48x24 Las Vegas, Nevada
I felt frantic painting this. Frantic that something beautiful was on the way. It was messy and broken and like the song, Hyperballad wouldn’t pick a pitch or a specific pace. Within that chaos, I was home. I remember the first time I heard your voice I thought, I can feel something. You had no video on that day just a picture of a blonde-haired woman with her hair up.
You sounded like you had one hand left, gripping to the edge of a 77 story building. Desperate to hold on. Desperate to let go.
In the rooms, before I knew how to identify feelings and pause instead of just acting on them and causing wreckage it was voices like yours, that tell the truth, with honesty and clarity, that saved me. The voices and ways of speaking that gave me ways to feel about ways and speak about it. There are gold and diamonds and shattered glass and black paint and resin and it’s heavy with all of that but she hangs proudly within the light.
Shattered all together.
Never met a woman like you before or a canvas with that depth of beauty and sharpness within her layers. Never met someone before that
I saw so much of myself in, knew what to say to, knew how it felt all that life and pain and joy and courage. You teach me what I know that is good. You teach me that I know the way out. You teach me that I can hang, shattered, and make it into a beautiful portrait that is only my own. Your experience gives my experience value, worth, and meaning beyond what I ever thought possible. I never got to be the one before that held light and could promise that there was another way.