Minimalism. In a bright world of white or beige walls, simple monochromatic paintings, children in matching plain dresses playing with plain and wooden toys, almost sterile-looking homes, and easy cleanliness, suddenly comes myself and other artists to eff up each of these things. Maximalism? Probably. More like the direct rejection of daily minimalism through color, sound, texture, freedom, difference, and choice.

Hair in a messy bun that has somehow fallen to the right side of my head. Yesterday’s makeup that I failed to wipe off. It’s a wonder that I quickly showered and brushed my teeth. My black paint clothes carelessly tied and buttoned onto my body. I am ready.

Crappy craft paint tubes littered the front yard. If you were to look under the tree in the front of my house on any given day during the summer, you would see about ten children under the age of twelve, each with acrylic paint quite literally up to their armpits. I Gotta Feeling by the Black Eye Peas was played to full volume, and some of the kids are bobbing along as they begin to paint up their legs. There you would see visions of rainbows, flowers, and superhero symbols done to the best ability of an elementary school student. This is where my love of body art really took off.

Those that have been in my life for even a short amount of time know that I have a bipolar disorder, as I tell everybody all the time. I joke that I even will tell a stranger that I plop down next to on the bus. It is not all of me, but it affects me, somehow, in every way.

There was a time in which the very thought of creating made me want to barf. I learned a lot as I grew the desire to paint again.

I had the copy of my neuropsychological testing in my hand. “Ms. Cox meets criteria for a diagnosis of Mild Neurocognitive Disorder, given cognitive deficits revealed on testing in global attention, memory learning and retention, and aspects of executive function which represent declines from previous abilities.” I learned very quickly afterward how that would affect my creation.

Creating the phoenix, a symbol of resilience and rebirth, meaning everything as I attached it to the idea to my mental health and gifted it to the professionals that help me most.