Build a Ship, or Something Like It

Welcome to in the studio with Komikka 

Here once again to talk about art and art things. I haven’t written a newsletter in almost six months. Writing here felt like a laborious task for a thousand reasons and what came of the break was that space is needed. There is a relationship that is happening with timing and I. In which time considers all of my needs as long as it is honored. Time makes space for my creations in every stage, even when I can’t seem to unravel myself from confusion long enough to notice that that was what they are asking for.

As I settle back into my home studio, after a wonderful artist residency at the McColl center, here in Charlotte, North Carolina, reacquainting myself with the square foot or the lack there of, the carpet, wall color, the way the lights come into the room, the sounds of birds, the mailman and their timing, the garbage trucks, the administrative detailing that put on hold for the freedom of just making. So much comes to the surface. So much opens, so much was left open, so much enters, so much desires to be added to, reevaluated, and loved upon. Coming home is always an experience within itself. 

My studio at the McColl Center

Missing the beautiful size of this studio! Ah such magic in space that has the capacity to hold all of you. 

My cute little small space… cozy and so much better for the knees

What is the space being depicted? 

Connection beyond the physical and communication beyond the vocal, or better yet it is the allowing of spaces to be larger than what they appear to be. Pleasure then becomes a bridge, sometimes color, sometimes magnifying glass, sometimes a crack that offers entry into a network beyond reason. Pause… I often think of Fred Moten and his ability to talk about spaces where words don’t go. It’s a reoccurring theme in my work. Sound depicted through collage in the form of moving and still bodies.

There is something interesting about the similarity of sounds made in pleasure and in pain. In childbirth and in orgasm. Or even the sounds that come from the human body that mimic other things. It gives a different insight into the tuning of something. Vibrational sure, but even the endless possibilities of circumstances that could cause such sounds. Circumstances adding plot to the story. Tension to the cords. A wonderful playing. 

This may be a strange transition, but going somewhere is sometimes weird.

Pleasure as transportation; the ship examining how exposure, honesty and penetrative exchange, stabilize the autonomous subject and reconfigure the body. Here is a relational field where we can access being-with, without physical contact, where we can have conversation without a physical contact, we can even be penetrated without physical contact, the work displays that in detail while showing something that happens in the “physical”’ but also depicting things that can exist within other grounds as well, such as the emotional, the metaphysical, and the sensual.

We often use art as a means of going and leaving. But now I think of art as a door in which pleasure moves within. Collage being one of a thousand doors. Painting being another door, drawing as another. All of a sudden there are all of these doors open to explore something truly moving.

These are ships, no these are maps, no these are blueprints; a framework for creation of said ship.  Maybe they are all the things, but it sure is fun to try to put shapes in holes that somewhat fit.

Exploring new territories or maybe not that new territories that we allowed to maybe fall by the wayside because of survival or because we are overloaded by our day today there is a wisdom that I feel like I have touched maybe even a medicine that feels so potent with information, not only of myself, but also that which connects beyond just the surface of likes and dislikes, something a tune to a nervous system or a lymphatic system, but it’s in a way a system its the system that allows for communication to transpire what we think, in part thinking is what gets in the way. The work depicts sex, but sex is only its language not its making. These works can and do exist outside of the body, using the body in its fullness, which is too kind of to assist with transporting and transcribing a journey that is  past the intellect or reason into another realm entirely, where those things can not go. I talk about death a lot because there is a dying that has to occur for this type of transformation, maybe a death of the mind someone would say a type of meditation or someone would say a type of stillness and right now I really like that word death because of this idea of a deep surrendering,  because of the deep surrendering that occurs which I’m relating back to this consensual visual depiction of what sex could be or this allowance of penetration not only to get to know oneself, (in self awareness) but to also better communicate or to communicate in a clearer dynamic. 

clearer understanding

clearer map making 

clearer deprogramming

clearer mind body attachment and detachment 

clearer relational attachment and detachment 

clearer organization

clearer balance?

clear analysis of possibilities

sometimes I’m questioning if  I’m using sex (the idea of)  as a meditation, or if I’m using it to test the depths of meditation. Maybe test the medicine of meditation, maybe the embodiment of meditation. 

So the collages, or the drawings, or the works do depict a type of physicality which is of “bodies”, engaging within “bodies’’ but within a void or all things, more in a type of origins or a type of emergence and in turn they also reveal these emotional, sensual, and metaphysical spaces that are less superficial than physical. And a lot more intriguing. 

Here is also a video from Artist Unscripted lead by the beautiful Makeia that continues to explain the interworkings of my brain… with a lot of excitement and a little ecstasy.

Unraveling… reoccurring thought: There is a type of death that has to occur for deep transfiguration. A more gentler term than transcendence. Big words, that shows up in small doses. Little jazz hands encouragements. But you catch my drift. 

There are many art things in the works. I know I should talk about them here but its not as fascinating to as the question that get the art going. Maybe in my next newsletter I will be more art focused and less intention centered. Sigh. Sounds like technical writing and less rambling. It’s okay. I'm sure I already have something started somewhere in my note or Google Docs. 

Well that’s my word dump this time around, I’ve gone on long enough. It’s always a pleasure to come to this space and talk in my circles. Thank you for coming with me into the studio where art is  reshaping the mind in such ways that I'm sure madness will soon follow. Glorious madness that leads to peace, and if not that then at least some interesting art. Also side note here is a wonderful interview of me talking for about 45 minutes about my current vision in detail. Check out McColl’s YouTube. 

If you haven’t already, subscribe below, and don’t forget to add me to your address book so I don’t land in your spam, sending my love.

With The Heaviness Of Awareness; Roots Are Thrown In There Somewhere Too

I could say these are confusing times but there is, in truth, nothing especially confusing about what we are witnessing. What unfolds now has been unfolding for a very long time. As someone deeply devoted to history rather than politics, I nevertheless find that politics has a way of dominating the narrative. It is both frustrating and beautiful, infuriating, yet profoundly revealing. At once disorienting and remarkably clear when examined through the lens of humanity and its many layers. Many maaaaaaanny layers.

