Yes, I know that an artist who focuses on self portraiture can be mistaken for an unsavory narcissist. But I don't care.
Thread Self Portrait, 2. 2016. Hand embroidery on linen.
Why not my face as my subject? Why not my body?
Process shots. From sketch to stitching.
Why not take one aging, half-breed, childless, Latina divorcee and say, this is my subject? This is worth interpreting? These moods and lines are worth your gaze and the artist's time?
Scars, wrinkles, sags and all. I won't apologize or explain away a single one of these. And I have some gnarly scars, some gnarly sags.
Early purple stitching.
Part of it is lack of energy on my part. There are so many people out there. And so many things that they're protecting themselves against. In our highly curated world, our own image is worth a battle. And I don't feel the energy to go out there and ask for your images. To battle.
Because, here I am, at my own beck and call, ready to pose, expose and do whatever I tell myself to do. However weird. So why not use this particular model?
Show your giant scars around your entire torso. Done.
Bifurcated, 2016. Hand embroidery on linen.
There are are millions of faces and hips and lips out there to capture in stitch. But maybe aging, sagging, unapologetic half-breed women have been ignored. Especially if she is the artist.
Right now, this is my focus. If that makes me unsavory, so it goes. I'm unsavory. And I can live with that. (I promise that I'll never be mean, petty or dishonest.)
Rinsed, pressed and matted.
Here is my subject. Me. Without apologies.