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”. I haven’t ever felt that way anywhere else I have lived.
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 before my dad died. 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 then supported my mom as she transitioned to life without him and the home they cared for for over five decades.
Now 5035 is gone. The place where all of my childhood milestones occurred. The plants and out-buildings that my parents cared for are gone. And I’m still a lot of feelings about it.
Sadness. Anger. Sorrow. Grief. Gratefulness.
So, I capture what I can remember in sketches and drawings of this little westside house and am 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.
