I’ve always been a “my work is never finished” kind of person. Incessant pestering over tiny details, never walking away, never being satisfied. Every time I put a painting down I say “good enough for now, I’ll revisit it in a few weeks.” And let me be clear, I have no idea what “finished” would even look like in my eyes. “Finished” is something that I have discovered to be completely arbitrary for everyone. Is it when you put down the paint brush? Is it when you’ve matted or framed your piece? Is it when you hang it on a wall? Is it when you’re ready for other people to see it?
I often get my work to a place of general satisfaction before I put them down for a eternal life in painting purgatory. That general satisfaction can only be described as the feeling of “plucking the right heart string” or hitting the right note that just feels warm and right. It’s a vibration in my heart that hums and satisfies an visual or emotional need in my soul.
It wasn’t until I started submitting work to art galleries to show my work in public that I realized I had to actually abide to some level of professional definition of “finished.” My digital work isn’t printed, I don’t have frames, I don’t paint the edges of my canvas most of the time, and I have NEVER considered what prices to value my work. When I submitted photos of my work for some art galleries, I had a very “just wing it” attitude because I didn’t think I’d actually get the chance to show anything, so when I was chosen to show a few pieces, it forced to to see my work in a very different light.
I think being chosen to show work in places which is truly respect for being uplifting safe spaces for BIPOC artists made me respect my own work more than I ever have before. I wanted to do my best to make my work feel worth of being in such incredible places. The methodical time I took to find a frame that fit my pieces just right or to take photos of my work for instagram made me view what I had created as more “finished” than I ever had before. I ran around town to print work on nice paper, went to multiple places to find frames, painted the frames to match my work, calculated the cost of my supplies and labor to assign a fair price to the work, and traveled all over town to deliver the pieces to the galleries. To take care of something is to show it ultimate love, and I don’t think I’ve ever truly loved my work more than I have over the past for months.
There is no better feeling than seeing your work on a gallery wall and watching people take it in. Hearing whispers of people discussing how it makes them feel. Being able to talk about what a piece means to you and watching someone connect to the story you’re telling. As much as I have committed to making work for myself, it is a very different feeling to finally share something with others that is so closely part of you. The vulnerability of putting myself out there has been terrifying but it has been worth it every step of the way. I can’t wait to continue this journey and see how this new perspective will influence my future work. I can only hope to continue to get the opportunity to show my work around the city of Seattle. Thank you to every gallery that has given me a chance thus far, your support has given me more confidence and momentum than you may ever know.