Feeling Seen, Through Art

One of my heart’s desires as an artist is to make people feel seen.

Life is busy and mundane, unique and boring, exciting and tedious, and in the middle of all that life, we can sometimes disappear. Between work, relationships, cleaning, car maintenance, birthday parties, church and doctor’s appointments we can at times feel like we’ve simply vanished into the swirling lines and shapes that make up the pattern of our life.

But art pauses the chaos. Just for a moment.

While you’re standing in front of that painting, or sculpture, or beautifully stitched quilt you can reappear for a minute. See a part of you reflected in the creation before you. Corners of your heart that have been buried under activity can resurface and remind you of who you are.

That’s my aim with every portrait I paint. I want you to know that I see you. You are beautiful. You are known. You are loved.

Art did that for me a few months ago.

I went to visit a precious friend in North Carolina, and because she shows her love by seeing and knowing, she took me to the Biltmore House. If beauty is high value to you, this place will make your head explode and your heart melt.

But it wasn’t the gorgeous rooms, majestic chandeliers, or perfectly manicured grounds that made me feel seen and known.

It was Claude.

I was walking in front of my friend, listening to the self-guided tour on the little hand-held speaker, when the voice said, ‘And in this room we have original Monet paintings.’

Right in front of me. I was standing right in front of Monet’s beautiful work. I had no idea they were part of this home’s art collection! I was amazed, delighted, speechless.

But that wasn’t the best part.

The best part was turning around, with tears of joy and surprise, to see my friend watching me and smiling- knowing all along that this room contained those treasures. Treasures that I would delight in. Treasures that would touch my heart. She knew.

And in that moment, art gave the give of being known. The gift of being seen.

An Extroverted Introvert

Do you ever let other people, personality tests, and past experiences define you? Do you ever feel like “I guess that’s just the way I am!”?

I do.

One of the ways I have let external influences define me is in the area of introversion and extroversion. We love to make it black and white- some people are introverts, some are extroverts. Full stop.

And so, I agree each time I’m told I’m an introvert. I believe each time I tell myself that people wear me out. I believe that sore ears in a loud room mean I want to be alone.

But, I think we’re a little bit more complex than that. We aren’t simple machines. We are alive, we are human, we are growing, changing. We are different depending on the context, our mood, our stage of life, and who we’re around. We are dynamic. We are people!

And sometimes I’m introverted.

And sometimes I’m not.

I know this is true because of something 2022 has taught me.

I have taken my art outside this year. I’ve taken it to galleries, and events, and shows. I’ve shared it in emails, and displayed it on social media. I’ve talked about it and celebrated it, and put it in front of eyeballs.

And I’ve loved it.

I’ve loved the people-y part of sharing my art.

I’ve loved each person who has laughed or cried or hugged me because a piece of art made them feel honored and seen.

I’ve loved the stories people have entrusted to me about the precious life I’m coaxing out of the canvas.

I’ve loved the buzz of a full gallery and the hush of art conversations in the corners of the room.

I’ve loved kids who want to paint with me and have no shame in embracing the fact that they are artists!

I’ve loved the generous spirit of other artists in the community who invite me, include me, encourage me.

Thank you art, for teaching me that I am a people-loving introvert who needs all the beautiful connections with other humans that you offer.

I Love It When They Cry

Do you ever watch Devon Rodriguez, the trending Tiktoker who draws people on the NYC subway? My favorite part of his videos is when he hands the drawing to the person. Often they cry. Why is that?

I have a few theories…

Surprise. I think we go through our days expecting little in the way of attention and affirmation. To see yourself created in a piece of art is ninja level validation, and it triggers the tear ducts.

Depth is another theory. Words only express so much. At some point we have to sing, or jump, or write poetry, or cry. When something hits us in those tender places in our hearts, tears appear.

And lastly, beauty. Beauty gets us every time. It’s visceral, emotional, overwhelming.

That’s why I love a teary response when I hand over a commissioned piece of art. It tells me that my small efforts of capturing on the canvas the worth of a person has possibly paid off. My prayer is that beauty and affirmation will always be part of the portrait painting process.

Isn't It Just Copying?

Artists are often sensitive, emotional, and able to see things from a different perspective. We can also be a moody bunch prone to soaring snobbery and sinking self-loathing. These two ditches are often best displayed through our disdain for other mediums and genres of art.

As a portrait painter, I most often hear the criticism: “Aren’t you just copying?”

The short answer? ‘Yes.’

I always have.

I copied my parents when I learned to form words. I copied my teachers when I learned reading and writing. I copied my siblings when I learned to tattle. Copying is how I’ve always learned and created.

But, to make the criticism sting less, I would like to suggest that many art forms are ‘elevated copying’. Yes, I’m copying values, forms, and color. But I’m also seeing.

I spend hours looking at my subjects as I paint them. I see. I notice. I’m intrigued. I put that all on canvas. And it does something to the subject, the viewer and me, the painter.

The subject feels seen. Known. Beheld.

The viewer feels empathy. Themselves reflected in the expression and humanity of the subject.

And I, the painter, feel like a mirror. Taking the image of someone and reflecting it back to them with worth, value and dignity.

Yeah, I copy. But my prayer is that I become an artist who copy the steps of the Creator Who sees, shapes, forms, and heaps dignity on all.

Calling Myself 'Artist'

Have you described yourself as ‘artsy’, ‘artistic’, ‘craftsy’? Do these words feel safer than ‘Artist’?

I felt the same way.

Calling myself an artist, despite the fact that I was creating art on a regular basis with the intent to exhibit and eventually sell my art, felt physically painful.

About 5 years into my ‘taking art seriously’ journey, I met a Filipino artist who invited me to exhibit some of my paintings at an upcoming exhibit at the local museum. It was a life-changing moment in a lot of ways, but what I remember most was him taking a look at my painting hanging on the wall and saying, ‘There, now you can go ahead and call yourself an artist’.

So I did.

The truth is, I could’ve called myself an artist long before that point, but I needed someone to encourage, prod, and validate me as an artist. I needed permission and I didn’t yet have the maturity to give it to myself.

I guess what I’m saying is that if you make art on a regular basis, have a designated studio space, sometimes sell your creations, exhibit, take classes/courses/workshops to hone your skill, or a myriad of other art practices, you my friend are an artist. Go ahead and say it out loud. It feels good.

-Belinda