Golden Bough Studio

by Theresa Richardson Crubaugh

Current Theme: Psychedelic

Welcome to my website! I hope you will enjoy looking at my artwork. Please, feel free to send me comments. (All artwork is copyrighted.)

Contact, Comments, Questions, etc.

It’s Now A Blog …

I swear I have been working. One thing that happened and may be adding into my psychological mind is my husband’s aunt passed to the other side. I loved her as if she were my aunt, not through marriage. She joins her husband. He walked me down the aisle at my wedding to give me to his nephew. Their daughter created the sweetest wedding reception at her home including a golden retriever trying to eat our cake. (I love dogs. Ok, I love all animals.) So, enjoy the latest creations.

“Glorification” is about being on the other side, shedding all ills and shining your light. I love this one, but I want it vibrant, too vibrant for printing. It’s a problem I have. I love bright vivid colors so much! “At the Other Side” is of course connected to our aunt who died. This image also is connected with my aunt who was also my godmother. She honored me to be with her as she was crossing over. “Death and Decay” should be understood. Patior, pati, passus may need a bit of explanation. It’s the Latin word meaning to suffer. (I taught Classical Latin, my other love.) It’s where we get the word passion. As a girl raised in the Roman Catholic Church, I always wondered about its use “the Passion of Christ”. It makes sense knowing its origins. But we use the work passion for what we love to do. It leads to the understanding that our passion is what we love so much that we are willing to suffer for it.

December 6, 2025: Where did the time go? I was a bit busy dealing with physical therapy, health insurance, attending the opening at Woman Made Gallery in Chicago, and contemplating my next direction. Currently, I will stay with Psychedelic as my theme. So, now it’s time for a photo upload. I hope you’ll like it.

Still from December there are my stuck-on sunflowers from the last few weeks … (And yes, I will need to wean.)

November 3, 2025: Boy did October fly by! This last week I was trying to fix the frog from months ago and play with some ideas. Nothing spectacular was created but the frog looks much better.

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October 26, 2025: It looks like I have missed two weeks of posting, however, the creativity continues. I finally admitted to myself that I am a Surrealist Photographer/Artist. It’s all but written in stone. With that realization, I’ve been reading and thinking about where it’s all going. Tons of creative ideas have been racing through my brain. Today I did more still life photography with the hope of bringing my thoughts into this odd reality. And I am thinking about “story board” pages so, when I see a picture and it needs to pair up with others, I can set that aside to complete whatever my current thoughts are on. Then I can go back to it later.

I’ve also noted that it’s the end of next season’s work (2026). And it is time to begin 2027, as I struggle to afford printing my art (2026). One of my submissions for Woman Made Gallery in Chicago has been chosen for the Small Works Members Show to start my year off right. It opens Saturday, November 22, 2025.

October 11, 2025: By Thursday I was sure I wouldn’t be able to top the last images for the theme, Psychedelic. It was as though I was saying this chapter is finished. I still believe I have more to go on this theme so, I will need to refer to this one as Psychedelic 1. I started playing around with the idea of a Psychedelic 2. Nothing great came out. For all I know, next year’s theme is not Psychedelic 2 but a theme yet to present itself. I will need to play around for a bit. What I do know is that my work has upped a notch. That makes me happy. So, enjoy the few I have here.

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October 5, 2025: The creative bug was trucking along until I got news from the doctor. My discs are acting up, and I will be starting physical therapy next week. I really think I’m getting prepared for a European trip, physically. Financially, it’s a dream but that’s what I am telling myself. So, here are this week’s attempt to create.

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September 28, 2025: I would say no creating happened this week, but the taking of a photo is the basic creating work. Who knows if I will use them? I suspect I will since I took them despite being in pain. I suspect I pulled my glutes a few weeks ago. Why did I go take pictures while I was in pain? Because the harvest has started and it won’t take them too long to empty all the fields. I have some ideas to work on in the near future. So, I need some before they are harvested photos.

