The phone call was innocent enough. “Hey Julia. Can we meet for lunch or something? I have an idea I want to float by you.”
Tara, a dear friend, and I met over pub food--hearty sandwiches and dark beer in a historic part of Spokane one slushy January afternoon.
She told me a story about her hometown where a group of women friends gathered every month near the full moon. She recalled how they told enthusiastic stories about drumming, singing, celebrating but never once invited her to participate. The exclusion was deliberate and undeniable for reasons she couldn’t understand. She eventually moved away, knowing that one day she’d find a tribe of like-minded women with whom she could celebrate lunar energy.
I imagine every artist creates a self portrait sooner or later, despite their medium or any physical resemblance to the artist recognizable in the final result. After all, as we were manifested at the will of the Creator, we too are innately driven to recreate in our own image, whether by bringing children into the world, creating visual, written or musical art, or simply infusing our life and work with personal energy.
The paint is barely dry on this piece, and yet she has been in the making longer even than my Big Bang Goddess. She is, in fact, my first attempt in the acrylic medium and my first human figure if I don’t count the years of children’s stick figures followed by a lengthy period of cartoon like faces exploring the significance of eyebrow shape and placement to convey emotion.