This was the first bird I drew. It died in my hand in mid winter of 2009. It was a baby bird and while it died I tried with all my might to warm it up and to put some life back into it.
That moment seemed to be a turning point in my life. I did what I have always done – made art to process sadness and personal loss. The drawing gave me peace and new directions and I remember thinking very clearly that some things needed to change.
I named those things and with great clarity enumerated why I should not have to contend with them any longer and that I would no longer engage with things in the way I had. I had worked hard enough.
It seemed that my life turned then from Winter towards a slowly dawning spring.
In the same vein, I once wrote a poem in the dead of winter and in a brave effort to be positive – despite a serious lack of financial stability and nothing on the wintery horizon that would change that, I wrote “ even though it is dead winter – I can hear the snowdrops chiming underground.”
Being an artist gives one a visualizing capacity to transform things – it is a very great gift and has always been my companion through thick and thin.