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September 22, 2025: Sorry I’m late uploading. This last week was frustrating, so the creativity waned a bit. This week appears to be heading towards more of the same. If nothing much happens creatively, I will upload in two weeks. It’s only Monday, so who knows?

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September 14, 2025: I’ll be sharing some various versions of the same basic images and others. Will I use any of them for a show? Maybe. A reminder for you, all work is copyrighted whether they end up in a show, or not. Should you be interested in any of my work, please, contact me. So here we go:

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September 7, 2025: Here are my newest creations:

Addiction is the problem I am trying to deal with. So far, I’ve failed. But I’m not giving up. In Binary, you are starting to see a picture that reminded me of an early language like Linear A, Linear B, or Viking Runes ending up with my version of computer binary code. This week I used that early Linear looking picture as my symbol for the written language. By combining it with other photos each was given a different meaning. Mourning without Communication Skills is meant to symbolize how my lack of communication skills created a gut that is, to this day, unable to digest well. (When I was 16, it was called a spastic colon. Today it is called an IBS.) And lastly, Moonflower Sight, instead of language being emphasized, has eyes for its stamen. I do believe plants are sentient beings. I talk to our large Catalpa tree all the time. And yes, I’m a tree hugger when possible.

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August 21, 2025: This past week’s creativity started off hot then died by the end. Here they are:

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August 24. 2025: Not the most creative week. It was more about thinking of future shots I want and/or need. I did finally get the teapots printed in 4×6. The frogs on some of the pots need to be redone, if I want to use them. Anyway, here are a few that came out so-so.

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August 16, 2025: I went crazy this week. I think it is because school starts Monday. (In my other life, I’m a substitute teacher.) So, in my mind, I won’t be able to create that much and I’ll need to come back to a semi-normal person. Ironically, this summer I was trying to let my insane artist out. I almost got to the psychological point I was in college during my art degree. I still want to aim for that but subbing might get in the way. But ya’ gotta have money to make art. Anyway, this was the teapot and teacup week which I suspect will continue for a while. It was also photograph this thing, that thing. As the year continues I will be weeding out a lot of the photos below. You get to see the step before weeding, as well as, the progression of creating. What if I change colors? What if I change the position of this thing? What’s my message with this picture? What if I change the order of layers? There are a lot of what ifs involved.

August 9, 2025: I was hoping I could have 3 new works per week. I knew that was silly. This week I managed to get 1 that I like but am unsure if it will pixelate. I have two other versions that are lighter, just in case. Other than that I’ve been going through self-portraits to find more eyes. And I’m beginning to look at noses and mouths too. I’m back to working on the odd eye picture again. I’m trying to keep them all from my own self-portraits. Now I understand why we always had that assignment. You never know when you’ll need to use one. If anything, looking back at myself has made me realize I was goofy to think I was too fat, too ugly. So here is the lonely 1 piece of artwork.

August 3, 2025: Here is what I hope will be a weekly upload. Some are finished, some are not, and some may never be finished. This is turning into more of a blog. But it is helping me see my progress and that is very important.

Just a small upload from the other day. I need to choose one at some point. The original was what I saw in my mind, not realizing I was creating a pun. The pun only hit me when I was naming it. It’s not my first pun. My brain likes puns.

But then I wondered what would happen if I used patterns from other photos I’ve shot. I’ve narrowed them down to two but I still love the original (the last photo). Which one do you think is the best?

The images keep coming, at what feels like a snail’s pace, but I just wanted you to see I’m still working continuously. Again like the last entry, they may be perfectly the way I want them, or (most likely) they need tweaking and I need to choose one version over another. I may by accident add in some from the last upload. Sorry for all repeats.

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I’ve entered three of my photos to Woman Made Gallery for the 8th Midwest Open. I won’t know if any of the three have made it in until July 18th. I’m sure the competition will be tough. So, I’m only hoping and reminding myself that Van Gogh had to have his brother open a gallery to get his work seen. In other works, you can be a brilliant artist and still hear a negative reply. (I’m not saying I’m brilliant, just attempting brilliance. You don’t get anywhere unless you keep trying.)

