I was the odd child out, I was chatty (and still am) and often spoke of things that were perceived weird and not very usual for child my age.
Being the only child too, my early life was spent in hallways of my imaginary world, safe from judging eyes.
Solitude was not a scary place to me, in that darkness I found most colorful creations., I discovered that I am an artist at heart and that feelings I possessed easily rolled from my fingers, filling the blank pages of my diary.
Words were pearls that embellished the crown I wore, as a ruler of my own Kingdom. In there child of single, loving and brave mom painted the solitude vivid and soothing.
There, I was free to dive into the pages of my beloved books, ride on the Pegasus, dine with fairies and try to convince Snow white not to eat that apple (it was not organic girlfriend!).
I would often get in trouble in school art class, when I would defly my teacher who would specifically tell me not to use black pencil to outline my drawing with "But sir, it just needs that final touch" - no wonder I became make up artist.
Since written world was most dominant part of my expression, I always admired people who were able to paint, I drew with a pencil a little, but really had no idea where to even start when it came to painting.
I was especially in awe with my friend Rosalida, who has most amazing artistic eye, I have ever seen. She designed costumes, but every aspect of her was living and breathing was art.
She had (and has) ability to find beauty in the most unusual and mundane things in life, like lief fallen from the tree, laying green and dying on the bare sidewalk, she stopped and took it in.
Her paintings were fluid movement of feminine grace, with beautiful vivid colors fusing together to create pieces I wished were my own.
My schooling as painter came years later, in the form of my beloved boyfriend.; He has most amazing ability to throw me a surprise birthday party, year after year (and I consider myself a master sleuth of Sherlock proportions, sans the cocaine addiction). But yet he would get me every year.
During one of those parties (this one was Hello Kitty themed), my beloved boyfriend presented me with red French barrette hat, set of painting brushes and a painting class certificate. Oh la la! Thus journey began.
Michael, self thought painter himself was an amazing artist. His works were huge self stretched canvas pieces abstract and full of statement. His first Xmas gift to me was actually custom made red painting that took my breath away.
He patiently guided me trough different techniques, explained how colors react, pointed what I was doing wrong and showed me how to correct it.
He was detrimental in pushing me when I got stuck. With his firm but loving pep talk, he would guide me trough my mental block.
Some of his techniques were personal ones and not that easily understood by me. I would often revert to that stubborn child outlining everything with black pencil, and try to do it the way I felt comfortable. Take his technique and change it a little, so I can understand better. I was slowly finding my own voice, my own way of painting.
He was more abstract and his movements were blunt and textural, where I found joy in blending everything to death, just like a true make up artist would.
I have started noticing that I was able to view make up differently, thanks to my new hobby. I stopped looking at planes of the face as just that.
Eyes, nose, cheeks and lips. It became sort of canvas to me, where colors bled outside of natural borders to create nice color symphonies, helping me to express myself even more.
My color choices became bolder and more unusual and I found just as I was implementing some of my blending techniques in make up on canvas, I have also picked up some of oil techniques for faces as well.
Even now as a grown person, I find most comfort in that solitude and silence that surrounds me. A little table, set near the window in tiny NYC apartment became a doorway to my old kingdom.
Once again, I was able to enter the world, where lonely child weaved colorful fabric of imagination, to cover herself from darkness that surrounded her. Protected from the world.
When ever I need to find my center, get away from mad rush of the world, from expectations, from judgment and find that stillness that coddled me as a child I pick up my brushes and enter.
This time I am not alone, I brought a visitor.
To my kingdom I introduced a man who with his soothing voice and patient hand, led me to find that expression and translate it on canvas - to find my voice again.
I have found a king to rule beside me.