About Me.

As John Irving once said, “Whenever possible, tell the whole story of the novel in the first sentence.” FreeCandy, 46 at the time, began her re-descent into art after being sent a dck pic.

 

I grew up on a farm and started out drawing things in nature like animals and barns and... BK shoes. As exciting as that was, I moved far far away from home to the magical land of university to study fine art photography under the exceptional tutelage of professors who challenged my small-town notion of what art is... or more could be. I experimented and dabbled in everything at my disposal like some kind of mad scientist. Finally coming to the conclusion that the Tooth Fairy wasn't real but she had great insight into the world.. and capitalism, I boldly moved to the city of my birth, Baltimore. (Obviously, for further real-life experiences, think... The Wire.) For absolutely no mysterious reason my art grew darker, more manic and grotesque. Remember Hatchetface from the John Water's film? That wasn't my art.. that was the face people made when they saw it and if you know Baltimore.. you know how accurate the big hair and misplaced gobs of makeup are. Longing for friendly faces, live music, art, culture and better weather I left Baltimore's wharf rat-filled streets and fell comfortably into Austin.

 

Making a new start full of just as many poor choices as wearing a fanny pack around Ireland and actually calling it a "fanny" pack... cause really that's what it is, right? I valiantly tried my hand at being a butcher, a baker and a candlestick maker. Seriously though, why doesn't anyone want to pay 10 dollars for a loaf of bread? If they had any idea how much love and science goes into that... I would still be spending my days covered in white handprints. These were not failed ventures or wrong paths just skinny dark alleys that I had to see where they led.

 

Well, now I'm back! FreeCandy the Artist Part Duh: This time with a penchant for... well, everything/anything. That's right, I'm about to grab this artistic bull by the gonads and hang on for dear life while it twirls and kicks away.. and this time I'm doing it as me. The REAL me, the me who slyly plucks out a wedgie in one fell swoop as I stand up from a cushy chair in an act so suave you'll think, "She's smooth, I can't believe she's not butter." Artisanal butter... not that cheap stuff that's only good for...well...nothing.

 

Love always, FreeCandy

PS - Can I say I'm way more verbose than John Irving?