behind the artwork

A young woman sat on the curb—crying—after viewing The Scarlet Cord. A young man sat next to her with his arm tight around her. Five minutes later, they were still sitting on the curb, and she was still crying. So I decided to approach them.

Kneeling down, I asked the young woman, “Are you okay?”

She said, “I have a heart to help young children who have been abused. It is really terrible what some children experience.” She continued to cry.

The young man nudged her and said, “Tell her.”

A firm “No” came back. More tears followed.

“Our stories may be different, but hurt is universal,” I said, pretending not to notice the telling conversation that just occurred. “My artwork is about redemption. A fresh start. I couldn’t paint like this if I hadn’t experience deep wounds myself. The artwork is about healing. You have a beautiful and tender heart. It would be really wonderful if you could reach out to hurting children and help them regain hope.”

We talked a bit more about my art. Then I said something about how this may be my last year doing large exhibitions. The young man said, “You could still do something smaller. That would still help others.”

“I’m not sure about that,” I said.

This wasn’t the time or place to discuss my art challenges. Maybe he was right. Maybe not. For the last several months, I had been thinking about quitting my art journey. It had been quite a ride. I had lots to be thankful for. But the challenges had been overwhelming. I felt tired. Depleted.

He quickly interrupted my thoughts. “But something keeps bringing you back. Like you said, ‘Hurt in your life reaches out to others in a healing way.’”

His insight surprised me. The young man had just counseled the artist. I smiled and gave them both a hug. Our conversation pictured the ebb and flow of life. I intended to reach out to this young couple but, in a strange way, they ended up encouraging me. Their youth and innocence warmed my heart. Perhaps all three of us experienced renewal. The conversation had brought healing. As we parted, the young lady and the artist felt a new sense of hope, and calling.

After viewing The Scarlet Cord at ArtPrize, a young teen fell into my arms. I held her and drew her head close as she cried.

A couple of minutes later, she pulled away and, then, she quickly embraced me again. Her words tumbled out so quickly that a couple of different times I had to retrace her story to gain understanding of the deep heartache that gushed out.

At 13, she had been raped by an older adult and another teen. A couple of years later she encountered another abusive relationship. Pain and devastation marked her young life.

Our conversation shifted as we began to discuss healthy strategies and specific steps she could take towards healing and restoration. For starters, I commended her for her courage to talk about her sexual exploitation. We discussed options on how to build healthy boundaries with men.

I gave her a phone number of a professional counselor who could help her. I also encouraged her to tell a trusted family member about the traumatic events she had suffered. We also talked through whether or not to contact the police about the sexual crimes committed against her. “Don’t tell anyone” threats had been controlling her.

Finally, I mentioned how a football coach doesn’t put an injured player back into the game until the physical injury has been healed. In the same way, I said that dating may not be a healthy choice for her until she experiences more healing. She agreed.

After carefully reviewing how the sexual crimes committed against her weren’t her fault, we touched on her struggle with shame. A 45-minute conversation at ArtPrize didn’t solve all the struggles this beautiful young woman was facing, but as we parted, she seemed determined to take some positive steps. When we embraced one last time, it was with a light-hearted hug.