An Artist's Journey Book 3

Description

Join award winning textile artist Jean M. Judd as she shares the continuation of her journey as an artist in Book 3 of An Artist's Journey series. In this book she takes you on her inaugural trip to Europe in 2008 exploring Paris, Cologne, Brussels, Antwerp, and Amsterdam from an artist's viewpoint.

Jean also shares her thoughts on the intrinsic value of art, artist personality, and perfectionism among other topics. View a selection of commission and exhibition textile artworks from 2005-2009.

About the Author

Author Name : Jean M. Judd

     Jean M. Judd was born in St. Paul, Minnesota (USA) and has lived since 1991 in rural Wisconsin. She is an award-winning textile artist creating one-of-a-kind textile artworks for private art collectors and fine art exhibitions using commercial and hand dyed textiles. She uses rust pigmentation and intricate hand stitching to add visual and physical texture to all of her artworks. She exhibits in fine art exhibitions across the United States and has artwork in private collections in the USA, Canada, South America, and Europe. She also is an author of books about her creative process and experiences in Europe, Quetico Provincial Park in Canada and other locations. Personal projects include sharing her life personal life experiences.

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Latest Poem

My great grandfather was a Slave

My grandfather was a Native

My grandmother was a Bantu

My mother was a kaffir, Nigga, Negro

Names imposed by shackles

But an Afrakan I am

An identity my forefathers were deprived of

 

An identity I am now polluting with the fumes of cigarettes

In dope I am giving it another face

In ecstasy I am giving it a comical image

My drunken stupor gives it an unstable belonging

My borrowed accent contradicts what it represents

My imitated dress code conceals its beauty

My adopted religion undermines my intellectual prowess

My language deafens my ancestors

My values are valueless

My mind is discriminatory

It repels anything indigenous

Whilst absorbing all that is alien

None can identify with me

Even those I am emulating

Patriotism I reserve for my kind

I look down at my patriots

If I were xenophobic

I could have been my own victim

I pride myself in my slanted inferior education

An education promptly deleting my true history

Ignorance is my custom

I am dreaming dreams my forefathers cannot interpret

I am singing praise songs for my dying culture

I am branding a heritage

I cannot inherit

Knowledge of freedom is embedded in my subconscious

But suppressed by fear

Fear to develop my culture and identity

Fear to be rejected by the world

Fear to be different and still love myself

Yet with no identity I remain

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