by a desire to engage in the feast of the creative process, the communion of conversation, and the actions of love, I live my work. It is always a reflection of my mind, heart, and soul.
I invite others to lean deeply; finding their own story within each piece.
Artist and Poet;
I draw my words. Zappa painted music; I write drawings. Contemporary figurative work with my body as model, and Spirit as guide. Plein Air micro-painting and poetry; intimacy a sense of place.
I use the creative process to connect people; one piece of art at a time, and engage Creative Conversations with organizations and institutions.
Empowerment & Advocacy Speaker.
I survived sustained abuse, cancer, and now live within the new norm of a systemic, neuromuscular disease. Life is a passionate dance of experience, prayer, struggle, questioning, and joy.
I am the house poetry built.
Drawing my words within observation I find truth, and in truth, I find the transcendent stories of building beauty in our world.
I have been writing and drawing since I could hold a crayon. Family folklore says that I made my brother teach me to write the alphabet, and the rest is history.
I did not know I would grow up to be an artist and poetic. Mathematics; my aptitude.
No, I secretly recorded my fears, my secrets, and my dreams; taping them to my body, underneath my clothes. I then discarded them in alleyway dumpsters for safety.
In 2005, I installed Bearing the Burdens of the Father, at St. Stephens Episcopal Church. I was asked to speak. A woman said to me, “Your drawings are so painful I want to look away. They are so beautiful that I cannot stop looking.” Then she walked right up; gently swiping her fingers across the charcoal.
I communicated; beyond word and image we connected. This is the guttural purpose of my work. Whether out in the landscape or in my studio, I continue to work toward my goals in advocacy and art.
For more, read my piece We are Individuals, published in Crossin(G)enres, October, 2017
The art of storytelling
where line quality is created out of experience, and composition emerges as the woven words of a heart’s beat.
Anxious and methodical lines of reflection and observation, the pieces move and have their being within the context of their environment.
in which holes of raw-truth appear and disappear through layers of sanded and burnished paper.
is rubbed into every pore until it smiles. Rips are stitched together with threads of prayer.
From campfire charcoal to ink created out of special moments; it is the pure joy of feeling the grit-cool earth between your fingers.
Fragile and strong
paper echoes the vulnerability and resilience of the human soul. It slips between the thin spaces in our lives and emerges as beauty out of ash.
paint much love, always,
Connie Karleta Sales
a.k.a. This Crooked Little Flower