Gillian Parker

Art became the diversion of choice when I was young, propelling me to art school in Los Angeles in the late 1990’s to study black and white (analog) photography.  Trauma turned me inward, however, as I took the road less travelled walking away from my formal continuing education in a search of self.  Across the country and around the world I travelled for the decade and a half that followed, living in several different countries and states.  I jumped out of planes and off of bridges, cliffs and antennae as I tested the tenuous grasp with which we hold onto this plane, losing many dear friends as I worked as a professional skydiver –earning multiple world records, performing stunts within commercials and doing aerial photography– and as I BASE jumped my way across the american southwest and europe, until moving to Hawaii.  There, I suffered a potentially fatal skydiving accident that forced introspection and a return to artistic outlets as I learned to walk, run and eventually jump again.  I began blowing glass and carving wood and stone at the University of Hawaii and welding as much as possible until the birth of my twin children brought me back to the mainland.  They have been major catalysts as I turned away from risk-taking and physically demanding endeavors to again focus on intellectual and artistic pursuits.  I have learned to trust myself and OUR journey all of the way back to where I began on the east coast, having found myself doing the job of parenthood alone.  It is the combination of trials both invited and endured which have shaped my vision as I rewire my brain through both psychological and artistic examination exerted within my works.  A profound release, my works within sculpture play with the figurative as they gently blend with abstraction; a bit of steampunk whimsy is thrown in for good measure when it suits.  The fragility and uncertainty permeating our existence, the struggle, the swift and absolute absence felt through the unimaginable losses all sit in stark contrast to the overwhelming joy and breathtaking beauty left to those of us who live;  I seek out both clay and metal, with wood and glass as compliments in my journey through multiple disciplines as I share my relationships with the aforementioned losses and joys.  Mortality, motherhood and mental health remain common themes within my works. Most recently, I revisit photography with my Covid-19 related photographic series, Trapped Safely, which has allowed the true grit of spirit and underlying angst spill forth from both sides of the camera. Though my personal stories are told and exorcised through my works, they are titled in a manner which allows for the viewer’s own introspection and interpretation.