For as long as I can remember I've needed art. Art has never needed me. I started when I was young. Painting, doodling, playing with polymer clay, gluing twigs to shit and whatever else I could find to glue that I wouldn't get in trouble for. I've always had this urge to create. My mom has always been a huge motivator, pushing me to have shows and generate art in whatever medium I was into that week. She also gave me my first job working with her at my parent’s photography studio. Retouching has stuck with me ever since.
About a year ago I made the big move out of mommy and daddy's house into a lovely little rental house with my boyfriend MattPorter. I'm feeling the urge to create now more than ever. So many white walls that are calling out for that perfect piece. This is a selfish reason to create art but it’s a big step. I usually dislike looking at the pieces I've made so having them on the walls is new. OCD usually kicks in when I look at my paintings/photographs, etc... “That line could be better... more red there... if I could just fix that one spot...”
Since moving wine has become one of my new favorite hobbies. This has led to one of my other new favorite hobbies. There are 127 paper butterflies on my ceiling. I've been inviting friends over to have a glass, or 3, shoot the shit and make this paper butterflies. The paper being used is various colors of various types of paper that I have dipped in spray paint. It's a fun technique I picked up in high school that involves a tray of water, spray paint and paper. Easy and fun. Each butterfly is different, signed by the friend that made it and stuck into my lovely drop ceiling with a pin. They are starting to take over, and I love it.
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