I am writing this with very little sleep, it seems lack of sleep awakens something in the back of my brain that says “here is resignation, you couldn’t see it before.'“ There was a  conversation that had to be had and with that a lot of questions. Some had answers but many simply led to more questions which are some of my favorites and out of that conversation was so much room for anger and gratitude, love and grief, exhaustion and the readiness to take on what is knocking at the door. Confusion, however, is not merely an obstacle; it can also be a form of salvation. To question is to open a path toward understanding…of the subject, of the self, and of the space between. I cannot receive information without interrogating it. I cannot experience without questioning the experience itself. Curiosity and confusion often coexist: one is the choice to look closely, the other the feeling of having no choice at all, maybe of being shaped by circumstance. A kind of captivity, perhaps, but also a catalyst. I started this newsletter saying these are confusing times and then went back and edited. Because when have things not been confusing and when have things ever been crystal clear and that clarity lasts for more than a moment before something else knocks that one has never seen before in this particular way.

I often speak about intention when it comes to art, though intention is never singular or simple. It is deeply nuanced, shaped by complex conditions that give rise to countless small decisions, questions, and renewed curiosities. Intention is not static; it is responsive and requires multilayered vision. I think of this vision when I think of beautiful things like the Monks walking to D.C. or the hard things like the complexities of what is happening in Venezuela.  Someone’s leg was made sacred and offered to the mission. Another felt liberated by another’s capture and there is much more nuance in both of these examples. 

Installation in the works

I do not speak about this often, but there are moments when I feel compelled to name it: my work is not inherently political, yet depending on how I enter a space, it may be read as such. To show up in Blackness is to occupy a political space. To show up as a woman is political. To show up as an American is political. I am often uncomfortable articulating this, particularly as I continue to benefit from programs and structures that require identification. Yet, as I grow more confident in the authentic mirror I am becoming, I feel called to say this plainly:

As a Black American artist, I navigate a complex set of expectations surrounding how my identity should be expressed through my work. There exists an implicit pressure for artists from historically marginalized communities to center narratives of struggle, trauma, or social urgency in order to be legible or supported. While I deeply respect the necessity and power of such work, my own practice moves in a different direction.

My work is rooted in tenderness, intimacy, and the exploration of shared interior states—what might be described as soul, collective consciousness, or the emotional undercurrents that connect us beyond fixed identity. Creating work that seeks to transcend categorization rather than reinforce it can present challenges within systems that more readily recognize art framed through hardship or visible crisis.

Roots admired in a cafe

In moments when the world feels acutely fractured or burning, work that operates through care, quietness, and emotional unity can be more difficult to position, advocate for, or sustain.

I make work as something operating a body, for other things, put even more plainly, trying to understand how all of this functions, how we align, and what within me/us responds.

Where All Things Connect… It’s Just Less Dense Here

2025

Mixed Media Collage, Japanese Paper, Fibers, Watercolor, Spray-Paint, Acrylic, and India Ink on BFK

30” x 30”

Because times may always be confusing and may always require those affected by immediate danger to take the stage, my concern lies with “ will there ever be space for peace. Is peace worth investing in? Do museums want to put on a exhibition and highlight what some may deem as an unrealistic worldview. Or a worldview that the world can not support while its on fire, because the conversations must happen. I titles this newsletter In the studio with the heaviness of awareness, because more often than not more awareness doesn’t band-aid the hurt if anything more awareness is just surface exposed more wounds to talk about more scratches, bruises, and broken bones and, and, and. My work exists in a space that fluctuates between ecstasy and peace, only because of its acceptance, willingness, love, compassion for the grit, the fire and the destruction, and the artist in me really hopes that institutions make room for aerial perspectives. That are not confused. But dare to be in awe. 

Current Inspiration

Okay lets end on a really positive note this time around. Here are some new things happening. I am in beekeeping school working to get state certified in taking care of nature’s angels. I am a resident artist at the McColl center in Charlotte NC. I am a freshly made business owner, shout out to Komikka & Company. I currently have a piece showing in Baton Rouge, and I am getting back into the printmaking studio… I am probably missing a few things but this is just straight off the dome. If you, you know. 2026 started with go go go in mind and I am grateful to move forward with a momentum that feels right rather than rushed. Life has a way of showing you how ready you are to experience things you never thought you would. Cheers to breaking ceilings that went unnoticed and borders that seemed impossible. I’ve been shown what life can be when one allows themselves to live in constant ecstasy, and that comes with accepting it without conditions. Rolling around in joy when joy presents itself.

If you haven’t already, subscribe below, and don’t forget to add me to your address book so I don’t land in your spam, sending my love.

- Komikka Patton

Wandering In The West And The East

Salt Bath, Mixed Media Collage, Japanese Paper, Acrylic, Faux Pearls, and India Ink, 60” x 48”, 2025

Welcome to in the studio with Komikka! 

It feels like forever since I’ve written to you! Honestly, I’ve been bombarded with so much newness. Behind the scenes, I’ve been preparing for a YouTube launch, rebranding, designing, writing *Shakes head* doing everything but making art at my usual pace. Things have felt slow in the studio, but fast everywhere else, and I never want to force conversation, hence the delay, but I’m glad I'm back. 

Still, I didn’t want to step back from writing simply because I felt overwhelmed. Writing is one of my most beautiful expressions, and it’s important for me to share the “in-between,” not just the polished finish. Also I thought it was super valuable to write about those shifts that happen in the background not just as a person, but how those internal shifts show up in a creative space. In some ways I feel that I’m a broken record, but isn’t that how change truly manifests aren’t you supposed to recognize your cycles. Give them attention so that they are finally realized and somehow we can wiggle out of them, just a bit more…more.

What do I offer?

This question came up in the name of rebranding… ummm, what do I believe I offer and how can I put all of this into some type of concise, written format that will be an honest presentation of what I am trying to build? What do others get from me? What do they see in my art absent a written statement? What do they get from my conversations? While before this didn't matter as much, because art really was a vomiting session of life experience regurgitated as layered collages, wrapped in beautiful ribbons of ink and delicately sought after paper, if one is starting a business that requires others, well one has a realization that being of service is incredibly important. Has my art been selfish? These are just rapid-fire questions that I have tossed around. Whether intentionally or not what is happening here… yum so juicy when that question comes up. Kudos to all the entrepreneurs in my life, figuring out how to stay authentic and yet still blossom I think something magical happens when something is on the verge of breaking, or fully stepping into the unknown. Like even, what is the benefit of making beyond my own desire to create something. And even if there is more to it, is this what is riding in the forefront, the mare of the herd? The lead fish in front of the school.

