Three years ago I became permanently disabled due to a cyst in my spinal cord. Disability made me reconsider everything about my life, including my relationship with painting. Suddenly perfection was no longer an option in any area of my life, which has led to a strange freedom. Today, I struggle to walk and hold things in my hands. I no longer have feeling in my arms or legs. Everything is harder. So much has been taken away from me and my family. My body betrayed me, but I am still here, learning to regrow.

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Each painting is a clumsy stumble through an attempt to capture beauty. Where I once relied on skill and finesse, I am now scratching and clawing through the muddy process.  Instead of getting wrapped up in how my work could be better, each painting is a celebration of the ability to participate in the process. Some days I paint lying on the couch. Some days I can only cut paper. I keep trying all the same. I’m learning to paint despite my brokenness… a humbling lesson for a recovering perfectionist.