I am a slow burn.
Not in love — I fell for my girlfriend the instant she grazed the back of my arm on our second date — but in the work of me becoming me.
I did not come out to my family and colleagues until my mid-thirties. I was not diagnosed with ADHD until my late thirties. I still have three baby teeth. I have known since I could form sentences that what I want to do in life is to travel and make art, but I would not allow myself to even invest in a painting class until February of this year.
It is hard to become who you are. It is hard to wake up one day and decide to do something different than what you have done every day before. It is hard to commit to one thing at the loss of something else. It is hard to let go of who you have been. It is hard to start over somewhere new. Even when that is what you really want, it is hard. It is hard to be a beginner when you have known success. It is hard to admit that something doesn't feel right after you have already told everyone it does. It is hard to take steps on a path that will only become clear after looking back.
It is hard. And lonely and embarrassing and terrifying and exhilarating and daunting and most importantly, it is life-affirming.
I’m delighted to introduce my new (first!) abstract paintings series, titled Slow Burn.
With everything going on in the world, I acknowledge how much of a privilege it is and how grateful I am to be able to launch an abstract painting series this week. I truly hope you and your dearest are safe and well.
Thank you for being here with me.