I guess I can get a tattoo after all. This series is about revisiting an old theme, a journey with unexpected twists and turns, ending with an epic epiphany of self-realization. A little over a year ago, I stood in a gallery and talked about the inspiration for one of my next projects. I had recently ran into an old friend, Claudia, who I hadn’t seen in ages. She asked me if I had painted any red ribbons lately, to which I replied, “huh?” Actually I nodded while saying something neutral with a hint toward the negatory Claudia, I have not. I later remembered I had indeed used a red ribbon in paintings as a symbol of passion, like the burning in the belly made manifest. My memory had me thinking of a time when I was neck deep in duties and chores and the caring and keeping of three little girls. I had this drive and passion to create and express, and a whole lot of frustration, feeling like I just could not get to it, like was sitting on my hands. I remembered the ribbon showing up small, like a side note, or wrapped around a figure, subtly strangling her. I adored my darling girls more than anything, and my desire to make art was burning a hole in my belly and I didn’t know what to do about it. And so now, my response to these memories was to make paintings from the perspective of the older and wiser, new and improved me. With an abundance of ribbon, an unabashed embrace of my god-given creative fire on full display. When all the paintings were finished, and being the record keeper that I am, sat down to write out thoughts on the individual works. I wrote about how I used to be, about frustration, about how different it all is now. Then I thought, I wonder what I wrote about those red ribbon paintings way back when. I went to my old blogspot blog, Tenderness and Toil, and read what I wrote in 2008 about the symbolic red ribbon: “I love the ribbon across the bottom of the painting, winding its way delicately through her fingers. I have found myself adding this element to a lot of paintings. I think it represents her passions, her voice and creative expression. It is grounding, it is truth, it is honest and essential to her happiness.” Another post about a painting with ribbon wrapping around and around a woman’s arms said, “Simply put, she is delicately bound by her passions, and quite enjoying the idea of it.” It turns out, the new and improved me used the symbol of the red ribbon in precisely the same way the old me did sixteen years ago. From this I learned two things: One, I had revised history, the emotion that came with the symbol hadn’t change at all. And two, I could get a tattoo after all. That whole thing about the permanence of a tattoo on an ever changing person would surely lead to regret. I could have gotten a permanent red ribbon tattoo then and it would still be just as meaningful to me now. That’s the wonderful thing about symbols, you can add nuance, look at it from a different angle, but in essence it holds its meaning. I haven’t changed nearly so much as I thought I had. A bit older, a little wiser, a little less fearful and a little more bold, but mostly the same. I still have more ideas than than I think I have time for, I still adore my darling daughters and my boys, I still have a burning desire to make and create and express, and I am still quite enjoying the idea of it.