"French Love", oil pastel on paper, 10"x8", 2017
"Fight for Liberty", oil on canvas, 44"x 34" , 2017
"Butterflies are Fragile", oil pastel on paper, 10"x8", 2017
"Naked Pregnant Man", oil pastel on paper, 41" x 29", 2015
From the Novel “Nadja” by Andre Breton. “Beauty will be CONVULSIVE or not be at all.”
Racism is a complex issue. It hits close to home for me. My best friend for over twenty-five years is an African-American woman. People do sometimes treat her differently from me because she has black skin and I have white skin. It isn’t fair. I am watching the surging rise of racial tensions in society. There is no kidding myself, the hate and the stupidity is not new. This is an unquiet artwork bequeathed to an unquiet America.
"Walking on Water", oil pastel on paper, 22" x 30, 2015
A young woman on Tumbler posted one of my drawings. She said that she admired my art. She said that my art made her wish that she were more insane than she already was. But as I see it, having a mental illness is about as important to my art as the fact that my mother is pure Lithuanian. What is more important than my genetics is my drive and commitment. My art has evolved and matured over decades. So I have paid my dues. In magic and religion the sacrifice is a catalyst to summon forth changes in reality. If you want something very badly, such as to make good art, you must ask yourself, “What have I sacrificed to make my art alive?”
Pregnancy is a repeating symbol in my art. It is in my dreams too. When I was 28 years old I believed I stood at a crossroads to the future. There was enough ability, despite my illness, to do one of two things. I could have a baby or I could have a career making art. It was an either or decision. Being a mother would take all my energy and willpower if I was to do it right. And becoming an artist left no room in my day to tend to a young child. Once I choose a path it was forever. Forever a mother or forever an artist. I chose art. To keep to this path I decided to have a tubal ligation. The surgeon talked to me before I was anesthetized. She told me that she had never preformed a tubal ligation on a woman who had not had children. Was I certain? I said yes.
"She Wants It", oil pastel on paper, 22"x 30", 2016
"Beauty is Convulsive", oil pastel on paper, 30" x 22", 2016
“Two Headed Mermaid”, oil pastel on paper, 30”x22”, 2016
“Miss America and Her Black Baby”, oil pastel on paper, 41”x29.5”, 2016
Can I run faster than beauty? I certainly hope not. My wish is to be forever chasing after gorgeousness and vitality until I die of exhaustion.
When my husband saw the first layer of color on this drawing he said, “Oh my God.” It was fun to shock him because he is no innocent. Frequently he looks at erotic art on the internet. Later, when the drawing was finished, he told me that a man could never depict the white ejaculation in the way that I did. He said that no man would draw “those pink spheres and green cubes”. “You mean the extra goodness” I said, “like what is found in a box of Lucky Charms?” He laughed. And then he became serious. He explained that semen in art by men is always used as a way to brand the woman. It marks her as his possession or his territory. I said that I see the stuff as a magical seed of life, a holy liquid babies are made from. “No” my husband replied, “men aren't interested in that.”