Journal 01

THE PERFECT STORM

Colour. Remembering. Humour. Love. Gratitude. Necessity. Pillars of my creative practice, I was the child who organized my pens and markers to flow in a rainbow. I ate the blue, brown and green M&M’s first as I was left with a firey bag of red, orange and yellow. I was, and am a child of matching; my pencil case to my binder to my winter coat. My coffee machine to my mug to my butter dish. This meant nothing. This did not make me an artist, just a very concerned 8 year old, that my peanut butter sandwich wouldn’t taste all that good if my plate did not match my cup.

Then I made a major discovery. My 3rd grade teacher alerted us that we were going to be playing Elvis-Presely-tag for gym class. In order to release yourself from being tagged you had to find a friend, shake your hips around in a circle and say “uh huh huh”. It was the strangest game of tag I’ve ever played in my life. But I had a burning desire to know who this “Elvis Presley" was, the man that went through life hips first. I googled him on my mum’s laptop and it changed my life forever. I watched every video with Elvis in it that was posted on YouTube in 2010. Until I found out that this magnificent musician was dead, and I experienced my very first heart break. I created elaborate plans and stories and theories in my head about how I could go back in time and save Elvis from Vegas and his horrible manager. I longed for the first time in my life, to befriend and save this musician that died well before I was born. I convinced my 4th grade teacher that I should do a speech on how Elvis Presely was one of the most important people who ever lived. I understood the harsh reality that I could not go back in time and save Elvis from his death, so I decided to become him. I dressed up as Elvis, practiced his speaking voice and performed a speech as the King explaining why he was one of the most important people in history. I was one step closer to becoming an artist, reconciling with death the best way I saw fit; becoming Elvis Presely and having a friend announce that I had left the building.

The next year I saw two films that gave me prospects into the future instead of the past; Star Wars and Indiana Jones. I was astounded by the idea of exploring other galaxies, finding a wookie to accompany me on my journey. Maybe I would be an astronomer. I would search for life, patterns and the secrets of the universe; solve the three body problem, find Darth Vader and convince him to join my quest. I loved how small Star Wars made me feel. That I was just a speck inside something expanding with its own plans, but that there could be someone lightyears away also struggling with the concept of death and putting their pants on one leg at a time. I watched Indiana Jones and decided maybe I could be an archeologist, uncover the secrets of the universe by looking into the past for clues; digging for old wedding rings and ancient notebooks. I was now becoming an artist bookended between Star Wars and Indiana Jones.

I soon realized that I did not have a brain for mathematical physics and the history books I read were full of men I did not care to learn about.

I grew to feel sad and alone in the world as most teenage girls do, I continued to draw people whose lives began long before mine; Janis Joplin, Slash, various members of Guns N’ Roses and Johnny Cash. I made friends with films and soundtracks and thought maybe I should be a psychologist so I can figure out what’s wrong with me.

I got into the University of Guelph to study Psychology and Studio Art. It didn’t take long to learn that everything is wrong with everyone; all I did in my teens was focus on my short-comings.

I struggled with math,

I couldn't play an instrument,

I didn’t have a lot of friends,

I wasn’t the fastest runner,

and I couldn’t speak french to save my life.

Everyone was making art about what was wrong with the world and I struggled to make art about my traumas and capitalism. But then, in the last breath of my freshman year at University I learned about positive psychology, the study of what makes life worth living for a human being. Gratitude became the center of my human being and I became an artist.

It wasn’t that I was a bad Elvis impersonator, astronomer, archeologist, psychologist and had to make art about all the things that were wrong with me.

It was that I loved Elvis, to think about the universe, to search for artifacts and that I would never be truly alone because I had so many things to love. I started to make art about music, about carpool karaoke, my Papa’s voice, how funny my family is, my favourite movies, lullabies, dancing and my childhood lifejacket. And I became the artist I always was, the kid matching her plate to her cup so the peanut butter sandwich would taste better.

I discovered my job in life is to be the matching plateware to other people’s peanut butter sandwiches, that way it all can taste a little better.