Worlds Within My Mind

I hear voices in my head.  We all do—at least that’s what I tell myself.

I am bipolar.  The voices in my head are loud—they start as thoughts that then manifest themselves as audible, simultaneous personalities cohabitating in my brain.  

I used to think of these voices as invasive, detached from my being.  But I have come to accept that they are not alien—they come from me, are a part of me, and learning to harness these voices has given way to some of my better qualities.  

I have had to accept bipolar disorder as a gift—one that I did not want—dreaded, in fact—but was nonetheless bestowed upon me.  My adult life has been spent exploring the question: what does one do with such a dangerous and permanent gift? 

 

My art speaks to this journey.  It pushes boundaries. It conveys my familiarity with the edge.  I paint to capture the poles of our emotional capacity as humans, so vivid and vast that whatever lies just beyond is undoubtedly divine.

I am a self-taught artist.  What started as a method of occupying my mind during manic swings has become the way in which I make use of the voices in my head.  My paintings feel like alchemy—transforming chaotic, consuming energy into something tangible and beautiful.   

My art is largely acrylic on canvas.  It takes up space with bold colors, intricate patterns, sensual lips and soft, strong curves.  It celebrates the female form and the feminine divine.  It honors my demons.  

Ultimately, my dad says it best when describing my art—“She just paints whatever the voices in her head tell her to paint.”  Admittedly, it is a bit tumultuous, but alchemy always is.

 

Submitted by: Lindsey Weiss