Monterrey Bay Aquarium

sea walnut, comb jelly (Mnemiopsis leidyi)

giant Pacific chiton, Gumboot Chifton, (Cryptochiton stelleri)

Lately, I’ve been reflecting on what it means to grow in this area too. What if offerings change as we do. Do they become more particular or more expanded? Do they start to fit the mold of particular group i.e. loyal collectors, or do they become more universal. What does it mean to shift for collective, or shift and include more of the collective? The scars that come with maturity and wisdom and the strengthening of muscles one adapts to living and the ability to keep living requires such discourse. Growth feels so delicate and fragile, like learning to walk in new shoes or speak a new language. After just learning how to walk in said shoes or how to twist the tongue in certain ways for particular sounds it then asks for more. It’s intimidating to show up in that vulnerable state, and most of the time that is what life is asking of us. The state of infinite student.

I asked a friend what they think I offer others, and their answer moved me deeply. They said I bring art into reach, that I humanize fine art, making it feel achievable. They also saw a kind of vulnerability in me that creates space for others to be fully themselves or at least start to question what that even means. That touched me, because it reminds me why I show up even when things are messy: growth is more rewarding than simply repeating “the work.” Growth is the questioning. 

So now here I am sitting in a vegan spot in Santa Cruz talking about, for lack of a better word, wandering, and if I want to glamorize it, stepping into the void allowing unfolding. When I allow myself to grow, conversations deepen, love expands, devotion expands, awareness expands. It’s intimidating. Yes, but only because it requires me to be brave enough to admit my ignorance. I don't know everything… I don't even know what I think I know. I know only bits and pieces and that is also incredibly beautiful. There is all this growing pain, but never has growth not been rewarded in some way and never has admitting ignorance not presented a perfect opportunity to learn something. There is also always the reminder that my best is always enough.

wax begonia (Begonia spp.)

Okay Okay Let’s Get Serious About The Art

Because fantasy writing has become so essential to my processing, my art is shifting too. No longer so detrimental, in a way now it can finally fail. Now real boundaries can be tested, because attachments have shifted. There was a time I thought drawing was the only thing I was truly good at, or at least I had invested so much time to acquire some type of skill that was valuable. So I added more value to it. It deserved it. These were all the years of art school, all the late nights all the material pressed into something halfway recognizable. But it wasn’t until I took courage in other creative outlets did, I get brave in my visual representations. The care didn't stop but the pressure did, which invited the community to not care too much either. Another offering, Not long ago, everything I created felt black and white and now its color, texture, and new stories are emerging. Ways, and roads, with many crossings. The colors are different, the poses are different, the spirit is different. But so very exciting and in some ways infantile in its emerging.

Every piece I make is a doorway. An invitation into a space that feels. Its value is in its submission.

The Witnessing, Mixed Media Collage, Japanese Paper, Acrylic, Spray-paint, Faux Pearls, and India Ink, 60” x 48”, 2025

View from a cafe looking at Capitola Venetian Court, Capitola, California

I’ve been learning more about the importance of effort. I’ve always said effort is a display of love, but lately I’ve been reshaping what effort means. It’s not just about showing up when I don’t want to; it’s about understanding that effort itself is part of the creation process. Effort makes room for newness, clears away stagnation, and births new textures.

I’m being tested in my effort, in my ability to keep trying and stay the path. I feel vulnerable, curious, and willing. Not long ago, I told a friend my purpose was to “observe in awe.” Yesterday, I said, “If only I could just stay in awe. Not only would I be in my purpose, but everything would feel so magical.” And indeed it would. And it has. Art is such a funny thing. Fine art is even funnier. There is so much life in it. It is truly luxurious. It is truly essential. It encapsulates polarities constantly. And presents them in dining rooms and above couches. That is the goal. Not galleries but in someone’s home to be lived with and embedded with more human experience.

Today, I realized the depth of that excavation and the courage it takes to remain a student, to stay creative, and to stay transparent. Art is happening, but art itself isn’t as important as what stirs beneath it. Before, lessons came through surrender while making. Now, making feels like the least important thing on my plate. In fact, it is the plate that is important. While before art making felt like the finale after a long journey, the sweet moment of celebration, a victory.

It’s strange…sometimes making becomes an escape. Sometimes it feels like falling into old patterns. Or maybe the way I show up in creative spaces is dancing with me. That shift is both exhilarating and annoying, and it requires that I not use art in the ways of my old.

These are the conversations I want to have with the mad scientists of the art world, the ones that expose and comfort. I’m interested in the inner worlds of people who create not just for money, not just because it feels good to have your art presented, but because as one tries to figure out what’s going on internally, they instinctively reach for it.

Museum Trip To De Young

I recently returned from a remarkable trip to San Francisco, a city that revealed itself as an unexpected source of renewal. The visit reaffirmed much at a time when the art world feels weighed down by broader societal and political tensions. I had perhaps underestimated how profoundly art and politics feed into one another, but this trip made the connection undeniably clear.

Conversations with fellow artists were deeply grounding. There is something uniquely restorative about artists gathering, sharing achievements, struggles, inspiration, and perspective. These exchanges reminded me that the act of creation is sustained not only by solitude but also by community. What I mean by this is, I didn’t realize how crazy I felt. Art had became less friendly over the years, not the beauty of creating it but everything else that surrounded it. And oddly enough it was comforting to know that everyone was feeling it and it was just me. I had been carrying around this covert attachments and emotions that I felt I couldn’t put down because if I did that I would expose that somehow art had gotten quite hard. There were times i just wanted to throw everything away. Start a new way of expressing, start from scratch. Visiting San Fran was the hug I needed, that said “ yeah, some times I feel like that too.” Oh how great.

The De Young Museum was another highlight, exceeding all expectations. Coming from such enriching dialogue into an environment where composition, material, and ancient traditions stood alongside contemporary explorations was transformative. The exhibitions, particularly those honoring the Indigenous peoples of California and beyond, were powerful. The dialogues between modern abstraction, contemporary practice, and historical traditions illuminated how art does more than reflect its time; it preserves, interprets, and connects eras.

