I began painting because I was at a point in my life where I literally did not know what else to do. I'd moved almost 4000 miles away from home and watched my life and former "identity" virtually disappear.
I've always found great comfort in my creative nature. Much like a split personality creates new personalities to cope: I simply create.
I'd spent a lot of my adult life in the beauty industry. Ironically, there is actually very little beauty in the beauty business. The beauty business is in fact, filled with a lot of mean personalities, nasty egos, huge insecurities and a fair share of backstabbers.
I learned a lot about myself in this field. I learned a lot about artistry and developed my own aesthetic. My beauty career, specifically my work as a Makeup Artist allowed me to make things (faces) perfect. The acts of human aesthetic transformation that this career allowed me to make indelibly transformed me. Ironically, this work ended up affording me an immense respect and love for the imperfect.
This is where my beauty career (unknowingly) became my ART career. My former hero worship for utter and complete perfection morphed into a much freer admiration for things that were not perfect.
Due to my professional spa office location; I'd spent over 10 years surrounded by art. I didn't realize that somewhere deep inside me, I was an painter, a creator, an artist. I bought the false narrative being whispered around me that; Only "they" could create art.
My mind was a fertile farmland; consisting of acres and acres of ideas, concepts and creations. I've always dreamed in vivid, cinematic color. I believe that my nightmares rival any movie production. The special effects that I've conjured in my sleep have yet to be seen in a movie theater.
It took me packing up everything and moving down South to release this creative fireworks factory.
I wasn't used to failure, I'd always found success in my professional endeavors. I didn't realize that I'd moved to a place where "the help" and the "clients" existed in a chronic hierarchy. If you are "the help" you are not allowed a personality, a brain or god forbid: respect. I set up office after office in busy locations, only to sense that people found me "uppity", "too New York" and basically just "too much" for the service industry. I am not the type to wear a uniform or a name tag and act subserviently.
The deep South was not having it; but fortuitously; neither was I.
My once flowery beauty career subsequently fell flat on its face. Instead of taking up a drug or alcohol addiction like many of my Beauty Industry contemporaries, I woke up one day and drove to the Art Supply Store, I bought paint, canvases and brushes.
On this day in April: A/Rev the artist was born.
Tranter Sinni Gallery, Wynwood District, Miami Florida
Winter Party Art Scape, FIU Carta Gallery, South Beach,
Gay Polo League Auction, Wanderer's Club, Wellington Florida