This year has been a pivotal one for me as an artist. I set a personal goal to push myself further, take more risks, and immerse myself in as many opportunities as possible to grow both my art and career. I’ve participated in countless events, markets, and gallery shows, each one offering new challenges and lessons. One of the events I was particularly excited about was Scrawl—an iconic event here in Columbus that I have admired for years.
Scrawl is an event I’ve attended countless times, watching artists I respect create amazing work. I’ve applied in the past without success, so when I received my acceptance this year, it felt like a huge breakthrough. Being part of this event, surrounded by artists who are unapologetically themselves, felt like a true mark of accomplishment. However, it’s not just the prestige that makes Scrawl stand out—it's the sheer endurance required. It’s a long event, mentally and physically challenging, and for me, being involved was both an honor and a significant test of my perseverance.
But Scrawl arrived at a complicated time in my life. For months, I’ve been dealing with health issues that have forced me to miss other events and live painting sessions. Alongside that, personal struggles have pulled me away from my work, leaving me feeling unfocused and uncertain. When I was accepted into Scrawl, I was thrilled, but also apprehensive. My immediate thought was, "Can I even do this?"
I questioned whether my health would hold up during the event. Would I be able to manage long, exhausting days with no one there who truly understood what I was going through? What would happen if my symptoms flared up while I was alone? As an introvert, I knew Scrawl would drain me, but the added layer of my health made it seem even more daunting.
Still, I felt a deep need to push myself, to prove to myself that I could handle it. I had to pace myself and give myself grace if things didn’t go as planned. Fortunately, in the week leading up to Scrawl, my health improved dramatically. It was such a relief to find myself able to do simple things again—like walks, trips to the grocery store, live painting— things that I had taken for granted. With my health on the mend, I was able to prepare properly for the event, gathering my paints, sketching out a plan, and focusing on the creative work ahead.
When it came time to paint at Scrawl, I knew exactly what I wanted to create. It had to be something personal, something that captured the unique moment I was in, both as an artist and a person navigating challenges. That piece became Fête d'un.
Now that I have shared the background of what led up to the event, I would love to share my artist statement for Fête d'un:
Fête d'un is a deeply personal work that marks a pivotal moment in my journey as an artist and individual. The title, which translates to Party of One, reflects the raw reality of solitude and independence, a state of mind I’ve come to embrace. This piece is not about isolation in a negative sense, but rather a celebration of the self—of realizing who I want to be, both in my art and in life, and charting a path forward that is uniquely my own.
The setting of a dimly lit restaurant with deep red walls provides an intimate, almost melancholic atmosphere. On the left side of the piece is a half-empty glass of wine, symbolizing all that I’ve poured out in recent times—emotionally, physically, and creatively—without yet fully receiving in return. This glass, sitting alone at a booth for one, represents my current state of reflection, a necessary period of selfishness where I’m giving myself permission to focus on what I need to thrive.
The floral arrangement that dominates the composition is crucial to the narrative. The organic, imperfect blooms reach out towards the wine glass, their vibrancy highlighted by a gentle light from above, symbolizing the hope and resilience that have emerged from my personal and health challenges. These flowers, a recurring motif in my work, are not just decorative—they are a testament to growth and healing. They remind me of what I’ve been through, and of the beauty that can come from imperfection and struggle.
In the background hangs the bottom half of Silver Lining, a painting I completed this summer during a period of intense fear and uncertainty over my health. Its subtle presence ties together past and present, linking my journey of recovery with the ongoing evolution of my artistic voice.
Fête d'un is ultimately a reflection of where I am today—a mix of introspection, independence, and quiet optimism. It’s a celebration of the self, of the courage to prioritize one’s own needs, and of the imperfect beauty that comes from resilience.
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