I finally condensed my thoughts into a working purpose for my art, though ignoring the connection to my traumas which occurred during this period of American history.

In a world filled with ultra conservatism, racial discrimination, and anti-feminist judgements I am drawn back to our nation’s answer to the 1950’s, the 1960’s. I have been drawn to “acid rock” as well as psychedelic art to handle the insanity. I never did lose the belief that love is where it’s at, that equality is part of that struggle to love, and freedom for all is our goal. We must stand up for each other. Be kind to each other. Accept each other as equals because we are equals! There is no room for kings or dictators in a democracy and our forefathers fought against ever having a king rule us again. Our fight is to reset this historic anomaly, to return towards love, to be treated as the equals we are, and to be free! 

Comment on the new work: I’ve discovered a problem with the way I distort my photos. Each distortion removes the sharpness of the photograph. I have been going back through my various pattern photos and resharpening each. And there is a problem with intense color, as well. Intense colors tend to pixelate. I’ve been busy reworking both problems. Those problems only showed themselves on larger prints. The first two black and whites below may take ages to fix. I’ve been working with one newer worked combination which is still not complete at this date. I’m calling “Eyes”, so far. My goal is to enter various eyes into each black hole. The decision has not yet been made about the type of eyes. And the blending in of each eye needs to be closer to the black and white background. At least, I’m learning more about the digital side of photography. I’m also very aware that there is a down side to using film that is then digitalized. But even that is improving with each use. The down side is that I can’t just createan image by playing around with it’s combinations but need to pay attention to each distortion, each intense color use, each blending of images, etc. And that takes a lot more time. So, please, be patient for new work.

Some Close Creations but not completely acceptable as is at the moment. Some may never be worked on again because the image is not quite acceptable for one reason or another. Others may be used if I decide to clean them up, make minor or large changes to them, If anything, you, the viewer, will know my art does not happen with one attempt. Especially, now that I am more aware of the many problems my work can encounter. Sometimes the corrections can literally be pixel by pixel. (Names on the following may end up changed if/when they become finalized.)

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Text on the New Work and Redirection

The work I’m sharing is still going through modification. Something has clicked inside of me by listening to acid rock from the 60’s and 70’s. I said listening, not taking acid. I never have needed any drugs to alter my consciousness. It just happens naturally. With the world turning up on it’s head, I just felt I needed to escape for a bit. After days of listening to “In-Da-Gadda-Da-Vida” by Iron Butterfly, Janice Joplin, Donovan, Pink Floyd, Jimi Hendrix, Moody Blues “-R.I.P. RAY THOMAS-LEGEND OF A MIND (TIMOTHY LEARY’S DEAD)-1968 – which cracks me up! I followed Leary’s former peer Ram Dass plus studied many religions including Wicca and Buddhism.
I needed to find God to give him a piece of my mind for taking my dad and then my sister four years later and leaving me with an a verbally abusive mother. How dare him! None of this made sense to me. Instead of finding God/Goddess/the Supreme Force, etc., I found myself. And within myself and all selves is that which is refered to as God.

While taking my breather with acid rock, I realized more about my art. The need for patterns I knew had come from my need for all this chaos to make some sense, a reason why. And I thought the reason I tend to use vibrant colors, I thought was to combat my depression. They are correct but there is an underlying reason, I listened to acid rock with my sister. She was five and a half years older than me and I suspect getting into the drug scene to deal with dad’s lose. I was also loving the hippie movement artwork. I am reliving those memories just before she died in my art. I believe my next direction is to continue with the 60′ and 70’s acid rock art. So, I have begun creating the patterns and playing with color backgrounds. These are far from being done, I think. Here are some very early pieces being worked on. They can be moved horizontal too.

