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Girlhood: Lost and Found explores the experience young girls face growing up in a world full of preconceived notions of what it means to be a woman. Lost objects in the street coupled with intimate portraits mirror the many ways women lose their sense of identity as they maneuver life as a female. This work began as a personal journey to discover a way back to the person I was before I learned how the world saw me. But as time progressed, I realized that the larger mirror was my own daughter, and the bigger concern was how to raise her with awareness. I then began traveling back in time, mining old journals and photo albums I had made throughout my own girlhood, as well as investigating archival magazine tears and photographs from my years spent in front of the camera working as a model and actor. I was in awe as synchronicities between the older materials and my adulthood, as well as the photographs I had already made of my daughter, began to reveal themselves. The lines between lifetimes began to blur, and the mirror expanded further to include our shared past experiences and possible fates. The collection of images as a whole examine multi-generational attachments formed in early childhood influenced by female stereotypes portrayed in our daily lives. In the spirit of deprogramming, parallel pasts are examined, proving history can repeat itself before we even have a chance to realize it’s happening. The discarded items offer the opportunity to question and reflect upon the desires women abandon to conform to subliminal ideals and pressures as we navigate the culture we live in. How do we reclaim the lost girl and her true nature, betrayed by false truths and unrealistic expectations to fit the restrictive mold accepted by society? This work holds me accountable, and is helping me age with pride and acceptance in a world that makes women feel as though we should be preparing for battle instead. It is my hope that like the objects in these images, by tossing unnecessary baggage aside, the external influences that took hold in girlhood can also be left behind, clearing the way for a reunion with the woman I am truly meant to be. More importantly, I hope it serves as a teacher for my daughter, providing necessary warning signs on her path to womanhood, all in the hopes of sparing her, and other young girls, from getting lost along the way.
I’m not exactly sure when the ritual of applying makeup to my face in preparation to enter the world carved out it's place and settled in my subconscious mind. My earliest relevant memories are of watching my mother get ready for work in the upstairs bathroom of our childhood home. It’s funny looking back because my mom actually rarely wears and does not even like makeup, yet she felt it necessary to draw in her eyebrows and paint her lids shimmering silver in order to go do her job. I pause under the watchful eyes of my own daughter now, knowing that as much as I preach to her about her natural beauty, she is absorbing more than my words alone. “Why do you need mascara just to go to the grocery store?” She is right, I don’t, and in that moment she is more of a mirror to me herself than the one I am staring in as I apply the black sticky stuff to my lashes as if it is war paint arming me with super powers. As if my bare face alone won’t command enough power, or needs a protective shield to hide behind. I can’t pinpoint the exact moment the brainwashing occurred, it’s a slow insidious process after all. When did it happen for my mother? Television? Magazines? The toys we were given? The years I spent in front of the camera certainly didn’t help, but it was already in play long before then. All I do know is I did not come out of the womb thinking I needed to cover up dark circles or accentuate my lips. We are programmed as women at an early age that our self worth is tied to our physical appearance. As I raise a young girl while attempting to age naturally in a beauty obsessed world, I long for the freedom that comes with deprogramming. This unraveling of false teaching is my personal challenge, this work the vehicle by which I am traveling the course.
My mother after applying her mascara.
Those early years watching my mother’s face twist and contort into bizarre, painful expressions while applying her makeup in that upstairs bathroom felt like an out-of-body experience for me. I could see it was a struggle, a tedious chore, a nuisance. Yet, at the same time, I was mesmerized by the sparkle and color, filled with delight and inspiration at the thought of using the face as a creative canvas. I am still trying to find the balance between these opposing views to this day. With each beautification act I participate in, I run the gamut of emotions as I observe myself from that same out of body place. I ask myself, What is really happening here? Am I a middle-aged woman fighting nature and denying my truth, or instead a woman in midlife owning her truth, confronting the aging process, and doing whatever the hell she wants with her physical appearance because she is in control and has the power to do so? Are these acts self- imposed forms of torture, or self- care? Am I truly having fun and expressing myself creatively, or caught up in a trap feeling forced to maintain appearances? At the end of the internal debate, it is my belief that all of these things can be true at the same time.
Tears
Regardless of physical, emotional, or environmental conditions, every woman will inevitably come face to face with the issue of motherhood and the absence or presence of it in their lives. Often we get to choose which path to go down, and other times we have to make choices based on circumstances beyond our control. Then we must tackle the wide range of emotions and life decisions that show up once we arrive at either destination. My fascination lies in wondering how we might choose differently if we grew into womanhood without the effects of any external influences that may have shaped our perception of what it meant to be a woman. Would we still want the same things? Are we making decisions based on our honest desires, or from years of programming and fear of being considered less than? Would we be as hard on ourselves when we fall short of the fabled woman who “has it all” once we are there? One thing is certain, it will never be perfect, and there is beauty in that. These images were made with the hope of creating space for conversation, connection, unlearning, and nonjudgmental support despite our differences.
What became of my acting career (scripts turned into Luna’s finger paintings).
You can try to hold on, but she’s already gone…
