Born in the eastern Caribbean leeward island nation of Antigua and Barbuda, I was predicted to become a doctor or engineer by my dad. Having moved to the US to finish primary school, I found that alongside an affinity for programming, maths, and literature, I possessed a passion for drawing. Eight-year-old Simone exclaimed “I shall be an artist” in response to learning that my mostly inaccurate sketch of music icon Andy Gibb was exactly eight heads tall, in perfect proportion for an adult male.
Early in my professional life, my creativity flourished quietly in the areas of painting and pulp sculpture while professionally I joined award-winning communication teams at nonprofit organizations. But it languished when I entered the instructional design profession. Artmaking and creativity took a backseat to work, gardening, and biking. It wasn’t until a chance stay at a silent arts retreat in Baltimore, where I spent a week making watercolour paints, sketching, and molding polymer characters—also eating well, reading books, drinking wine, and listening to music—that I reconnected to my joy in the creative arts. Although I had been a digital production professional for over twenty years, I was still that eight-year-old artist reveling at the accomplishment of creation.
That week of art brought the thrill of creation back to me in the most tangible way. Art is a gift that enriches me that need never lapse again. Later that year, I took my Tibetan Singing Bowls and dozens of art supplies to a local day center for adults with developmental disabilities and began facilitating twice- weekly meditation sessions and art classes. This volunteering helped me to begin experimenting with a variety of materials and techniques, alongside my learners. In addition to paint, pastels, and print-making, we incorporated plants, decoupage, collage, and natural materials in our work. My tenure there eventually ended, but not my desire to hone my creative skill.
In these recent few years of artistic growth, I have engaged with creatives of every ilk—at gallery exhibitions, in their studios, at craft events, and even as my own graphic design clients—and have learned valuable lessons from each. Their perspectives have helped me to sharpen my own focus to: make pieces that bring me joy, answer difficult questions about womanhood, relationships, ageing, the roles of technology in a fast-paced present, and my place in the world as a Caribbean immigrant.
My pieces explore the individual and their place in the collective. Rather than move across a variety of subjects in portraiture, I examine a single subject through a variety of lenses, from multiple angles, in different media and sizes before beginning another. Each time asking ‘who is this… why are they here… how do they see themselves… how does the world see them?’ This exploration means that I get to intimately know my subject as I play with light, color, contrast, and negative space in each piece.
Early in my professional life, my creativity flourished quietly in the areas of painting and pulp sculpture while professionally I joined award-winning communication teams at nonprofit organizations. But it languished when I entered the instructional design profession. Artmaking and creativity took a backseat to work, gardening, and biking. It wasn’t until a chance stay at a silent arts retreat in Baltimore, where I spent a week making watercolour paints, sketching, and molding polymer characters—also eating well, reading books, drinking wine, and listening to music—that I reconnected to my joy in the creative arts. Although I had been a digital production professional for over twenty years, I was still that eight-year-old artist reveling at the accomplishment of creation.
That week of art brought the thrill of creation back to me in the most tangible way. Art is a gift that enriches me that need never lapse again. Later that year, I took my Tibetan Singing Bowls and dozens of art supplies to a local day center for adults with developmental disabilities and began facilitating twice- weekly meditation sessions and art classes. This volunteering helped me to begin experimenting with a variety of materials and techniques, alongside my learners. In addition to paint, pastels, and print-making, we incorporated plants, decoupage, collage, and natural materials in our work. My tenure there eventually ended, but not my desire to hone my creative skill.
In these recent few years of artistic growth, I have engaged with creatives of every ilk—at gallery exhibitions, in their studios, at craft events, and even as my own graphic design clients—and have learned valuable lessons from each. Their perspectives have helped me to sharpen my own focus to: make pieces that bring me joy, answer difficult questions about womanhood, relationships, ageing, the roles of technology in a fast-paced present, and my place in the world as a Caribbean immigrant.
My pieces explore the individual and their place in the collective. Rather than move across a variety of subjects in portraiture, I examine a single subject through a variety of lenses, from multiple angles, in different media and sizes before beginning another. Each time asking ‘who is this… why are they here… how do they see themselves… how does the world see them?’ This exploration means that I get to intimately know my subject as I play with light, color, contrast, and negative space in each piece.
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