Sometimes Creating Goes Wrong:

There are times when things don’t quite work in life and art. Looking at my work on an 14″ computer screen does not always look the same as a large 18 x 24 print. “Broken” is fine and I think it perfectly expresses my mental health, or lack of it, perfectly. Those feelings of being broken started as a child after my father’s death. In 4th grade, a teacher I liked was handing out news of a “Father and Daughter Dance”. She started to hand me one and said, “Oh, you don’t get one. Sorry.” It would have been better if she had handed me one and not pointed out how different I was to all the other girls in my class. Even in the 3rd grade things were said that broke me. The nun during religion class would point out my father’s good fate to have been baptized and to be in heaven with God/Jesus. (I’m sure that didn’t help me in the long run with my relationship with God.) My thoughts turned to bargaining with God to try to get my father back. By 6th grade, my bargain was that I would become a saint, a perfect human being. I think we all know what happened. I found out I couldn’t be perfect. I’m human. I broke my promise with God and had no idea what to do next.

In 6th grade I received my Confirmation. It was taught that there were certain “abilities” that could be attained. Mine were already started. I had seen, at age 10, the rocking chair rocking with no one else in the house. I tried to ignore it and told no one. The summer between 5th and 6th grades, I was in the basement trying to better my cursive handwriting. I saw an outline that looked like my dad in shadow. I ran upstairs. This happened a few times. The last time I was in the basement reminding myself that there had to be a logical reason to see that shadow. So when I saw it again, I turned off all but one light and looked for something, anything, that would create the shadow. There was nothing! I ran up the stairs and into my mom. Her comment was, “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.” I yelled back at her that that wasn’t funny. I had just seen dad! She told me that his spirit was seen around the house by her and it was ok. It was dad. (Ok, we are all crazy!)

It was about this time that I had dreams starting to come true. Dad appeared nightly and told me everything would be ok. I needed those words that I heard mentally. And I started to have a repeating nightmare about my siser being dead. When she was murdered, I felt my soul having the center blown out. I died with her.

Add in the multiple experiences I added into “Broken” such as verbally being abused by my mother, whose words of “You can’t do anything right.” “Your stupid.” “I wish you were dead.” and the heaviest to try to get rid of … “If I could get out of this bed, I would go find the kitchen. I’d grab a butcher’s knife and come back to chop you up into little pieces. And I would stuff you back up me so, I could say you were never born.” And to add into all of that, my therapist and I believe she suffered from Borderline Personality Disorder. This disorder is genetically passed down, as well as, taught to the next generation. Lovely.

“How Many Must Die?”

It started with me trying to express that I died with my sister and became an all out hatred of gun violence. My sister was a victim of gun violence. I’ve had to deal with “active shooter” alarms in schools. I’ve had one former student die in an accidental shooting in front of her twin sister. Another student was killed by his father. Everyday I hear about another youth, good or bad, who was shot dead by gang violence or stray bullets. I know the pain each remaining family goes through. It’s senseless. If we could only have automatic weapons banned. If we could stop the open carry laws too. We are not in the wild west any more! The idea of the guns protecting us from a government gone awry or overtaking us is bologna! They have nukes, tanks, drones. Your automatic, semi-automatic, rifles, and pistols will not protect you. If anything, your family may end up accidentally dead. I don’t want anyone on the earth to experience that!

Oh, and there are the hunting groups … we hunt for food. That is understandable in Alaska’s wilderness and for Alaskan protection from attacking wildlife, I get that. But in the majority of the lower 48, the need to hunt or protect yourself from wildlife is becoming bull hockey. We already have chicken, turkey, pheasant, pig, and cow meat from farming. That should satisfy everyone. And farming practices … don’t get me started! I live in a rural area. I see first hand what goes on. At least in the UK they are trying to give their animals TLC before slaughtering them. I yell out to the cows in the area how I love them as I drive past. I want my steaks and hamburgers to have had a loving time before slaughter. (Please, note I am an omnivore, not a vegan, nor a vegetarian.) Let your animals enjoy life before slaughter and maybe the idea of praying over them, as the Jewish do, thanking them for their lives so we can live should be done too. It needs to be done over vegetables and fruit too! Science has been proving plants are living beings with feelings and families. Alright, I will end this rant here.

