I was making work that felt like it had originality, and was reaching the depth of my being. I felt that others would connect to this work on a subconscious level and its soulful healing power would elevate them.

The paintings were as officially untamed as I was. There was a sense of unison as I interacted with a multitude of medias, no longer limited to acrylic. The surface layers represented simultaneously the seen and the unseen. I was feeling continually renewed as I flowed effortlessly between processes of building and destruction.

The substrate edges and surface were no longer contained and neither was I. I felt creatively invisible. The artwork was breaking through; it sang and shined my purest expression.

With renewed confidence, I began sharing the work through exhibition, emails and social media. To my chagrin, there was very little momentum in response to the work and once again my career flatlined. My artistic highs became very low lows.

Creating once was the modality for healing, but now, especially after too many art fairs, biennials and red dots for seemingly everyone but myself; it felt like the catalyst of the need for healing rather than my go to for transformation.

I too often felt disparity and was losing faith. My optimism waned and I wanted to smoother out the eternal calling to be an artist.