Come Out of Your Shell, They Said
As a first generation college student and a deeply introverted young artist, being at a university surrounded by bright, sociable creatives was a jarring experience. I kept hearing the same phrases repeated to me over and over as I hung out in studios, agonized to friends about how socially awkward I was, and even from my therapist. Frustrated at the phrase being thrown at me again and again, I un-ironically (or ironically?) began a series of still life works using shells from my mother’s prized collection gathered from world-travelling relatives. I changed the arrangements, lighting, color schemes, and stroke work to try to process the frustration and the defiance I was tangling with at the time. I painted them over and over, without explanation.
As a first generation college student and a deeply introverted young artist, being at a university surrounded by bright, sociable creatives was a jarring experience. I kept hearing the same phrases repeated to me over and over as I hung out in studios, agonized to friends about how socially awkward I was, and even from my therapist. Frustrated at the phrase being thrown at me again and again, I un-ironically (or ironically?) began a series of still life works using shells from my mother’s prized collection gathered from world-travelling relatives. I changed the arrangements, lighting, color schemes, and stroke work to try to process the frustration and the defiance I was tangling with at the time. I painted them over and over, without explanation.
As a first generation college student and a deeply introverted young artist, being at a university surrounded by bright, sociable creatives was a jarring experience. I kept hearing the same phrases repeated to me over and over as I hung out in studios, agonized to friends about how socially awkward I was, and even from my therapist. Frustrated at the phrase being thrown at me again and again, I un-ironically (or ironically?) began a series of still life works using shells from my mother’s prized collection gathered from world-travelling relatives. I changed the arrangements, lighting, color schemes, and stroke work to try to process the frustration and the defiance I was tangling with at the time. I painted them over and over, without explanation.
Acrylic on Canvas, 11x14, early 1990’s still life study