“Next is United States Uterine Slaves”

This is obviously my feelings and thoughts about the overturning of Roe vs. Wade. I remember the time before Roe vs. Wade. It was a time of free love and you are to remain a child until you are 18. Plus the conservative, religious beliefs that a girl must remain a virgin until marriage. It all clashed togerher. Reports were that girls and women were getting pregnant and aborting children with dangerous concoctions, or the use of clothing wires or knitting needles. Many ended up dead! It was happening so often that the only thing that could be done to save these women would be to legalize abortion. That way, at least, the already living female could see a doctor and have a legal procedure to end the pregnancy.

“It’s a sin!” shouted the churches and their conservative followers. “It takes away the father’s right to claim, or not claim, the child is theirs.” shouted the patriarchs. They were not thinking a female had rights to her own body and soul.

Women’s Liberation had begun! We finally had some rights! We were able to try to do the things men did. We took over as many jobs as we could and complained loudly that we weren’t paid the same. Confusion was what my era had. We were equal but still needed to do all the stereotypical jobs too. Some supportive males stayed home to take over those jobs. Our society was confused.(When were we not confused?) Some church groups bombed the abortion clinics to represent “the living fetuses”. But they were not representing the values of the churches. They killed people. The judged, though it is said not to judge. And they tried to force their believes onto others. (That doesn’t really work to their benefit.) They didn’t think about the child to be born. They still don’t think about the child born.

So now we are back to the past. our government and churches are trying to control our uteruses. We are SLAVES with that one part of our body. Equality would be the control of a man’s penis! And we would all be sex slaves to the US government. The only freedom for a woman would be to remove the uterus. Do we really want that as a solution?

Children need both parents, food, clothing, excellent educations, LOVE, and even VACCINES! To end up with productive lives in society. Single mothers need jobs to pay for the majority of these items and child care. Let’s face it, rarely does the pregnant woman end up with a man who would step up and be a good father. Many still avoid paying for their out of wedlock children. It’s a constant battle. It takes two, at least, to provide for a child until their 18th birthday. This means WELFARE is one of the keys needed to help poverty, or close to poverty, families. (The majority of our population is low middle-class or in poverty.) The recent pulling of student breakfasts and lunches proves the government doesn’t care about children. Then Medicaid being attacked adds to that opinion. “Oh, the churches will handle all these problems.”

Churches are limited by the generosity of their patrons. Food banks are not enough. Special holiday meals help but only for maybe a week out of 52 weeks. And then there is the need for mental health, not only for the child but for the parent or parents. Some are on drugs or drinking themselves into oblivion. The stresses of society, the judgment of society, the unequality of the classes, the unequality of the sexes, – it’s all too much to handle! The government will need to step up, the churches will have to step up. All of society will need to step up and into the lives of most women to help take care of the child, wanted or not. Only then can any say they are “Pro Life”, no matter their father, rapists or not, drug addicts or not, single parents or not.

I have yet to see the generosity of the populous appear for 24 hour, 7 days a week, care for each child. It will never happen with fear and prejudices present. So, let the females of our county be freed from this labor before the child is born. Empower those who decide to have the child, no matter the conditions it will be born into. Until there is full support, the only answers are 1) abortions 2) men keeping their penisses away from females they don’t want to have as wives 3) cutting off the penisses from the men impregnating more than one female 4) men stepping up and supporting and loving their unwanted children. PUT ROE VS. WADE BACK INTO LAW!

New Work!

New work has arrived for your viewing. I recently decided to attempt to get a photo into a show at Woman Made Gallery’s Photography Now show. Since I won’t know if they will choose my work for the show, and I won’t know which one they will choose, if one is chosen, I am sharing them here. They don’t follow my usual formula because this show is meant to be in your face.

I’ve also been in a whirlwind of discovery this last Winter. I found out there is a thing called generational trauma. I wondered how far back it would go. So, I took Ancestry’s DNA test and trult began my search. All I can say is that I came to my craziness, honestly, through an even more messed up family! My future works might be inspired by my family’s past. I’ve been playing around with that thought. Stay tuned!

