Artists see all kinds of things in the ordinary world that others may not see: shapes, colors, texture, light – all of which, individually or together, can drive an artist to create.
Sometimes artists see other things that spur the putting of paint to canvas: pain, suffering, loneliness, isolation.
Such was the case when I created “Invisible.”
Watching my beloved mother age, I had seen her become increasingly ignored by others in her daily life. Waiters would bring her the wrong food; people would interrupt when she was talking; physicians would brush aside her ailments.
Eventually my mother stopped trying to be heard. It was as if the strong, funny, highly intelligent woman I knew was fading before my eyes.
It was a painful and unforgettable sight.
So, twenty years later, when the call came from a local art center for show entries based around identity, I knew what I wanted to paint.
“Invisible” is about my mother. But it is also about many women, who as they age become invisible, particularly in the eyes of men.
Inspired by a photo of a homeless woman, the aging woman in Invisible is painted in thin layers, emphasizing her transparency by allowing the background to bleed through her body in spots.
The window to her left feels actually more present than she does.
Since I am both a writer and a visual artist, Invisible combines words and images to tell the story of identity and its loss.
The words illustrate the specific details we use to identify ourselves and others:
And then, the reality of aging.
This painting has never sold, perhaps because it reflects an uncomfortable truth.
Yet it remains a cautionary tale to be visible and heard as I – and all of us – age.