Holly Connors, Artist Holly Connors, Artist

ARTIST STATEMENT

 

I grew up in the projects on the poor side of a city in RI.  We were dirt poor, and there were five kids in our house.  I was the baby.  There was little money for food and clothes much less toys and extras.  My stuffed dog Clem and my imagination were all I had, but they were all I needed. And despite all the poverty and all the want, I don’t recall a single bad memory.


In fact I credit the lack of manufactured play things with forcing the development of my creative mind.  I found joy in simple things then, just as I do now.  Fireflies.   Buttercups.  The smell of sheets that were fresh off the clothes line.  I was inspired by nature, by lightning storms, by my father’s woodworking creations and by stories of my great-grandmother’s Native American heritage. I recall that my first true artistic creation came when I was just nine years old.  The circumstances that surrounded it, I believe, were to be my ‘crystallizing experience’.  I remember it vividly.  I had drawn an antique car and shown it to my older brother.  He snatched it from my hand and tore it up while insisting snidely that I hadn’t drawn it.  I couldn’t have.  It was too good--too perfect. Plus I was a girl.  What did I know about cars?  


I should have been angry that he destroyed the picture, but I wasn’t.  I was elated.  He didn’t believe that I was the one who had drawn it.  But I had.  And I could do it again.  And I knew it. 


That was the precise moment in time when I became aware that I had a special gift.  I understood what I was to do.  Time passed and by high school I had art works displayed in local businesses and had already won some local awards.  Then life happened.  Children came.  It was time, I was told, that I grew up and got a real job.  So I did.  Made lots of money too, but I was always miserable.  Something was always missing.  Everything I did was void of life. I continued to explore various forms of artistic expression when I could--in the few instances that time would allow a working mother of three young children--all the while growing more and more weary with my  increasingly stagnant life.  Then in 1993 I was given a set of acrylic paints and some brushes for Mother’s Day.  By the end of the day I had painted my first landscape.  My husband was in awe.  He didn’t believe I had painted it.  But I had.  And I could do it again.  And I knew it.


I changed careers once again, became a foster care provider which allowed me to stay home with my kids and help a few more.  For the next weeks and months while the kids were in school, I practically lived in the small utility room where I was confined to do all my painting--emerging only to get more coffee.  At times then, and still now, even I was in awe of what came out of the end of that paint brush.  I was in love.  I’d found my purpose again.  I’d found my joy.


Today I continue to find that same intense joy in, and I try to project that joy into, each piece I create.  The painting “the Dance” (shown on the Original Art & Prints page of this site), inspired by my Penobscot great-grandmother Clara Martel, depicts an attitude of unstoppable joy toward this extraordinary world and its inhabitants--no matter what happens, good or bad.  There is always reason to dance! We are all in this great big dance together.  And when we work together harmoniously, it’s a beautiful thing.   To find that harmony, however, each person must find and be true to his or her own joy. 


The Dance is the first in a series entitled “The Spirit of the Trees.”  Midnight is the second.   Winter--a special time of year where everyone must rely on each other to survive will be the third.    All together, I have plans for 12 in the series at this time.  Each will be available in giclee print, all signed with Authenticity certificates.  6 A.M. was Inspired by a trip to Utica, NY, and by seeing hundreds of farms along the way.  I focused on the American Farm family--in all its beauty and simplicity.   Do you remember that?  Simplicity?   Back before iPods and Wii’s?  Back when kids were <gasp!> forced to use their imaginations?  I do.  Clem, my stuffed dog, does too.


Sometimes I wonder if we were better off before the invention of many of our modern-day “conveniences.”  Back on those farms, life remains a little more simple.  Families don’t have time for video games.  They still spend time together doing the chores, cooking, celebrating the simple things in life--like a good rain after a dry spell.  When was the last time you celebrated the rain?  When was the last time you noticed a spider weaving its beautiful, intricate web?  When was the last time you heard, really heard, the crow cry in the early morning hours. I hope to bring you there again.  I hope that my creations touch a part of you that you’d forgotten about.  I hope you find your joy through these works.