I had the opportunity end of last year to create a largescale piece of art for an animal themed show at one of the galleries where I teach. When the call was made, I already had a canvas prepped and had been planning to do something centered around a jungle scene anyway. I decided to take the original idea further and come up with a concept that would fit the upcoming exhibit. From the beginning I’d wanted to represent all of my “big cats” in the jungle scene as female, and have the piece exude an essence of feminine strength, power, and courage. In the end, I had a lot of trouble coming up with a title when suddenly the word “Belonging” popped into my head and just wouldn’t leave.

So, I ended 2023 completing a piece about strength and courage, and in the first half of 2024 I had two people lend me the same book within the same week, The Gifts Of Imperfection by Brene Brown. I supposed that meant I should probably read it! Within the first 30 pages, I learned the important fact that I am actually courageous, a quality I may see in the characters in my art but that was never, ever a word I would have thought to apply to myself. The introductory chapter explains the root of the word courage in the original latin as deriving from cor, meaning heart – courage originally meant ‘to speak one’s mind by telling one’s heart’. As the chapter went on to delve deeper into that concept, I came to the realization that I have been courageous all along and just didn’t know it because I was defining courage by cinema standards.

I have often joked with people that I don’t do small talk, I only do big talk. I love being around people, but I have anxiety and some sensory issues (the main reason why I never thought the word courageous could ever apply to me by default), and so my social reserves get depleted quicker than maybe the average person. I need regular intervals of alone time to recharge. I’m not going to waste my precious reserve talking about whether it’s sunny or cloudy outside when you could just look out the window or stick your hand out the door and feel it. I don’t feel like describing the minutia of what I did all day, or answering any questions that only require one word like “fine”. I’m not opposed to being friendly and polite, but for the most part I don’t understand spending energy in conversation that adds nothing edifying to either person’s life. At times, this tendency has backfired. Some people don’t want to hear about the interesting dream you had last night and what you think it means, or to be asked what was the most fascinating thing they’ve thought about today, what was the most surprising thing they’ve seen this week – and that’s ok. Some people are uncomfortable hearing about anything that isn’t sunshine and rainbows, and seeing the raw emotions of the people around them. That’s where the courage part comes in I suppose, going deeper you risk rejection and ridicule.

I am an open book and always have been. I honestly think I don’t know how to be un-authentic so I don’t always even have a choice, it’s just how I work! Over the last 5 years especially I have been candid with people in my life about the inevitable beauty of life, and the accompanying chaos. Through virtual communication like this and other means I’ve shared my experiences even with those I don’t know that well. I don’t shy away from letting others know how I am doing, including when I am struggling. I have been open and honest about what I need when I’m not getting it, about the tough choices I’ve made that everyone might not like, about how my relationships are going. I’ve learned to be mindful, and to allow my openness to be paired with purpose and deliberation after some communication missteps. At the end of the day though, my sharing something uncomfortable that I’ve experienced can help others going through similar things, and also open the eyes of people who may never have given that experience a thought so that they can look at situations around them with compassion and curiosity, not judgement and condemnation. Reaching out and saying, I am struggling because I have been working so hard and still don’t feel like I belong anywhere is the only way there will be any hope of someone else reaching back and saying, ‘hey, I may know a place where you would!’.

I believe that is why that word “Belonging” was stuck in my mind after I stepped back and looked at my finished painting. I don’t think you can make a true connection with anyone if you aren’t willing to show all the parts of you. Belonging takes courage.

At the opening reception, a fellow artist came up to me and shared that her child had looked at my painting and said ‘That girl looks like she would play with me’. Sometimes our art knows what it wants to say before we do.