Manipulated Color

My photography professor, Oscar Bailey. always encouraged us to try different things. My favorite memory of his teaching style was, “Mess up your negatives! Burn them! Then print them. Crack them! Experiment!” Though it took me decades to finally go digital, I followed his advice with Adobe Photoshop. As I was learning the program, I purposely crashed it. I play with it to see what may come out. I love combining things that mess up the order of seasons and/or items from differing places. After all, I am a mixed up mess from two very different states. And of course, I try to give my images some sort of rhyme and reason because even mixes need a bit of order. And the mixing I speak of also has to do with my mental state from too many traumas. Out of some mixes come delicious cakes.

I hope you will enjoy the slideshow.

B&W

Black and white is always an elegant choice to make. It has been popular throughout the history of photography. With these pieces most are straight shots. I try to be conscious of design when I’m shooting. I recently converted my college color negatives into digital B&W. I discovered that my biggest problem with color was to switch my brain out of B&W. I am planning to work more in B&W and am considering using film again since my film camera is a Minota with several excellent lenses. With the exception of this first image, all photos were shot in Livingston County, Illinois.

I hope you’ll enjoy this slideshow.

Older Color

Miscellaneous Media

Miscellaneous Media mostly contains my paintings. On occasion I dabble in other media.

I hope you’ll enjoy this short slideshow.

About

Graceful Bough Studio is being used as a way for others to see my work. Many galleries prefer artists to have a website. I admit websites are not my forte. The digital world is great but my generation is divided concerning computer skills. I know enough to be dangerous. But I do want to be in the gallery scene. So, here I am. Forgive me for the simplicity.

New work will be added when possible. Sometimes it takes me time to really figure out if an image is a keeper. So, there will be a section started soon with questional keepers. I’d love your feedback! And of course, your comments and questions will be answered. Let’s have a discussion about art!

How the Studio Got Its Name 

I concentrated on my husband’s last name. The “baugh” somewhere on the internet said “baugh” means “bough”. So, I took that as part of the name. As a former Latin teacher, I thought of the famous Golden Bough that Aeneas needed to find. His journey was going to take him into the Underworld (the world of the dead) but the bough would bring him out safely. It’s the path that all heroes to be, in literature, must take, the Heroes Journey. No, I don’t want to be a heroine. But I do feel I have spent so much of my life in the underworld with my family. I have been walking through it so long, looking for the exit so I can be alive again, happy again. Artwork, writing, inconsistent mindfulness, affirmations, therapy, prescribed medications, study of major religious paths, self-reflection, and currently learning about my crazy ancestry because they made me who I am are my multiple attempts to get out of the underworld, the depression, anxiety and mourning.  

Around the age of ten, alone in the house doing religion homework, I saw the rocking chair moving by itself. I thought there must be a logical explanation, maybe just my imagination. Later that year, while playing my dad’s records in the basement and practicing cursive on a hot day, I noticed a shadow resembling my father. I quickly ran upstairs but tried to convince myself it was nothing. I returned to practice, but the shadow reappeared, causing me to sprint up again. In August, I attempted to find a logical reason for the shadow using different lights, but as with the first time, there was nothing between them. I rushed up the stairs and ran into my mother, who asked, “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Not funny, mom!” 

“Have you?” 

“Yes! I think it was dad!” 

“Oh, he’s been here for a while.” 

I walked off thinking, “Great. My mom is nuts and so am I.” 

From then on, I would see him in various rooms or in the hall. He was no longer a shadow; he was dad as I had last seen him. And eventually, I could hear him in my mind. I also started having premonition dreams. The main one was of my sister being dead. In about a year, she was shot to death. Dad’s spirit went out the door with her that night. 

I am aware that psychology has names for all of this. And there are certain churches that think it comes from the devil. But my maternal grandmother, Grace, told me it was a gift from God; and I seemed to have these stronger than the rest of the family. But I didn’t want this “gift”. It led me on a path to get rid of it. Then to accept it. And as less of it has happened, a wish for it to on occasion still be within me more. 

