The weight of another’s hands on my head has been a constant at the significant moments of my life. Often my father’s hands. Always a man’s hands, ordained with the power of God. In 2015 the familiar weight of hands graced my head as I waited for my patriarchal blessing, a glorified fortune which I believed would provide me all the answers to life. A paragraph was dedicated to my need in finding a worthy husband and my divine duty as a wife and mother. Weeks later the Supreme Court legalized gay marriage. Months later the Church of Jesus Christ of Later Day Saints created the November 2015 Policy declaring gay couples as apostates subjected to excommunication and prohibiting their children from being baptized in the church until adulthood and under the condition that they denounce “same sex attraction”. Days later I crossed out every “he”, “him”, “his” and “husband”  in my patriarchal blessing and penciled in “they”, “their”, “theirs” pronouns and “spouse”. I’m disappointed to say that hands would grace my head again in claim of discernment from God, the same discernment that broke so many hearts. 

My artwork reflects my perception of the real, my acknowledgement and acceptance of the isms and dark history and present of a religion I was so devoted to. I long to create something devastatingly beautiful, not to glorify the bad but to illustrate the resilience and strength of those harmed by my religion, including myself. I want to create art to educate others and offer a safe environment to share those experiences that have not been heard or refuse to be heard. My art is my testament of an individual's state of mental health in a high demanding religion and I hope to invoke opportunities for solutions and change. To achieve these goals, I create a story line filled with symbolism that can be subtle and overlooked at first glance or emphasize portraiture that is emotional and feels heavy to the viewer.