What struck me most was the enduring relevance of works created decades ago. They stand as reminders that art is not only expression but also record, a moral and cultural timekeeper. Museums such as the De Young underscore how essential it is to revisit art frequently: to better understand the world, to witness how politics and creativity intertwine, and to recognize art’s role in weaving together the tapestry of human life.

Mother, Springhouse (Oakland Plantation Series), Richard Cleaver, 2005

Laure (New General Chart for the West Indies of E. Wright’s Projection, Firelei Baez, 2021

At Five in the Afternoon, Robert Motherwell, 1950

Cotton Picker, Robert Gwathmey 1950

Closing Thoughts

All of this was to invite you into this space of “student Komikka”, the toddler stage of learning new walks, new languages, new ways of existing. It’s not always organized, but it’s always alive.

Thank you for witnessing this journey with me. Thank you for allowing me to grow in your presence. Until next time!

Link leads to available works.

With love and devotion,

Komikka

Where All Things Grow

Welcome to in the studio with Komikka 

Just this morning a friend sent me an audio message asking me in what ways I was excited to expand recently. What am I consciously looking forward to? I replied that I was excited for joy. And then went into a long breath about how little fragments of the art have changed. Things like mark marking that I would only notice or the fact that I’m now interested in clear vs black gesso. How foundational art techniques have shifted, and it got me thinking about old writings that I’ve shared, limited by word count and condensed for the sake of fitting in margins. So here are a few ways the art has changed and why certain motifs have gained new meaning. 

Self-portraiture in the work

To be honest, I think it speaks to my exhibitionist nature. Art allows me to freely create without condemnation, and I frequently use myself because I’m talking about my exploration and fascination with my becoming. It only makes sense to use self-portraiture as a means to understand my boundaries and understand my shifts and changes, stimulations, and vulnerabilities. I think the self-portraiture in this work is so profound because, Yes, these portraits may be erotic. But they also serve a deeper function, they strip away the illusion of singularity. They dissolve the myth of separateness. In their honesty, they begin to gesture toward a collective condition. What is this body, after all, but flesh adorned in cloth no more, no less than what we all inhabit? Through the act of unveiling, I invite the viewer into a space where individuality is both exposed and transcended.

I’m not my body, although I am grateful for it, and we all have bodies and through certain engagements, more bodies are produced so it eliminates this, “unnaturalness” of individuality and it eliminates this fear of being seen while still upholding the sacredness of union and connection. Self-portraiture, then, is not merely a study of self, it is an offering. A way to return to the body not as identity, but as communion. And in that return, to remember that we are not alone or limited.

Detail of

“Wide Open”

2025

Mixed Media collage, Japanese Paper, Watercolor, Acrylic, Spray-paint, Fibers, and India Ink

72”x 48”

The importance of depicting tenderness within surrender or eroticism?

I am often told that the work is tender, that tenderness is its language, its atmosphere, its breath. And I hold that observation close because tenderness is not merely a stylistic choice, it is a necessity. It is the pulse of the world. I am trying to build a world where eroticism is not divorced from divinity, surrender is not stripped of its sanctity, and tenderness is obvious, not hidden behind labels of relationships, or so unexpected that it is hesitantly received, but so mundane and simple that it’s recognized and smiled at. Often times something that is both divine and mundane such as intercourse is spoken about in brutality or such explicitness that it almost makes a mockery of connection and the vulnerability of experiencing with another, a failure to recognize the soft, trembling power of being seen and touched and known, if even for a moment.

 A friend once said to me, “Everything in your work appears loved.” And I carry that like a blessing. Because in that love is not sentimentality, it is reverence. It is the quiet suggestion that even in the exposed, even in the aching, even in the unguarded gesture there is the Divine, Spirit, God, Krishna, Ram, Christ, YHWH, or one of the many other names . Or there is especially the divine. In the most natural of things, the most mundane of things, the rawest of things, even in the most unsightly, dirty, ugly there is God. There is tenderness. 

Tenderness, then, is not softness for its own sake. It is the language of divine intimacy. It is how we pray with our bodies. It is how we remember that the sacred does not reside outside of us, but moves through us, with every breath, every touch, every surrender. It’s in the withholding AND engagement. In the veil and its absence. Between one or many. Behind closed doors or put on museum walls. In Shunga, in the floating worlds of Edo-period Japan, we see eroticism rendered with elegance and reverence. In Hindu temples like Khajuraho and Lakshmana, we find bodies entwined not in shame, but in sacred choreography, sexuality as ritual, as prayer, as union with the divine. These traditions did not draw a harsh line between flesh and spirit. They honored their inseparability.

Tenderness is discovery. It is the sacred pause before the unveiling. It is the vulnerability of opening, of trusting, of becoming. To depict tenderness in eroticism is to acknowledge that the act itself can be a form of worship, an encounter not only with another but with something higher, something eternal.

Drawing Studies, with color-pencil, markers, and graphite, really anything I can put my hands on

A wonderful book I bought in Kyoto, Japan featuring Sesshū Tōyō’s master works: A Zen Buddhist priest, who is considered a great master of Japanese ink paintings inspired by Chinese landscapes, Sesshū's work holds a distinctively Japanese style that reflects Zen Buddhists aesthetics.

The Exhibition

By Master ink artist Sesshū Tōyō, he focused on landscapes never Shunga.

In the center of the book is also a moment that highlights “Spring paintings” just emphasizing his influence of ink techniques during the Edo period and how Sesshū Tōyō works were emulated not just by his successors but by many different schools. This is the same time of prolific production in Shunga.

What is so attractive about Shunga Art and how does it correlate with current world views, internal world development, or spiritual journey?

