When I paint a person’s trauma or their pain it allows them to no longer carry it with them.
That might seem very strange indeed but it is true. Another thing that happens is that there is a flood of relief, as one of the reasons we hold on to our pain is the need not to forget. When it is hanging on the wall, static and yet no longer a threat, there is a peace of mind and a tranquility that is the gift of art. The journey is often a cathartic one, as bit by bit the story is added to, fleshed out. Sometimes these commissions are quick and furious, other times they literally take years.
Kintsukorai shown here is one that I doubt I will ever finish as it is a story of a man, my friend, injured in the service of Canada who has bravely fought back despite injuries that others could not have survived. He has another which I have also included: the horse is a portrait of him living half here, half back in the sandbox.
Kintsukorai is the art of making that which is broken more beautiful than before. So many of us who are broken by life are so much more beautiful as a result of our suffering. Our ability to endure and to grow is immense. It is this that I celebrate in these pieces. Much of what others will see in it is simply color and form, the true meaning of each stroke is owned only by the one who’s piece it belongs to. No other.