The culture is relaxed and playful, and for someone who is serious like me, it is good to be around people who can always make things lighter. When I live with an idea and a process and work with the unknown to see if this idea can be made visible, this embodies a feeling of home for me.Īdditionally, I feel very much at home in Italy. Becoming an artist was not about a career. That experience reminded me of my start in art and its capacity for healing. I was invited to draw during their music lessons and concert. Just recently, I was invited to visit Sing-Sing Prison, a big, maximum-security correctional facility in upstate New York, with a group of musicians who teach music to inmates as a type of rehabilitation. I felt safe when I was doing art and pursuing my commitment to art, which has remained strong since I was seventeen. It was wonderful to thank her for this a half century later.Īs stated, I didn’t feel safe at home. Additionally, I learned she had purposefully left the art studio unlocked so I could always have access. She said it was clear that I had to do art. I asked her what she remembered about me as a high school student. Fifty years later, when I attended my high school reunion in California, my art teacher was present. When I was in high school, I skipped other classes to go to the art studio to work. When I was in high school, I became involved in art classes and began my practice of art. I never thought of being an artist I made art as a psychological necessity. Additionally, the strong use of black and white demonstrates a Japanese influence. In Japan, we took classes in Shodō and Ikebana along with the other foreigners, and you can see that early influence in my drawing and thinking. With art, I had something to focus on other than the violence at home. The twenty years of hell came later and when they did, my art practice helped me survive. It was a clear period when I lived without threats or fear. I lived there before the terrible violence took hold of my family. Japan as home was important to me for several reasons.
I left home before I finished high school to live in the Young Women's Christian Association (YWCA) so I could get away from the violence at home. I was the eldest of seven and was the first to be attacked. This was hidden when we were in Japan, but it erupted when we returned to the United States. My father was an alcoholic, and he became violent. When I was fourteen, my family moved back to California, and a terrible chapter began for all of us. My feeling of home is having the time to create and think freely without plans or restrictions. This was important then, and it still is. During my teenage years, I was radically threatened by the outside, but I managed to keep it intact. On the outside, I was mostly obedient to avoid trouble, but on the inside, I was not.
My family was Catholic and controlling, and I hated all of their attempts to control me.
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