As a drawer, as a draftsman, technically I consider illustrators, comic artists, and manga artists to be the best technical drawers ever. My style was birthed from American illustrators, I was black and white for a long time, simply for the art of learning how to tell a story in its most bare and raw terms, and when I think of masters of storytelling, when I think of masters of line work, I think of Japanese illustrators and I include printmakers in illustration, as well as inhabiting the world of fine art. As a former printmaker, printmaking instructor, Printmaking is a prime resource to tell a story, so I’m taking all of this into consideration when looking at Shunga, because Shunga technically are beautiful Japanese wood carvings and ink drawings, I’m taking all of this into consideration when I’m looking at composition and how someone carving a line. The importance of line and the effort it took to stop a line, the patience, or the effort it took to make a line look fluid, curved, the slowness, the attention, the investigation, the delicacy, the paper, the softness of the fibers meeting the rigidness of the wood block, it's all so damn sexual. And then on top of that, adding in this beautiful exploration of sexuality of the body of intimacy of relationship with others and self through imagery, encompasses our day-to-day interactions. On every plane. We are constantly being penetrated by something even if it's just sun rays. Through the conversation of language, vocally, physically, mentally, spiritually, and putting it in a vehicle of paper and ink is so beautiful, natural and provocative, and incredibly honest and vulnerable and sincere. And I think where I am currently speaking to all of that is in an invitation to allow other people to be comfortable in having all of that curiosity, all of that honesty, all of that bareness be put on stage, put in gallery spaces,  put on the Internet, or put out there into the world so that we continue to get comfortable with being honest. So that I continue getting comfortable with being and staying honest and authentic and free. Of shame. And to me freedom equals surrender. The context is always to the divine. 

The red light was so unintentional, but perfect

On Color, Sweetness, and the Evolution of My Practice

In my notes, I wrote… colors = sweetness.

Someone once said that to me, and it lingered. Sweetness. Not in the saccharine sense, but in the way something soft and vibrant touches you unexpectedly, gently, yet deeply.

For a long time, processing reality felt like wading through noise. In order to dismantle the binary frameworks, I had inherited, this or that, light or dark, good or bad I had to collapse everything into one space, and from that dense tangle, discover the greys. Color, in those moments, felt like too much. Another layer of information, another vibration to decode. An overwhelming “Allness”, all these relationships, emotional tensions, personalities crashing into each other like conversations at a crowded party.

Life already felt impossibly complex. I wanted my art to offer something distilled. Not necessarily simple but definitely simplified. A space where texture, depth, and concept could be explored without color creating more friction. Black and white gave me harmony. It offered the illusion of agreement, everyone matched, no clashing, no extra voices in the room. It was my way of saying: “Here are the layers, the ideas, the story, but let’s not confuse things more than we need to.”

Over the past two years, something shifted. My system can now hold color—without being overstimulated or distracted by its subtexts. I no longer get lost in the endless, subtle dialogues colors have with one another. Now, I can let the intention of the piece guide me. I can sip, not chug.

Working in black and white gave me permission. It taught me allowance. Had I introduced color too soon, it would’ve shattered me. In university, I believed I was going to be a painter. I thought color was the goal. But its abundance pulled me into an obsessive pursuit of likeness, of realism. It locked me in the observational. And while that is a sacred place to be, my drawings were already representational. It left me uninspired. What I craved was the permission to let one part be grounded in the real and let another part stretch toward the surreal.

That’s the magic of black and white: it sharpens attention. It trains the eye to see through surreal lines and values rather than the fullness of hue. That’s why, I believe, black and white photography or simple line drawings have a kind of haunting clarity. Anyway, I’m rambling…

Now, color has returned, not as molasses, but as Dixie crystals. Not something heavy, sticky, or all-consuming, but something that sweetens the work a bit. That lifts it.

I wouldn’t say I’ve mastered it. But I’ve softened. Experience has mellowed the urgency. And the timing is simply… right. Color doesn’t overwhelm me anymore. It invites me. It asks gently, and I answer with the same softness. I no longer feel the need to prove or contain it. It calls, and I sip.

Soul In The Aftermath

2025

Mixed Media Collage, Paper, Watercolor, Acrylic, Watercolor, Spray-paint, Faux Pearls, and India Ink

12” x 12”

Delicate

2025

Mixed Media Collage, Paper, Watercolor, Acrylic, Mica, Watercolor, Spray-paint, Faux Pearls, and India Ink

12” x 12”

Japanese color theory book that has saved me a time or two in the color department, this is the 2nd edition.

Audience’s receptivity to the shift in content or inspiration

This is so interesting, I think there is definitely a transition happening with those that were interested in the work  before to those that are intrigued by it now. I honestly didn't expect the dramatic shift, but there is something very honest about the work and honesty can be disruptive. My work isn’t political, it isn’t critical race theory, it isn’t imbedded with overcoming hardship, there is no story leading up to its freedom, there is just freedom. There is an eternal freedom that exist that others my find hard to accept, to face so explicitly, to put in their living room and look at it everyday, to even let other people see their interest in it . “What would others think if i revealed this caught my eye, and to be honest I don't even know what’s happening.”. But there are also those that are loud with enthusiasm, just in witnessing my growth, in witnessing me open up. I've been a mystery for a long time. Not intentionally just in the way an artist is an alchemist. And I’ve been mixing things in the pot and out pops…. All this penetration lol. Wow. I think its funny and find a lot of joy in the different takes. I especially love when people don’t even know what to say, I’m like “PERFECT, you are so close to actually getting it” It’s a space where I am straight up revealing conversation with myself, the world, and that beyond me, no middleman, no abstractness, not high concept art, just all heart. And I don’t even have the full reason why I was lead in this direction, but it had been beautifully fulfilling and healing and informative. It has shifted who I thought I was. It has revealed covert conditions to joy and connections, before were these underhanded seeds of righteousness and this current work has transformed into something that has sliced that to bits and grew something even more real in its wake. It has allowed me to look at various shadows and hold space and dissolve conditional love. And be penetrated by unconditional adoration. Thank you for coming to my TED talk until next time.

If you haven’t already, subscribe below, and don’t forget to add me to your address book so I don’t land in your spam, sending my love.

- Komikka Patton

P.S Like the photo above… there is something beautiful about living in a space. Old and used. It teaches how to care, how to tend to, how to get on knees with a bucket and sponge and get to work, how to spackle, and paint, re-tile, teaches appreciation. Heart space. I’ve also been doing home improvement, testing my skills. I may show next newsletter!

Also here is an updated (For now) available works list.

Drawing Studies available soon.

2025 Catalog

With The Rhythm of Allowance: On Cracks, Sensation, and Creative Process

Just got done with a painting session… and now sitting in the library

Welcome to the Studio with Komikka! 

I almost didn’t write this newsletter. March has been a month of deep consumption—of reading, of absorbing, of sitting with ideas before knowing what to do with them. Not very much production. I’ve spent long hours in the library, with my handy dandy Yeti cup, and my iPad waiting patiently next to an open copy of Paths to God: Living the Bhagavad Gita by Ram Dass. Thich Nhat Hanh waits patiently in my bag alongside a couple of Ricolas and eyeglass wipes—objects of small care, each with its own quiet necessity.

