As I get ready to return to the lecture circuit, I have been thinking about how to articulate why making art that is deeply personal feels so politically charged.
Even if the themes in my art aren’t overtly political, daring to believe that my perspective — as a queer, mixed-race, black-skinned daughter of immigrants, as a rape survivor and a middle-aged mother — would matter to anyone but me is a revolutionary act.
Daring to believe that the world through my eyes is relevant and beautiful and worthy of consideration, of being framed and beautifully lit, hung on gallery walls or in people’s homes is an act of defiance, especially at a time when social/cultural/political forces are hell bent on eradicating all that I embody and love. This ‘daring to believe’ is precisely why I create art…
Here is painting 24 of 30: