ARTIST STATEMENT — PART II

The Inner World of Which I Was Taught to Beware Of

If Part I of my Artist Statement

describes the what of my work—its themes, its intentions, its relationship to imagination and renewal—then Part II speaks to the why. It opens the door to the inner journey that shaped my creative life: the unblocking, the lineage I inherited, the spiritual and cultural forces that formed me, and the rediscovery of the quiet voice within. What follows is the story behind the work—the personal path that taught me how to listen,

There was a time in my life when the inner world was not a safe place.

I grew up in a tradition that treated spontaneous intuition and imagination as questionable — even dangerous. Anything that didn’t come through linear reasoning, scripture, or ordinary conversation carried a shadow of suspicion. A sudden idea, an unexpected phrase, an inner image—that wasn’t celebrated as inspiration. It was treated warily, as if the unknown could only mislead.

This cultural suspicion didn’t appear out of nowhere. For generations, fear-based spokespeople worked to degrade and dismiss the natural human connection to Source — the quiet, creative whisper that artists, inventors, and mystics have always known. If something arrived from within, unbidden, it was distrusted. And so an entire culture gradually lost faith in its own creative birthright.

For years, this fear shaped me.
It blocked my ability to listen inwardly.
It made me hesitate before trusting the gentlest spark of inspiration.
But the truth is: inspiration is simply the way Spirit communicates. Not theatrically, not ominously — but subtly, through intuition, images, ideas, melodies, colors, and sudden clarity.

As I healed, I learned that this flow is not outside God.
It is the place where the Divine becomes personal.

The Lineage That Lived Quietly in My Family

My father lived from this open place without conflict. He was creative in practical ways — sketching ideas, designing solutions, thinking beyond the obvious. He didn’t carry the theological fear that I did, and so his imagination was free to breathe.

And the deeper creative river flowed from my grandmother Adella, who made art as naturally as breathing: oil paintings, quilts by the hundreds, lacework, crochet, handmade garments, and a lifetime of voracious reading. She was an artist in every sense, though she never called herself one.

But my mother — raised without the joy of her own mother’s creative world — inherited the legacy in quieter forms. She expressed beauty through home, cooking, care, order, and presence. Creativity lived in her, but without a name.

Becoming an Artist in a Family That Didn’t Speak That Language

So when I emerged as an artist — truly, openly, intuitively — it did not quite fit the family story. My drawings were praised, yes, but the deeper nonlinear world inside me was unshared, unspoken, and often unknown even to myself. I hid it from others because I had been taught to hide it. And I hid it from myself because it felt forbidden.

Art school, writing school, screenwriting, poetry, painting, music — these were not just forms of training. They were forms of unblocking. Every assignment, every canvas, every page required me to listen to the inner voice that I had spent years suppressing. And the more I listened, the clearer it became.

Now I understand that inspiration is not taboo.
It is guidance.
It is partnership.
It is the everyday language of Spirit — the way Source collaborates with us.

A Hopeful Spiritual Vision, Not an Escapist One

This matters not just personally, but collectively. When people shut down the inner voice, they cling to rigid doctrines and fear-based narratives. They treat Earth as disposable, as though heaven is elsewhere and this world cannot be “home.” But I believe — deeply, instinctively — that heaven-on-earth was always part of the original plan.

We messed things up, yes. But the impulse toward beauty, creation, healing, renewal, harmony, and possibility is God’s ongoing invitation to participate in the world, not abandon it.

We are meant to be co-creators — not spectators waiting for escape.

And that is what my art is.
A collaboration.
A conversation.
A reclaiming of what was blocked in me and in so many others.
A continuation of the creative lineage carried by my father and my grandmother.
A repair of something ancestral and cultural.
A choosing of hope instead of fear.

Creating From the Open Place

I create because I finally trust the inner voice.
I create because I am no longer afraid of inspiration.
I create because the world needs new visions when the old ones are falling apart.
I create because I hear the whisper that says, “Make this,” “Try this,” “Share this,” and I say yes.

My work — whether music, writing, film, or illustration — comes from that place.
The open place.
The receptive place.
The place where collaboration with Source becomes possible.

This is not mediumship.
This is not mysticism.
This is simply what happens when the inner silence is unblocked.

It is art.