Outside the window, a sickly green pond glows in the afternoon sun, framed by boardwalk restaurants and ice cream shops and trees that feel too young to not have any parental guidance or shade. This morning, Spirit woke me early and told me to wash my hair. It had kept me up most of the night in a state of high consideration—turning over thoughts on compassion, prayer for those around me, and relinquishing my own hesitation with my imperfections in showing up. Also questioning a piece destroyed the night before to be made anew, with little to no remaining evidence of what was before. I’m not too sure about it. I’ve done well with colors, but pale yellows, and pinks… I’m listening, stepping into spaces where I can hear my Dharma.  

Isn’t it interesting how different pens can alter one’s handwriting? I’m particularly intrigued by this pen because it has rendered my writing unusually difficult to read—something I’ve never experienced before. It almost feels like my own personal da Vinci Code.

Detail: Lose Even Who You Think You Are Becoming. That Too Is a Limitation.

Lose Even Who You Think You Are Becoming. That Too Is a Limitation.

2025

Mixed Media Collage, Japanese Paper, Watercolor, Acrylic, Spray Paint, Flint, Pearls, India Ink

30 x 30 in

Everchanging/ Destruction

Somehow I always forget the difficulties of shrinking once you’ve gotten use to certain parameters. This piece transformed 1000 times.

Destruction has been on my mind lately—One that likes to pop up in my omens of silence, full of unfolding. A meteor collides with a planet not as punishment, but as a fulfillment of its karmic journey. To tilt things at just the right angle. Cracks form not to break things, but to create openings.

I think of Bayo Akomolafe, who speaks of cracks with reverence. He warns against houses too well-built, against doors that define where one is meant to go. He loves cracks for their honesty, their unexpectedness—for the way they reimagine what passage can be. Where they can lead. I was moved by this. The revolutionary thought of going and leaving by alternative paths. Fascinated by those in between spaces, the unsuspected power of moving through walls. Boundaries meant to hold, protect, or contain, now rendered useless by its own weight and possibly the shifting grounds of time. And to take this beautifully crafted metaphor and apply it to every aspect of my life deepens an allowance and creates a heartbeat of constant freedom even within illusions of prison.

On Sensation and the Permission to Feel

Akomolafe also speaks of sensation—of becoming sensationalists in the truest sense. When I first heard this, I sat up straight. This is what I’ve been circling around. Not a label, not an identity—just an attunement. An opening.

Lately, I have been crying often. Not from sorrow, not from overwhelm—but from sensation itself. From the sheer capacity to feel.

Sprouts emerging in a windows sill * Thinking of you Brien Family

There is a passage in Paths to God where Ram Dass speaks of suffering and joy not as opposites, but as doors to the same room. “You don’t avoid suffering; you just don’t buy into it,” he says. “You let it move through you.” This, too, feels like allowance. Not endurance, not passivity—but the ability to be moved without resistance. What’s interesting is some of my subconscious binaries are dissolving. I hadn’t realized that some of my spectrums were still linear.

When I cry, it is not always because something hurts. Sometimes, it is because something is true. Because something is so beautiful it unravels me before my mind can make sense of it. Most of the time it’s because I’ve carved a path of least resistance when it comes to bodily expression and in my continual granting of certain paths my body uses them to express. A practiced instrument and muscle memory. There is no piece of myself that goes dismissed. And every piece of me has the right to use my eyes for release.

Detail Shot of Ecstasy Has No Opposite

The Peril of “Should” and the Beauty of Uncertainty

I have been watching how often I resist this. How often I trap myself in the cage of shoulds running unconsciously.

I should have something concrete to show for my time in the studio.

I should know where this is leading.

I should have answers.

Do I have goals, shouldn’t I be preparing for my hypothetical solo show in case an amazing opportunity presents itself.

Shouldn't I stay ready? 

But Dharma does not move in straight lines. Creation, too, is not a linear act.

For weeks, I have felt the pull of ideas, moments of insight so beautiful they nearly knock me over. And yet, I have learned that to grasp too tightly at these flashes of brilliance, to even label them as such is to stifle not only them but my own blossoming before whatever is asking to be seen they can fully bloom.

There is a difference between inspiration and completion. Between the brief moment of knowing and the long, slow process of becoming. The becoming is where the fire is, all the movement, not only the moving of mountains but where a mechanism of reincarnation lies, where over an unimaginable time spans change is inevitable.

A gorgeous idea is not the end—it is the beginning. And if I hold too tightly to the first glimmer of beauty, I may miss the even greater beauty that is waiting to emerge.

Detail Shot of Ecstasy Has No Opposite

Unfolding as an Artistic Practice

I am learning to work with this rhythm.

I was thinking of naming a series of drawings. “Allowance is a slow rhythm” in which I depict myself in an aftermath of an allowance session.

To allow my work to unfold—not as a forceful act, but as an organic movement, a Dharma of its own.

This is what I want to practice: Holding space for newness. Not rushing toward definition. Not mistaking the first spark for the entire fire.

There is something profound in allowing ourselves to remain in uncertainty. To trust that not knowing is not a void, but an oh so very fertile space.

So, this month, I am dedicating myself to that. To letting things, unfold as they will. To watching my resistance and releasing it, again and again. Things mentioned in prior letters, but I’m still processing. Thank you for joining me on this ride.

A little crab that reminded how cool and unexpected evolution can be... A night at a science museum.

If you haven’t already, subscribe below, and don’t forget to add me to your address book so I don’t land in your spam, sending my love.

- Komikka Patton

Exposed

Tender

2023

Mixed Media Collage, Paper, Watercolor, Acrylic, Spray-paint, Mica, Faux Pearls, India Ink, and Graphite

60 x 48 in

Welcome to the Studio with Komikka! 

As February unfolds—a month often wrapped in the language of love and connection—I find myself contemplating not just relationships with others, but with life itself. What does it mean to surrender, not out of defeat, but through ecstasy? To be tender, not because it’s safe, but because it’s the bravest thing we can offer.

