Meet Kisma

As a child I drew images on the wall at night when I was supposed to be going to sleep or on my sister's back to help put her to sleep.

On lazy summer days the sky was a big canvas as images would emerge in the clouds or the spaces between them. In those days, sticks were paintbrushes in mud or sand.

At grade school during recess I would draw girls with long hair ending in flip curls. The other school mates wanted their "doll" and would form lines, waiting their playground time away to get one.

I doodled in diaries, later journals, later travelogues, finally in art journals. In high-school I molded clay, making my own set of ceramic dishes for my hope chest. I designed and made my own clothing and eventually, I began washing the sunset and sunrise in watery colors across pages because they were so beautiful they made me cry.

For years I "painted" with pieces of fabric stitched together to create postcard quilts. 

I explored the many pigments of the earth, mixing them with mediums to use to paint sacred shields, rattles, drums and then faces with moon blood. 

Full moons filled me with light. The sacred Faery mounds of Ireland conjured ancient symbolic memories awake. I painted pictures through the words of my books, illustrating what was inarticulate-able and guided kindred spirits into the Otherworld with visions I described for them. 

The mystic swirled around me like gypsy skirts and shawl fringe flaring out in spiral dances of inner visions as my hands finally grabbed hold the wooden handled bore bristled brushes which I plunged into vibrancy and spread across canvas, paper, wood, anything I could get my hands on including cardboard box panels and torn shopping bags.

The rhythm of the ocean, the brilliant colors of sunset, the feeling of the sand against my bare feet truly ground me always into the core of my life. From this I will always be filled with renewed inspiration. From this my artistry in whatever form will flow. From this I share my creations.

I Matter. I AM enough.