While dismantling my late mother's art studio, I was delighted to come across a portfolio of my childhood drawings, which I'd done when I was seven.
I'd written about painful aspects of my childhood; but these colorful drawings made me reconsider the sad narrative I'd constructed. Clearly, making art had brought me joy long ago.
So perhaps I should get down to work.
I scanned and dropped my favorite childhood drawings into photos I'd taken recently with my iPhone, with the help of Photoshop.
Collaborating with my younger self felt magical. I traveled through time and space with an artistic freedom and ease that delighted me. Reality was redefined, and my relationships with people and places felt fluid. I laughed out loud as I drew into some of my old images, erasing and transforming them to fit into their new homes.
Cowboys and Indians frolicked together on Martha’s Vineyard.
Jugglers and clowns performed in the middle of Times Square.
I was surrounded by my family on a beach at sunset.
A little girl rowed her boat in the Sapphire Seas off the coast of Turkey.
A happy couple stood in my neighbor's back yard, in a field full of black-eyed susans.
And a snowman found himself on a Martha's Vineyard beach.
I had connected to my past in a powerful, healing way. I felt integrated and whole.
These images found their way to the oncology department of the Martha's Vineyard Hospital, where eighteen prints are now part of their permanent art collection. I can't imagine a better place for my work to venture out into the world.