I wrote in my journal not long ago “in the darkness watering as things unfold.” next to notes the explained my use of black and the all-consuming darkness/ space surrounding my figures even in moments of intimacy or tenderness. “But the darkness pulls in everything: shapes and fires, animals, and myself, how easily it gathers them.” from Book of Symbols by Taschen. Often I associate it with the beginning, the end, or a pause. For a lack of a better word Allowance. I would like to think this speaks of surrender as a spiritual tool, not one of passivity but of profound engagement with life’s highest energies. When paired with the wisdom of Tantric practices, surrender becomes more than just letting go—it becomes an invitation to experience the present moment with full-bodied awareness. In Tantric energy, ecstasy isn’t confined to physical sexual experiences; it is the pulse of life itself when we stop resisting, when we open fully to sensation, to emotion, to being.

Drawing, painting, collaging certain engagements had me questioning. Friendships and the roles I play, My own evolution, Vibrations, Love, The essence of a thing, The essence of a realm, Fountains, Bodies of water, Initiations, and Transformations, I got to a place of realization, that revealed a root I had thought I had weeded out. The illusion of deserving. 

This year, my art has followed this path—becoming what some might call vulgar, but what I see as honest and exposed. Each stroke, each form, emerges from a place of surrender, where vulnerability and desire coexist without shame. Inspired by the delicate boldness of shunga and the raw intimacy in Hokusai’s Ehon Tsui no Hinagata, my art seeks to dissolve the boundaries between transcendence, honesty, and being. It is not about provocation but about presence—the willingness to be seen in our most raw, unfiltered states.

Deserving still had permission to creep and integrate quietly into my world and therefore my art because I discovered in my curiosities, I assumed all things I did in vulnerability should be awed at and be whispered about in reverence, because I had somehow conquered something, loved something, revealed what I thought I couldn't, or accomplished something that took a massive amount of effort. My ecstasy, I felt deserved to take center stage and not only that but be praised.

A weed I thought I had weeded out had shown up attached to love

“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”

-Anaïs Nin

My experience of ecstasy began to fluctuate, and I couldn’t understand why. I felt that I understood how to obtain a state of mind, but I couldn’t sustain it. What happens when the present moment feels too intense, too overwhelming to hold? We often think of ecstasy as something external—something to chase, to achieve, to control. But true ecstasy arises when we surrender to what is, even when it shakes us, pulses through us, leaving us breathless.

Lotus Blossoms

In some ways I desired the feeling of letting go of assumptions, responsibilities, labels, ideas, things that conformed, and chained. But something I couldn't let go of was reciprocity, because I felt like I deserved it. And it's something that is understandably looked for, loved, and admired. The capacity to do it as well as receive it. It is associated as a sign of health and safety. As I deepened my questioning, I understood that this was something I also had to give up for initiation to maintain a vibration or to be a vibration, because it was still based in linear duality, the of it wanting at least.

There is a kind of rapture in simply allowing. In the letting go of control, in the softening of resistance, our bodies and spirits can begin to move with life’s natural rhythm. All-consuming rapture is in the room with us; don’t deny it simply because it looks like concession. To not want reciprocity looked like sickness, or craziness, or lack of self-worth. But in my wanting I was not allowing the art of surprise. Similar to Bob Ross’s happy accidents, I caught myself wrapped up in a should, based on past experience or an idea of wellness versus a revealing. Not allowing darkness to reveal her secrets but trying to force my way through based on past experiences with darkness. Surrender may cause us to tremble, breath to quicken, eyes to soften, skin to glisten. And in the aftermath—seen, nurtured, vulnerable, yet wholly satisfied—we find ourselves not diminished, but expanded. Whole.

And in this to maintain, I couldn't expect what I felt or gave to be received, liked, allowed, the same, or reciprocated. But I could allow what comes up to come up and be loved, tended to, and accepted for whatever it may be.

“Vulnerability is not winning or losing; it’s having the courage to show up and be seen when we have no control over the outcome.”

-Brené Brown

Tenderness as Strength

Tenderness isn’t weakness. It’s a radical act of courage to meet life’s intensity not with armor, but with an open heart. It’s the decision to remain soft even when life feels hard, to lean into love even when fear whispers that it’s safer to withdraw.

This mirrors the evolution I’ve seen in my own creative process. Where once I sought to perfect, to control the outcome of each piece, I now let the process guide me. I surrender to the flow, allowing my art to emerge from the space between tension and release. The result is work that feels alive—raw, intimate, and unapologetically exposed. Once again a mirror to my own reality

Hokusai’s ‘Ehon Tsui no Hinagata’

Living in the Downpour

Reflecting on last year’s experiences, I realize now they were never barriers but thresholds. Life wasn’t punishing me with pauses; it was preparing me for deeper connection. I was being asked to slow down, to feel more, to be more.

Spirit whispered: “Don’t tell me what you want. I already know. I’m already giving it to you. It’s not about pushing or chasing. It’s about standing in the downpour of blessings, letting them wash over us, even when they don’t arrive in the form we expected.”

The Invitation

As we move deeper into this year, I invite you to join me in exploring surrender—not as giving up, but as opening up. Whether it’s through art, love, or simply the way we meet each moment, let’s allow ourselves to feel everything. To shake, to pulse, to soften. To glow in the aftermath, vulnerable yet whole.

Let ecstasy be our teacher. Let tenderness be our guide. And let us be seen—not just in our polished moments, but in our raw, exposed truth. Because that, I believe, is the art of being. And that is what keeps me inspired.

If you haven’t already, subscribe below, and don’t forget to add me to your address book so I don’t land in your spam, sending you my love.

 - Komikka Patton

With Intentions To Kill The Artist

Welcome to the Studio with Komikka! 

Visual art has been quiet for me these past few months. I’ve been wandering through the shadowed corridors of other forms of expression, dismantling what I thought I knew. I still remember the days when inspiration burned like an unending flame—when I couldn’t bear to stop, couldn’t bring myself to put down the pen. The urgency of those moments felt eternal, as if creation was my breath.

But something shifted. The stream grew still. What once came so naturally began to feel predictable, rehearsed. I had to confront the edges of myself, not with reverence but with destruction. I’ve come to understand that to move forward, I must dismantle the familiar—to kill the artist I thought I was.

Kill the artist to rediscover curiosity.

Kill the artist to confront the void.

Kill the artist to make space for what’s next.

