I’m not a horsewoman. I didn’t grow up around horses nor did I obsess about getting one as a child. Truth be told, they sometimes scare the living daylights out of me. So much so that it seems odd then that I’m fearless standing out in the open photographing horses running towards me, but I’m good with it, as long as there is a camera in my hand.
When I photograph horses I’m aware of their power and feel that anything is possible—that my life is free from any and all restrictions. I haven’t always felt this way, it’s only in the last several years that I have explored why I’m so drawn to these intrinsically and stoically beautiful animals. I’ve discovered it’s something about their gracious spirit that strikes a purely emotional nerve deep in my psyche.
Of course, they are mystical, magical and iconic and have been depicted in artwork throughout history starting with the cave dwelling of megalithic times.
My work is created by making multiple layers and slowly building up the surface with wax and pigments—using bold brush strokes and playful drips to create paintings full of gesture, spontaneity, and motion. It’s a labor-intensive process where the photographs are printed on tissue paper in multiple pieces, and then carefully embedded into the layers of hot beeswax.
I get lost in creating work that reveals itself the more you look at it. I find that reality is overrated. It’s what you make of it and how you interpret it through the creative eye that counts. When photographing and working with horse images I realize that my passion, emotion, and personality are allowed to shine through in a myriad of ways. I guess, each image I make really becomes a self-portrait—like the mythological Centaur—becoming one with their power, strength and beauty.