Catherine Ann MacDonald

Artist Statement

Memory is a fickle thing because life in of itself is fleeting. A rather bleak outlook, but rather true if you stop to think about how detrimental the passing of time can be to one's personhood. A frightening dichotomy considering the joys of life in spite of all the horrors of fading away into nothingness once time runs out. Worry plagues my mind with these facts at near constant intervals, so much so I've used imagination all my life to retreat into a kinder world. A world I can do whatever I wish in and at my own pace.

All my life I've struggled one way or another with just living as a person whether that be due to family, medical, or mental health troubles, all has come to impede the way I've come to interact with the world. Hence why creativity has been such a godsend in saving myself from becoming some lame amalgam of a nepo baby crossed with a bitter recluse of a man. Art and creation keeps me sane, to be blunt. Without putting my mind on creating some new character to essentially play toys with, I think I'd be sunk so low in my depression I'd be nothing more than a shell.

I began drawing with the intent to become an artist in middle school, as I was in a group of talented artists who inspired me to work in the medium I now adore, that being character art. That introduction was much needed since before then I don't recall churning out much content about the characters or stories I had occupying my head, only vague snippets of roleplaying with friends while playing or adding personal flair to school art projects. So having these memories of beginning my descent into drawing more consistently sticking out into the forefront of my mind is all I can recall as my direct starting point. This time in my life is one I cherish and regret. Before realizing my love of preserving my old work and repurposing it into new forms, I had thrown out nearly all evidence of it.

So deeply I regret purging these pieces. Memory is something I struggle with along with existentialism, which only heightens my dread of the world as I've formed a disconnect due to gaps in my mind. I can't recall specific times I took aside to draw, nor the contents. A horrible melancholy fills my very soul whenever I think about the legacy of work I've burned to ash. Now I'm deadset on saving all I can. Having any more of myself burn would ruin the very thing I'm trying to create. A living, breathing world of personal work. My intent with all this planning and experimenting is to carve a lasting legacy of myself into some part of our wide world. Fading away is something I simply can't let happen, not when I have so much left to create into art become flesh.

Even if it all remains concepts and rough sketches, it's still there out into the world not locked inside my lonesome head. I deeply desire to push past my own struggles against time and devote myself to my art, in spite of my many flaws. I am no perfect being. I'm selfish, lazy, and utterly broken in ways I'm still trying to mend. All of this, while still fairly rough and in need of refinement, is what I need as a thread to stitch myself back together. My characters are my life. Spectrum, a story concept I've created a page for on my website, is centered upon my own frame of thinking and personality with characters that represent my emotions. Translating feelings I can hardly put into words let alone understand has brought me profound comfort that I wish to share. Whether I can do so successfully- time will only tell despite my fear of it. This will take me an entire lifetime to sort out, but I'm actually excited for once to do something. So I'm not going to let it all rot.