Baker Artist Portfolios

If I could, I would use the very blood I bleed to paint my own canvas. My tears would wet my brushes.
Growing up in South Carolina, I was raised by my great aunt and uncle. I always had this itch to take things apart and put them back together, but in my own twisted way. I loved reading about Frida Kahlo. I loved how she painted her emotions, her dreams, and even her nightmares. Her imagination, her mind, was twisted like mine. Each stroke was imbued with inspiration from her. There was nothing wrong with me at that age, I think. I was happy, but I was lonely, wishing for my mother. But you know what they say, be careful what you wish for.
Shortly after I turned 11, I was moved to New Jersey with my mother and her new family. It was rough. My happy life became dark and filled with the labor of having to raise three brothers, her sons. I grew up too fast, against my will, and for a long time was unappreciated for the unwilling sacrifice that was made. There was even growing resentment from my mother. Can you imagine the first person to tell you that they hate you being the person who gave birth to you? I honestly did not know how much more I could take.
My work became my retreat. Art class was my sanctuary, where I got to dibble and dabble in different mediums. Art became how I survived, how I imagined a future beyond what I could see. My skills were good enough to take me to college in Baltimore, my big escape from that house of horrors.
Today, I am an eclectic artist working with literally anything I can get my hands on. Paint, clay, beads, fabric, and more. It does not matter what it is, because everything I touch turns to gold. These days, I am working on making my art pop off the canvas, literally, while remaining rooted in spiritual healing and self-expression, for myself and for anyone who encounters it.
Tatiana