Quiet Rebellion
All I wanted was to paint black boxes
Looking back: Part Two (if you missed Part One it’s here)
Like many others, I’ve lived decades of my life by the expectations of others. There’s often been a judgmental voice in my head that dictated what I “should” be doing and that voice was usually reinforced by comments from those around me. Parents, partners, society, they all had a say in what I was supposed to do, how I was supposed to look or feel. And I listened. There seems to be a certain point in life, usually at a later age, when a quiet rebellion begins and we decide we’re done. Done listening to the “shoulds”. Done living up to other people’s expectations. Done valuing things that are not valuable to us. Done being someone else. It’s taken me a long time to reach that point and now I strive to do what feels right for me.
This effort to do things my way has been making life better. For my birthday Bodhi and I escaped the heat on the east side of the state by going to the Washington coast. Specifically, Quinault Rain Forest, Seaside, and Moclips beach. It felt self-indulgent to do only what I wanted to do. But what better day than your birthday to indulge, right? A walk in the rain forest? Yes. A nap? Yes. Cake and ice cream? Yes!
That birthday trip we stayed at Moclips beach which is quiet and peaceful. Most of the time we were there it was misty and cloudy. That’s not a bad thing, in my book. Not when I’m at the beach. I rested. Really rested. And the splurge of a beachfront hotel was worth it because spending every day hearing the sound of the waves was exactly what I needed.
September Bodhi and I returned to what is now our favorite hotel in Cannon Beach and closed road trip season with another slow and relaxed weekend at the beach. Initially I thought we would visit Bandon Beach but the drive there is more than seven hours and I didn’t feel up to it.
While exploring new places is exciting, it’s comforting to know the place you’re visiting and what you already love about it. On this visit I got the chance to cross something else off my photo bucket list. Another shipwreck! The wreck of the Peter Iredale is in Fort Stevens State Park in Oregon and if you’re in the area it’s worth a visit. There’s something about a shipwreck that I find so intriguing. The Peter Iredale ran aground in 1906 and the iron structure is all that remains. As the sun sets there are so many opportunities to capture the light coming through the frame and the ocean in the background. I was very lucky that the clouds didn’t drift in until later and I was able to enjoy it with a clear view.
Low tide also revealed the tide pools which were such a fun surprise. I could have spent an entire afternoon just shooting the reflections and textures on the shore.
November was difficult. The election results shattered a lot of hopes I had and I am seriously concerned about the future. I feel lucky that I found refuge in friendships. On a cold weekend morning, a friend and I went to a local park to do some “mental health photography”. We spent our time making pictures of beautiful things we saw with no purpose other than looking for and capturing beauty.
The post-election frustration and sadness made me want to scream. Making art seemed like a frivolous and pointless idea and I contemplated stopping all of my artistic and business plans. With so many emotions swirling inside me, all I wanted was to paint black boxes. So I did. Putting brush to paper was soothing and making for the sake of making felt good. It was a simple and freeing exercise. I also painted tissue papers like the one at the beginning of this post.
Painting different pieces of paper with no goal in mind was meditative, easy, and helped me to find “the point” of making again.
For a while I’d been wanting to spend less time at my computer and make art with my hands so I let the black boxes lead me in a new direction. I put pieces of houses in the black box as if below ground, and bare winter trees growing above it. The house became a patchwork of different houses I’ve photographed through the years—some well-cared for, others falling apart. As I grieved, the ideas started to take shape and grow.
Looking forward:
For now I’m calling this new series Paper Houses. They come together like fragmented patchwork. They’re composed of bits and pieces of my photographs—dreams compiled and glued together, roots not in the ground, and the absence of doors. Making these has been so much fun and I’ll be writing more about the themes and metaphors in the houses in my next post.
Thank you for reading Photographs and Stories. As the new year begins, I hope you are able to do (at least some) things your way. Be a quiet rebel, paint or draw or make whatever you want with no concern for what anybody thinks. You never know where it could lead!
Peace and love,
Belated, but I just wanted to say thank you—as always—for sharing your thoughts and art with us! Your sentence, "Making art seemed like a frivolous and pointless idea, and I contemplated stopping all of my artistic and business plans," really resonated with me. A wise person once told me that happier people are more likely to help others, make the world better, and create positive change. While it can be difficult to find happiness during challenging times, it’s important to hold onto the things that bring you joy—because in doing so, you’re also uplifting others. Thanks for always uplifting me with your wise words!
Happy Birthday and what a treat to take yourself on such a beautiful adventure (that looks like my kind of beach weather, btw). I love the photography. I *really* love the Paper Houses collages project. What you showed here is very cool and compelling — and it is gratifying to know such art could spring from the darkness that came in November. 💜