And now you can guess where the “Graceful” in the name came from. Grace encouraged the artist inside of me. She was the rock in the family after dad’s death, the matriarch! She had class. She and I had tea every afternoon when I was a toddler. Our home was connected to hers. (Actually, she owned the entire thing. I found out later, it was the first mansion built on the bluff.) 

She was so encouraging that she even offered to pay my way through Ringling Art School. I turned her down. I didn’t understand how copying the masters was a good thing. It was the student show I had seen. I knew, instinctively, that you needed to develop your own style. I was also aware that artists towards the beginning of a new century can be the influence of the entire century. That was my original goal in my late teens/early twenties. 

Oh, and that money she offered ended up being used for her care. She was one month away from her 95^th birthday when she died. 

My Story

I was born and raised in Peoria, Illinois. My father was a firefighter. My mother was a stay at home mom. My sister, Rosemary, was 5 1/2 years older than me. And for a few years we lived next door to my maternal grandmother and my aunts. Early memories were the excitement I felt over a large box of crayons. I couldn’t believe there were so many colors in the world! After being told I couldn’t color the walls, I laid on my back and colored under the furniture. My imaginary friend was named, Melon, after the crayon color.

It was a “Leave It to Beaver” existence until August 1967. My father died. I didn’t understand the concept. “Daddy’s gone to see God” was the explanation. I figured he’d be home for supper. No one thought I was unable to mourn because they needed to show me. Nobody knew how to mourn.

Next, my mother became verbally abusive to my sis and me. It was bad enough that my sister was looking for the fastest exit sign. She got involved with a bad crowd. Mom also became paranoid. Someone was always listening at our door. I became a latch key kid. I started seeing my father’s spirit in the house and having premonition dreams – one that my sister was going to be dead soon. I got my first oil paints and canvas . And then it happened, Rosemary was murdered four years after our dad’s death. This left me with my verbally abusive mother. I never could do anything right and was so stupid! Four years later I was trying to commit suicide.

As a family we moved to Florida for my mental health. I needed to relax. I dropped out of school but took courses to get my GED. The last course I took was an art class. I lucked out! Mr. Miller had been an apprentice under Norman Rockwell. I was so frustrated by the movement of the sun while drawing. Mr. Miller urged me to get a good camera. He told me I had talent and needed to go on in school. I dropped back in for college with a Minolta SLR. I attended the local community college, then the University of South Florida. In my first photography class I had a light bulb burst in my head while rolling film onto a reel – this is my medium! I took class after class in photography until there weren’t any more. Professor Oscar Bailey signed off for me to take a master’s level course. In that course I created my first show, Greek Mythology: Through the Titans. The show was the last week of my senior year. I was offered $1500 for the entire show. I, lacking belief in myself and my work, turned the man down. However, a medical student came in and asked me if I knew what the arrow in the brain was pointing to. It was the Greek goddess Mnemosyne, the goddess of memory. The brain was combined with a family picture. My dad was the central figure. He told me the arrow pointed to a brain tumor. My dad died when a brain tumor burst in his head. Art became a way to deal with all that mourning!

It was about 13 years ago that I finally understood that I could have and should have sold the show and could have easily been in the gallery system after a few years. But my life took me down some interesting pathways instead. After several years working photo labs I decided I needed a better career. I turned back to USF and got a second Bachelor’s degree in Classical Latin along with education courses, so I could teach Latin. I bounced back and forth working in photo labs and teaching. I did teach art. I became a volunteer photographer and a freelancer.

In 2010, I got married and moved back to Illinois in 2011. The area does not offer Latin, so, I turned back into being an artist. I belonged to the local art gallery for several years. I sold artwork at the annual Moss Ave. Sale in Peoria from my mother-in-law’s house (located next door to the Frank Lloyd Wright) and got my paintings into Bloomington. I was able to get a found art piece into Chicago’s Woman Made Gallery in 2023 and became a member, as well. I am continuing to work my way into the gallery system as was my original dream. And I’m utilizing my creations to wade through the volumes of mental anguish, including that I am the end of my family.