’t really talk about it with anyone.  No one will ever get to read my copy because the margins are torn up with notes.  She was talking about MY divorce, MY fears, MY insecurities, MY heartbreak, MY Italy, MY meditation, MY self-acceptance.  To me the book wasn’t about a general way to Love or to Pray or a cliched new-age-y “quest”.  It wasn’t about selfishness, like a lot of the critics have been bashing it for.  Granted, she totally glosses over the ridiculous perks of being a WASPy writer with a book advance which gave her the chance to take such a trip.  However, to me, Gilbert’s true insight was in her discussions about healing and discovering oneself after the intense self-destruction of divorce.  There is power in learning how to forgive yourself for making mistakes that you thought were the right decision at the time.  Every description of how she felt during her divorce were so spot on for how I have been feeling for years.  I don’t understand how anyone who hasn’t been through a divorce could say that the way she reacted was or wasn’t appropriate.  But it doesn’t make the intense self-excavation and reinvention after divorce any less poignant or necessary.  And some of the things she discusses/did have been encouraging for me as I try to figure out how to be happy/forgive myself.  And accepting that it is OKAY for me to be as happy as I am right now.

And by God, I am SO HAPPY!  I love my new apartment.  I love the vibe of downtown Greensboro.  I really like this new job.  I love my friends.  I love spending time with whom I want, when I want.  I love that traveling is no longer a far off goal, but something I could start as soon as October (Will wants me to come see him in Amsterdam, and Abby is moving to Ireland in September).  My Italy might not be such a distant dream.

Ah, this made my morning.  I have decided I am going to make every moment a choreographed dance.  With a background of flashing lights.

Frustrated having to scrape by on a sparse budget.  Can’t wait to have this new job so I can get internet set up at the apartment.  Still want to paint and have a lot of smaller purchases for the kitchen/etc.  Trying to be patient.  I’m just not good at that.

Today was Mom’s 50th birthday.  Spent time at the farm with the extended family.  Sitting in Raleigh at a McDonald’s because I don’t really want to go back to my apartment.  It’s hot out.  I’m pensive.

Switching jobs.  Just moved into a new apartment.  I am cat-sitting a kitten that likes to wake me up every hour by kneading my throat or shoulder.  Pretty boys buying my drinks.  Big things all around.

The new job is going to be at a desk, which makes me nervous.  B&N has fed my love of meeting new people.  But I decided it is 100% worth the likely boredom to be able to set myself up financially for the next few years.  I will make enough in a year to live comfortably, pay off credit card debt and student loans, and save up money to take a nice long trip around Europe, and then still have enough to support myself for the first part of grad school.  My sanity is going to be chained to the certainty that I will quit next July and travel before heading to a grad program.  Just don’t think I can be the corporate lackey.  But the sales training is going to set me up to do whatever in the heck I want.  My district manager at B&N told me that I should pursue my sales talent and go into high end sales — pharmaceuticals, real estate, technology.  I never really saw myself going into sales.  But who the heck cares right now?  I am going to take this job and apply to grad school.  That’s all I have to know right now.  I am so terrible about trying to plan waaaaay too far into the future.

Even though I have my own apartment now, I am alone rarely.  Always friends to see, places to go.  I am only really alone when I climb into bed and when I do my routine in the morning to get ready for the day.  Don’t know if I am subconsciously avoiding my apartment or just that much of a social butterfly.  I still get plenty of time to contemplate on my runs.

Luckily the half-marathon training is going pretty well.  I need to quit eating so much junk food, but the runs have been soothing and fairly relaxed.  Only ended up in a sketchy part of town once.

Living in the poorer part of town has been so nice.  Going for my runs in the morning, it almost feels like I am back in Harlem.  Almost.  I was asked if I had known that I was going to be taking a much better paying job whether I would have waited and gotten a different apartment.  I really don’t think I would have.  Yuppier parts of town tend to make me a little uncomfortable.  I want this to be my new ringtone:

Need to buckle down in the studio.  A new friend is helping me build a better website for my grad school portfolio.  I just need to start churning out work.  Those deadlines are fast approaching.  Austin is looking really good right now.  Thinking of applying there, Columbia, University of Cape Town, and a yet-to-be-determined program in Italy.  Casting a wide net.

Divorce papers officially filed.  JMel wants to plan a “happy divorce” party in November.

Living closer to work means that I don’t get as much of a daily dose of music.  But drove a lot this weekend and overdosed on rocking out.  Tiger JK rapping about how quickly life flies by, how fast we change, how we lose and gain, how life ebbs and flows:

What a dreamy day-off-afternoon.  Sunshine, birthday party, friends, pool, tiny string bikini, sundress, bagel bites, hip-hop, movie, nap.

When Marcus left town and agreed to give me the divorce, a giant weight lifted from my chest.  Was able to tell him, “No.”  Able to make the decision for myself, for my life, for my future.  Stayed strong.  Felt powerful and sexy and confident for the first time in years.  Those first few days were deliriously giddy.

Had a weird couple of days at work this week.  Feeling a little lonely.  It’s strange to be free from Marcus in a lot of ways, and yet still feel like that relationship has defined my life.  Still feeling how strange it is to stretch my wings on my own.

He was the King of Everything for so long.  Trying not to go overboard with being the queen of my own little world.  Trying to lean on other people still without feeling like I have to have a relationship to function.  Sheri gave me a beautiful bit of advice.  That no matter how much this has hurt, no matter how jaded I am in regards to relationships, if another one comes my way I CAN’T bring this experience into it.  I have to keep an open heart.  Push negative images/anxieties/worries out of my brain.  It’ll be hard not to run screaming at any similarities.

Watching my best friend fall in love has been bittersweet.  I am overjoyed for her.  The boy is a good one.  But can’t help but wonder if I will ever be able to feel that way again.  A couple of boys have weirdly thrown themselves at me, but it doesn’t make me feel better.  Am I just damaged goods now?  That over-the-top-carefree-no-holds-barred feeling is one of the best parts of being human.  I know it’s too soon to be concerning myself with this crap.  But I guess I feel like I can’t escape.  One bestie is falling in love, the other is planning her wedding.  Seems like everyone is paired up, and I just end up as some sort of awkward/self-deprecating/slightly pathetic entertainment.

In the end, though, most days are happy, joyful.  In the studio a lot lately.  Taking quiet time for reflection/meditation.  Spending lots of time with beautiful and talented people.  Still, a random song, a random moment, and it feels like my chest cracks open.  For a fleeting second the pain is just as fresh.

Marcus wrote this: Not Your Argos

Grateful he is sharing.  Sad he is hurting.  Still can’t go back.

Dad sent me this song, and it has been a sheltering moment when it comes on my iPod.

Feel like I have so many loving friends/family members with their hands hovering right behind my back for when I stumble.  And yet I have rarely had to deal with someone telling me who I am/how I should be acting/what I should do with my life.

Chris Thile, you have been given fair warning.  I’m coming to steal your heart.