When ‘ experiencing ‘ art I often wonder if there is such a thing as silence in works of art? If noisy images are the signature of this world; silence is the music of the otherworld.
I practice one day of complete silence once a month and past couple years, have been practicing 9 days in complete silence. These are my moments of clarity – my detox – my going within.
9 Days.
No Phone.
No Talking.
No Social Media.
At first, it felt impossible.
Then, it feels like freedom.
Silence isn’t empty, it’s full of answers.
In that stillness, I began to notice more …
what I consume, what I create, what I leave behind.
And that awareness has been shifting not only how I live,..
A decade ago, I became a vegan artist, aligning my practice with compassion. This commitment runs alongside another path I’ve walked for decades — my 8-day silent fasts. Each time I return to silence, I uncover something more: about myself, about my art, and about the world I wish to honor through it.
For years, I never questioned the tools in my hand.
I didn’t think about the gelatin-boiled pig and cow parts that went into gessoed canvas.
Or the dried extract of bovine gall bladders that made watercolor paint flow.
The rabbit-skin glue that sized a canvas.
The paintbrushes of animal fur.
Sepia forced from squid.
Even the black of charcoal—born from bone.
Once I learned the animal cruelty behind so many art supplies, I couldn’t unsee it.
I cleared them out. Every last one.
Paint is simple at its core: pigment + binder.
Pigment is color in its rawest form, drawn from minerals, plants, and the earth itself.
I make my own pigments by hand. When you stand in nature and feel its colors stir something deep within you…
that’s the energy I want to capture.
Raw emotions. Raw materials.
I’m drawn to both.
