From the gasping brush

From the deep
(for sale)

The girl leaps from the sea of her struggles, coming up for air before she must dive in again. The sea is not menacing, but rather very complex in its colors and textures, symbolic of the complicated nature of her traumas, relationships, distortions...her mind, in short. The birds whirl and hover, fixated on her and trying to understand what she is doing (a typical question from my treatment team). They are trying to lead her to recovery, and here she is seeking a reprieve from the work.

Originally I was going to have just two birds, but thought that would be too obvious a representation of H and L, my nutritionist and therapist, respectively. I'll admit, I meant for the third bird to be purely aesthetic, an eye-pleasing, round number, but it has been pointed out to me that it may very well be C, my boyfriend of several years. L is the bird closest to the girl, flying right with her and craning her neck to keep sight of me. She lets me do what I will, only trying to guide me without interfering too much. H is more forceful, turning around to hover and keep a watchful eye on me. Sometimes I feel as if she is a few steps ahead of me, and so that's where I've put her bird. C dives directly towards me into the scene, fearful to let me deviate from a linear path.

From the teetering brush

Traipsing the line
(for sale)

I feel like I am walking a thin line between being more recovered and falling dramatically back. By "being more recovered," I don't mean being completely recovered, because that's a long way in the distance, but more like getting to a place where I can be stable enough to get past such a decisive fence. My guide, the bird, shows me the way, in real life, taking the form of my treatment team and promising events, leading me to a place that can support life, that isn't so barren.

What strikes me about this painting is the fact that this thin bridge, trying to put roots down into water (physically impossible), connects such dramatic cliffs; there is no middle ground. The sea that should threaten beneath is not so menacing looking...whatever that means...

After a nutrition session with H, I realized a few things. If the cliffs are non-recovery and recovery, then the sea must be my struggles/traumas/"problems." Perhaps, then, the girl should be swimming through the sea to get to recovery, in order to do it "right"? The sea only exists between these two places, they don't rise out of it, which fits with my usual mindset: in ED and in recovery, I don't believe that my old problems exist. H said that I still don't seem to understand what recovery really is, as portrayed by my sad depiction of recovery land. "It definitely doesn't look like that," she said," admitting that my illustration was enough to make her choose to turn around because two flowers "aren't worth it!" She also pointed out that the girl is closer to the non-recovered side, moving very cautiously towards recovery. I seem uncertain as to whether or not recovery is worth it.

From the confident brush

The Freebirth of Venus
(Gifted; copies available)

The waves part to reveal her, unclothed, reborn of the tumult around her. The moon looks on, proud of what the girl has accomplished, proud of her strength and resilience in this harsh sea, prouder still that she has the sense to set the dove of peace free so that she may work on finding her own.

I painted this for my therapist L, who has been here for me for just under four years now. She is truly my guide and my protector. The moon shows a deep trust and appreciation in the girl's actions and existence, and this is consistently what L shows me. She has never lied to me, never hurt me, never given me any reason not to trust her, and finally I am starting to, warily, but increasingly. L is someone who will not lead me astray.

From the peaceful brush again

Shadowed land
(Gifted; copies available)

From the peaceful brush

The hopeful quiet
(Gifted; copies available)

From the empowered brush

Over the Sea
(for sale)

I drew this some time ago and just finished painting it. The most notable thing to me is the wisteria bush (purple flowers that look like grapes)-- it is alive on the side that she has passed by. And she, dressed in yellow, is the sun that is missing from the picture. So it's not so much about progress as it is about the life within her.

From the windswept brush

With the wind
(Sold! Copies available)

Choosing the promise that the life that springs from underneath her socked, protected feet holds, she trudges away from the edge. She knowingly smiles at the instability those tempting waves hold, and releases the bluebird from her hand, offering it opportunity. To me, there is a silence about the scene, perhaps because no words are needed.

From the ungrounded brush

Into the rush
(Gifted; copies available)

When I showed this painting to my nutritionist, H, she was struck by the faceless body diving from the boat into the deep end of the ocean. This is very much what I have been doing lately with my symptoms, focusing on my body and forgetting who I am in favor of control of the ED. The bluebird soars over the scene, narrating the crescendos with its outsider's eye.

From the morbid brush

The banks

I sketched this painting instinctively, almost deliriously, and painted it in just as detached a state of mind, though it speaks volumes about my mental state. Soaked, the girl crawls the bank of a deadened world. The water is saturated with colors, deep without ready clarity, and the burned out land proves to be just as complex; just because it is dead does not mean that it is straightforward. The bluebird draws the girl's attention to the overwhelming reaches of the tree with its tire swing, a sullen reminder of what came before: the liveliness of childhood, the color of simplicity.

From the cacophonous brush

In the din you'll hear a bird...
(Sold! Copies available)

In the roar of the wind and sea, the girl conducts the scene, pulling and rising the waves and wind to untwist the vines. In this, the bluebird is freed, singing over the busy scene and drawing attention to his distant goal of the bramble on another cliff. What else grows on that new shore is unknown, yet the bird still heads in that direction. With blind faith I fly from one tangle of life to the next, never knowing what the new will hold.

What is Good

"Hold on to what is good even if it is a handful of earth.
Hold on to what you believe even if it is a tree which stands by itself.
Hold on to what you must do even if it is a long way from here.
Hold on to life even when it is easier letting go.
Hold on to my hand even when I have gone away from you."
























(For Sale)