

At times the Artist feels so exposed…so unlike the rest…so isolated from the rest of humankind… She express this as ,”Feeling like I am painted Green”.


THROUGH The EYES Of A SURVIVOR—Solo Show
. These Works were compiled for my Solo Show at The Morean Arts Center during Sexual Violence Awareness Month. The Autobiographical Works are a portal into the Flashbacks and Emotional Upheaval of Violent Sexual Abuse that I have experienced, beginning at age 8. My Art is a necessary work that I am compelled to create, as a coping mechanism and therapy for my PTSD and Bipolar Mania and Depression.
. It is my way to express to the World that I am Vibrantly Alive and Healing…and as I let the images and memories tell the narrative I share my Hope, a hope that other survivor’s can find solace in creative processes also…









Have you ever had snippets of your past flit thru your mind? If you have, you may have an inkling of what someone with PTSD and it’s related Flashbacks experience. For me these are almost always paralyzing and confusing , and definitely debilitating. In my experience as a violent sexual assault survivor three times over, these flashbacks often begin with a lovely little fleeting memory from childhood, maybe a teddy bear pops into my thoughts, or a certain dress I liked when I was little. Innocent and pleasant thoughts…but then they change. Suddenly I am that 8 year old again, standing in front of a judge with my molester staring at me, and he is asking me to explain, in detail, the evil deeds this grizzled old pedophile did to me. Then the judge says, Can you speak up, and can you repeat that in greater detail…louder… Then my brain goes on auto pilot, but it must be like the poor doomed Boeing Flights recently. My thoughts are taking a 500 mile an hour nose dive. A dive I have no way of pulling out of.
This 16″ x 20″ mixed media painting illustrates me inside those disjointed , fleeting nightmares , one’s I live with everyday, in any seemingly ordinary moment. Hands touching me that seem to come out of the fog, touching me without my permission, making me feel violated and unsafe 50 years later. Making me party to the torment, because my own mind is the person betraying me, reminding me, and playing these videos on an endless twilight zone-like reel.
But I am still surviving my past darkness, and I have stepped squarely into the light.


What motivates the Artist to pour the thoughts of pain onto her canvas? Could it just be too chaotic and crowded for the random images to stay inside her head?
What triggers the Traumatic thoughts? The remembered pain, the current, unending struggle to endure the stream of memories, all the pressure building, building, building.
Yes. All the Pressure,
Yes. The Stream of Thought.
Yes. It must find a Release.
Lather, Rinse, Repeat.

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