5035 W. 10th Ave.
39.7334259,-105.0517026
My childhood home is gone. It still remains a constant source of inspiration for me, like it has throughout my entire life. It has always shown up in my dreams. It is the one place on Earth that has felt like “home” and if I didn’t know better, I would swear to you it’s blood runs through my veins.
It has appeared in my work in oilcloth, paper, watercolor, digital drawings, pencil, journal entries, and now surface patterns. I took photos of the trees and the yard on my last few trips to Denver. I was mindful on these trips that it was probably the last time I would sleep in the home I grew up in. These last visits were so precious as I went to care for my parents before my dad passed, then when he did, to support my mom as she transitioned to life without him, and finally when she sold the property and moved into a new place she loves.
Now 5035 has been razed after 53 years of my family caring for and living our best lives inside its walls. The place where all of my childhood milestones occurred, the plants and out-buildings that my parents cared for are gone. And I’m having a lot of feelings about it.
Sadness. Anger. Sorrow. Grief. Gratefulness.
So, I am capturing what I can remember in sketches and drawings of this little westside house and making a body of work from the memories. This process is hard and it still makes me cry. It probably always will. But…
And I’m quite excited about what is appearing.
