La Maison Rouge

The Red House- a series of work exploring the jagged side of our lives and the hope that is always underlying.

These are the sort of pieces that boil up. It’s not during the happy or easy times, it is during the times where art is a true refuge and escape for me. When everything- every…single… thing… about everything- is bugging me. Or when the current state of the world is just too much to take in peacefully. For when you feel like you need to let IT out- whatever it is.

This series is about the inner emotional darkness we all face. I don’t want this darkness to be mixed in and confused with the darkness of evil. Think of this more like the darkness of your own room at night. Familiar, sometimes a little scary, but in the end necessary and comforting as a balancing point of your life. Another way to think of it would be night vs. day. Just because it gets dark at night it doesn’t mean it’s bad. (If this is making you a little uncomfortable, that’s the whole point of the pieces. Also, read to the end of this post where I will share some very personal ways that I deal with my own dark times.)

This piece is the first of The Red House pieces I created. For a long time it was the only one of it’s kind. I haven’t done too much with it because my husband loved it so much, it has by default become a part of our “permanent collection” of my art that is in our home.

My original thoughts were:

It’s not really snow, but my mind knows what it is, even though it doesn’t really have a name…

This piece is about the storms in the mind that seem to blow around and over us as a blizzard. Completely blocking out the rest of life for a while, giving you a bit of tunnel vision or isolation. Suddenly, it’s quiet, and you see the blizzard is over and the storm has created such intricate beauty you almost cannot take it in.

Fractured

My original thoughts:

It’s ok if you’re feeling this now. I am too. Don’t be afraid to look down into the crack. Just remember that you are going to climb up out of there when you’re done.

This piece is about the those sudden jagged crevasses that can appear: in our lives, relationships, work, church, or anywhere we thought we were on solid ground– but it turns out we weren’t. This is the main part of looking into what you are avoiding. By confronting it and staring into it, you will see the bottom and be able to climb up and out.

After The Rift

Now this piece is about the permanent rift that has occurred. We’ve all done it. Built our house on shifting sands in one way or another. Damaging or unhealthy habits, relationships, patterns, jobs, friends, people… every once and a while (hopefully) you come to understand you are at the point of no repair. Built on a fault line, this was destructive and doomed from the start.

The Bridges We Build

That ground seemed so firm and sound. Yet the crack grew and grew. We are more similar than we are different, yet we are suddenly so far apart. The bridge must be made, rickety at first, but the fact that it’s there will mean everything.

This piece is showing the way to move forward. Start taking that action towards repair. Step by step, that rickety bridge will seem more and more sure. Reaching out a hand of peace is almost never returned by a slap. If so, recognize the fracture and leave the bridge to be used by future ones on the same journey.

Finally, the Hope that I have

For the betterment and growth of my art career, I am advised over and over again to not address politics of religion. But at the risk of bad opinions, I find that I cannot share and express this extremely personal part of my inner self without expressing it in it’s entirety. Since we have approached a very personal topic, I feel it is appropriate to share a bit more of my inner self to close the loop.

My paintings over and over again have an undertone of struggle plus hope. There is always hope at the end of the journey, a light at the end of the tunnel. This is usually expressed in the form of roads without end, or vanishing into a sky full of vibrant and expressive swirling paint.

These pieces are no different, though the swirling paint is depicted in grays, blacks and whites. That is because this world of the Red House is a little more grim, darker, more about the times that are not so easy. Even though the colors have been zapped for this series, the hope is still there, the message is the same. From time to time we need to peer into our own dark room, but we have the ability to flip the light back on.

For me, the main component of this hope and light is my personal faith in Jesus Christ and the resurrection from death, the forgiveness of sins, and the restorative healing and redemption that is offered through Jesus’ death on the cross. This is the ultimate light at the end of the tunnel. Though this life is full of constant struggle, trial, hardship, pain, suffering, confusion and a general lost feeling– through knowing Jesus and what He has done for me, I know that through it all I can continue to have hope. I hope and trust that God is guiding us, leading me personally through this journey called life, and calling me to heaven at the end of my time. God’s providence is evident to me every day, and the more I seek him, the more I am found every day. The swirling paint often depicts this overlying hope I have of a greater plan, a higher calling, someone who actually knows what is going on. Without God I would be lost. Just as I cannot envision myself as anything but a crazy oil painter, I cannot not physically, mentally, spiritually see how I exist without faith in God.

I will close with saying that I am not sorry if this offends you, after all, you read this far! I hope you can see this for what it is, a personal expression of my inner thoughts. This is not telling anyone what to think or believe, but simply sharing more into how the works came to be. If you’d like to hear more about either subject, please contact me directly and i’m here- real as ever- to build bridges and see that we are more alike than we are different.