Here are Drawings, sculpture and paintings grieving the present historical situations for children through the illustrating climate crisis, American gun culture, prejudice of children of color, with disabilities or nondominant gender identity, poverty and hunger, and all kinds of abuse.
Art empowers me, but I also feel terrified of art making. I experience the world of fear. And yet my love for children and future generations propels my duty as an artist and witness to the truth.
Making art does not take away the sensation of fear. I do not receive a therapeutic relief. I am a participant in the vulnerabilities of the world and my own past.
For this series, I am mostly choosing the paradoxically strong and fragile paper. I stress it more and then weirdly becomes even more flexible.
I think of my drawings more like slivers of sculpture because I hang the away from the wall rather than protected by frames and glass. They can potentially subtly react to the movement of air, like a breath.
My drawings are intentionally folded and stored as if they might be precious and need to be compacted to travel by caravan or in my case to flee from the fire storms of Northern California. The seams also are an accessible way to feel how to fold these large drawings.
My paper sculptures are almost light as air. They are fragile but still breathing. They are stuffed with meditations and children’s prayers with tactile letters, large print or braille.
I do not need to depict graphic, horrifying images. I take beloved animal characters from traditional children’s stories or my own creations. Perhaps this is the only way, I can bear the heartbreak of the unseen unsafe young people.