“Her work tells stories with no words. Shoshi paints from a place of profound knowledge of the human psyche, and the honesty and realness of her work is visually tangible. Her dream-like paintings hang as the imagination in painted form.”
Imogen Parry ~ Artist & Curator
Painting for me has always been a form of therapy. I use art as a way to process my inner and outer worlds, believing that the canvas is a mirror and reflects everything perfectly.
Painting intuitively inspires freedom and heals those aspects of self that are trying to gain control. Letting go of the outcome is crucial to my process.
It can be daunting not knowing what, when and if any images are going to appear. The more I try and force an image to come out- the more chaos I cause. The more patience I hold and the more I steer my paintbrush with my heart (and not my head) the more space there is for magical truths to be revealed.
Sometimes I have certain creatures emerge onto my canvas but they don’t stay for very long. Sometimes their role is simply to provide me with knowledge or extra markings that will lead me to the next phase of my piece. Even though it is just paint and it is just an image, it can sometimes feel difficult saying goodbye.
If I get too attached to any particular image or creature, this can cause stagnation within my painting and this is when my story is unable to evolve the way that it is supposed to. I am constantly learning to accept that certain layers need to be released in order to make room for the new. Even though it can provoke feelings of loss, I know that it also means more room for hope and expansion.
I try my best in allowing my paintings to show me which way to proceed. I have to freely create markings and ask them to guide me, presenting me with what I should do next. I never think of an image and then create it…I see an image and then I do my best to follow it.
Painting teaches me to trust in the process of life and try my best to let go of any desired outcome. Painting teaches me to be curious instead of fearful of the unknown. If I always knew what my painting was going to look like, I would never get to experience a sense of wonder or surprise. Sitting in the discomfort of not knowing is vital to the unfolding. If we always knew what was going to be next or if we always had what we wanted in the blink of an eye, then nothing we experience or work towards would ever feel as meaningful or synchronistically beautiful.
The way I paint reminds me to come back into faith and trust… because if I do, it will only bring what comes towards me that much more exciting.
