I do not measure up to my idea of a “good woman” or my idea of an “ideal feminist.” My upbringing taught me that “good women” are gentle, submissive, and selfless, but since accepting the label “feminist” I have struggled to reconcile what I imagine feminism to be with the life I have chosen. What if decisions that would please my family are unfaithful to the feminist cause I support? My work results from misgivings I have about my internal monologue and conditioned behavior.
To relay this apprehension, I paint places at once consoling and confining. With a subdued palette, I create disquiet depictions of muted wallpaper patterns, rocking chairs, and windows into homes orderly and uncomfortable, nostalgic and regretful. In these spaces, comfort is an illusion that one clings to, thinking it will eventually lead to lasting happiness.
When people find order and stability, they often anchor themselves to it, even when their comfort is not that comfortable. People remain in situations and relationships that are not good for them because it takes more effort to leave than it does to stay. An environment that feels secure at first may over time become confining, stifling, or claustrophobic. My paintings show how silence can be comforting in one moment but deafening in the next.