This past summer my childhood home and the surrounding area burnt to the ground in the Carr Fire. It’s extremely hard for me to put my vulnerability out there, but I’ve realized in order to tamp into my true self I need to. What devasted me about losing this house is that I haven’t spoken to my father who raised us in this house in over 21 years. I’ve always been very guarded about the whole thing. My dad still owned the house with his new family when it was lost. I left Redding when I was 18; I married young. Too young. I look back now and know I was trying to escape. Since I left I’ve only visited a few times. My sis and her family still live up there too. I couldn’t explain it until now why I couldn’t go home. I just knew it hurt too much. That town and house held so many memories for me. I guess I always thought I’d be able to see my old house, my room, my tree swing, the old cemetery me and my brother used to hike to in the hills of Old Shasta, my tree fort, Mr. Hardt’s Property where I pretended I was a professional cyclist-taking a tumbler in my bike that I still have the scar on my knee. But all of it is burned and gone. All the trees are gone.

So, since the fire I have felt huge growth as an artist. Quite a big boom. I can see on all my old pieces what needs to be done. I cannot work fast enough. I know when I get blocked I just need to look at the photo my sister sent me of our old fireplace standing among the ruble. I started the layout of painting this old fireplace today. The one we hung out Christmas stockings on. The one I sat on a day before I left for my life in Southern California. I have the photo of me sitting on my brothers lap on it. So I’m painting this for me. As a reminder. A reminder that, that grief is a part of me. That I can go home still; even if I have no home. It’s still in my heart.

Note: I am remarried, the first one didn’t work out

This is just the start....

48x48 heavy texture