Introduction

Corbett, New Widow, 1997

Ernest Hemingway wrote in his book, A Farewell to Arms," that

"The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. "

This quote stabs my heart every time I read it because its truth hits you like a clean glass patio door when you are not paying attention. I was never fond of Hemingway's macho, hard-drinking persona, but you've got to love a writer who takes the pains to hone a paragraph to such a sharp point.

This quote resonates because I, like many others, am strong at the broken places.  Most who know me wouldn't believe that because my scars don't show. I look younger than my years and have a great life. I've been fortunate beyond my most fervent hopes because I've known great love- and consequently, great loss.

For most of my life I've expressed experiences that have no words in my art. When I lived in Berlin, Germany, I was free to go to dark places and experiment because Germans have been to the dark side so many times that they are not easily shocked.

When I attended grad school in Vermont, I expanded on art ideas I'd begun in Germany. The professors claimed they weren't shocked, but I could see that they were. They supported me in making such art, but I always had the feeling they thought I was revealing emotional trauma in my art and didn't know it. Of course, I knew it! I just didn't care to discuss the details with relative strangers.  Fellow students praised my artistic courage and said I had "balls."

After graduation, I presented my artwork in Texas (where my family had moved) thinking my skills would be quickly recognized and I would on my way to a critical acclaim (and hopefully money!)  Boy, was I naive! 

When I approached galleries with my portfolio, the owners looked at my work in horror. One asked, "What terrible thing happened in your childhood to make you paint like that." Another smiled to my face and said my work was great. Behind my back she told people I was "a pervert."

What kind of art would make people say that? In this blog you'll get a chance to judge for yourself. I'm publishing this blog at this time, not because I want to be a martyr or to shock the world, but because I can no longer hold my head up pretending to be what I am not.