About Me
I am a native Memphian who grew up through the seventies and greaties. I've been married to my husband, Frank Watson since 1997. We have two adult children, Julia Watson and Will Watson.
I attended Germantown High School from 1983-1987 and the University of Memphis from 1987-92.
I was a child artist who had a thirst to unlock various skills I needed to improve my abilities. I struggled to pay attention in class because I was distracted easily by observations like how the sun came through the branches of a tree outside or the lines in the carpet in my classroom. Paying attention in school was hard but art class was amazing. I was known by classmates as the girl who could draw.
Art was my first friend, invisible playmate, co-conspirator and first love. I was never bored because I had a mother who kept me plied with supplies. She saw me.
I studied art in high school and later in college as well despite my father's encouragement to get a business degree. After making a D in Macro-Economics I bounced around a few other majors and finally returned to studying art. It was around this time that my confidence in my abilities started to shake. I worried that I would not have what it takes to make a career from making art.
I left college and the next logical step was obvious - to get a job in banking. I laid down my brushes and didn't pick them up again for nearly 30 years.
I actually loved working at the bank. It allowed me to explore a different side of me I did not realized that I had. It also let me hide away from being an artist.
I met my husband around that time and we married a few years later. We started a family and I became a stay-at-home mom. Those years were probably the absolute happiest of my life. My sweet husband and babies were and are still everything to me.
I threw myself into being a perfect East Memphis mother and wife. It was a mask and I was safe from any expectations for what I was doing with my talents. My art past became my secret shame. Nobody really knew this side of me. I literally did nothing but a few pencil sketches of my kids.
When my daughter, Julia started showing some artistic abilities I would try to help her along the way. I gave her some pointers and we would visit art museums in every city we visited.
When Julia was a young teen we took a class at the Memphis Metal Museum together over Christmas break. We made copper and glass ornaments and had a blast.
Something stirred in me. An interest in making suddenly became a thought I couldn't ignore.
I had a bit of a crush on this medium that I had heard of but knew nothing about. A year or so later I returned to the Metal Museum for a longer two day workshop. I wanted to learn every thing possible within that short time.
At the end of the workshop I went home with all my little creations and told my husband Frank, "That was so cool. I want to learn more."
I would wake up at night thinking about enamel and copper. I had questions like, "What is it that appeals to me about enamel? Why is it really only seen in small formats? Since it is made with metal can you make larger sculptures with it? Is that possible? Are there limitations that keep one from building bigger?"
I needed to know and I told Frank, "I need a kiln." Bless his heart he bought one for me and I intended to figure this stuff out.
Finally my old friend, art was let out to play. My mask disappeared.
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Perfectly Imperfect
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My near fatal flaw is that I am a perfectionist. People hear me say this and think, "That's nice, she likes things clean."
For me perfectionism is both my superpower and kryptonite. I have a difficult time moving on from something because it is not quite right, whatever right is in my mind. It can be a source of anxiety but does help me stay on a task through completion.
I did not have this problem/strength as a kid with ADHD. School could be really difficult for an easily distracted child. I was constantly being corrected and losing schoolwork. Now when something is wrong or out of place I feel anxiety around what might be lost.
My use of dots help me work out this struggle with imperfection. As I am laying out the geometric background I am the most free in the creation of a painting. I feel calmed by the perfection of the compass-drawn circles and exactly spaced angles.
In contrast with the rigid-seeming geometry the dots represent a departure from control. As I am laying each tiny drop of paint I allow the mistakes made to remain. Sometimes there is too much paint while other times one is laid in an uncomfortable spot.
I have the opportunity to wipe them away and correct myself but I fight the urge and leave it there.
When I step back I see a few things: chaos first but then organic forms, extra sparkles, and beauty. Therein lies what makes the human experience special.
It's the mistakes we make, the decisions that form our steps, the paths we find ourselves on - and the people we are with - that make life beautiful.
Seeing this helps me accept my mistakes and failures with gratitude.
While you are looking at the sparkly glass and pretty colors I am working out what makes me Jennifer.
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