Other forms of creation offered me reprieve, space to investigate what lies beneath the polished surface of knowing. I found myself immersed in this destructive cycle, questioning and excavating, allowing silence to speak. To write. About death, sex, birth, fear, and much more. And it was in that space that I felt more alive than ever. I felt I had to research that I had to dig to discover something in me. Confront shame and guilt. Talk about guilty pleasure and fantasy. All the things that didn’t have space in my collages. Still, the fragments of my former self lingered—a lotus blooming in stillness here, a crocodile from a dream there, traces of what was, whispering of what could be.

Months passed in this rhythm of deconstruction and reconstruction, of pause and breath. Then, as if by design, The Book of Symbols found its way into my hands. I had glanced at its pages before, but this time, it was different. It landed heavily and stayed. This time it anchored me. The symbols became mirrors, each revealing a layer of myself I had forgotten or overlooked. Which reignited the fire for drawing which is the basis for my visual creations.

The Lotus: Out Of Dark Waters

“All life, rooted in mire, nourished by decomposed matter, growing upward, through fluid and changing medium, opens radiantly into space and light.” - Taschen The Book of Symbols

The lotus, wrapped tightly in its potential, reminded me of the beauty in what is unseen, in what waits. Its stillness taught me to honor the unfolding. Some truths wait to bloom, their petals unfurling only when we are ready to see. although this is a symbol I use quite often the young and innocent blossom holds a quiet kind of magic, it wrapped tightly amongst itself, not yet revealing its petals, not yet showing the fullness of its beauty. it’s innocence lies in it’s patience- in the way it waits, nestled in water that might be murky, trusting the moment when it will open to the light.

There is something profoundly tender about that early stage, the moment when potential is held but not yet realized. The young blossom doesn’t rush. It doesn’t force itself into bloom. It simply is—a soft promise, unassuming yet infinite.

In my art, I have returned to this image again and again: the lotus bud, with its delicate shape and unspoken wisdom. It whispers of beginnings, of the beauty in not yet knowing, in being untouched by the sharp edges of the world.

And yet, it is not fragile. Beneath its innocence lies the strength of its roots, the resilience of its growth through mud and water. The young blossom is both tender and unyielding, reminding me that innocence does not mean weakness. It is a kind of purity that can only come from trusting the process of becoming.

The Crocodile: Protective and Dangerous 

The crocodile, ancient and watchful, called me to embrace the primal forces within—the raw, the enduring, the untamed.

But alongside the lotus has emerged the crocodile—a creature that moves between worlds, both land and water, carrying with it the ancient wisdom of survival. In the context of West African spirituality and Vodun, the crocodile is more than just a creature of the wild. It is a guardian, a symbol of protection, and a bridge to the ancestors. Its connection to water speaks of both life and death, cleansing and rebirth.

The crocodile does not rush. It waits, hidden in stillness, observing. Its quiet patience is the kind that comes from knowing the depths of the world—its primal strength emanates from the calm that comes from understanding what lies beneath. There is power in stillness, in knowing when to act and when to be patient.

I had a dream a few weeks ago, in which the ground beneath my feet were filled with crocodiles. Layers of them lying dormant. There was no Earth only crocs, I will admit that I had already drawn a few by this time, but it was interesting for them to be so many and not necessarily on my side.

These symbols were not merely subjects for my sketches. They became markers of a journey, guiding me through the destruction of ego, the surrender of control, and the rediscovery of wonder.

Now, I find myself here, on the other side of the stillness. I am not the same artist I was months ago. If I am even artist at all. There was time before I became Komikka The Seed, in which I was nothing. Labeless. In a space of…

“Everything must go, Like everything I think I know.” insert Jhenè Aiko.

What lies ahead is not clear, but I know this: I am creating again, not from the need to produce, but from the expansiveness of curiosity.

Perhaps, in the end, this is the truth of all art: to destroy, to rebuild, and to let curiosity lead us toward infinity.

If you haven’t already, subscribe below, and don’t forget to add me to your address book so I don’t land in your spam, sending my love.

- Komikka Patton

Embracing The Cockroach: Beauty Beneath

Welcome to the Studio with Komikka! 

I had an experience while in New York that stayed with me… If we can revisit 9th grade and pick up Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka. You know the book where the man wakes up as a cockroach and has to come to terms with being what society deems as ugly. Kafka challenges the readers to reflect on empathy and themes centered around alienation and dehumanization (I took so many high school reads for granted). Well that was me before dawn that day; I woke up as one of my biggest fears and I am so grateful. There was a lot happening leading up to this moment— a lot of  identifying where I have suppressed fear, allowing my fearful self to be heard, seen, and felt—but this was a very important peak that I have revisited time and time again since. One of many laborious but gratifying peaks. A fear of ugly. The work that I am working on now even stimulated a Revisiting as I found myself adding sores and wounds to my body, presenting them with bejeweled offerings to my future audience. I guess I’m still processing that glorious show of Wangachi Mutu at the New Museum last year. Strange that high school readings can return years later to nest inside your life, like dormant seeds.

“I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself.”
― Franz Kafka, The Metamorphosis

A Body in Bloom: The Blue Lotus and Other Ugly Things

In mud-soaked rivers, the blue lotus blooms without apology, making beauty out of decay, rising and falling in waters that rarely reach the eye. Perhaps we are not so different from these petals, clinging to the world despite the dirt and silt around us. Our wounds and bruises tell a story; they make us worthy to stand beside that lotus in our own way.

The Blue Lotus

For some, it is the symbol of wisdom, rebirth, and the quiet triumph that blossoms from mud-soaked roots, a timeless emblem of our own becoming. Reflections on Beauty and the Blue Lotus

Beauty, like the blue lotus, is born in the darkness and emerges in light. Perhaps what makes it beautiful is that it doesn’t try to hide from the shadows, honoring them as part of the whole. The blue lotus stands in mud and, unashamed, lifts itself to bloom. And that, I’m learning, is what it means to be complete.

Detail of How Volcanoes Are Made

On Perfectionism and Self-Rejection

Perfectionism often stems from internalizing diminished versions of ourselves due to unaccepted aspects of who we are. Culturally, this manifests as societal standards—beauty and beyond. When self-rejection becomes normalized and fear is exploited, it opens the door to self-depreciation. Unaddressed fears breed anxiety, and unresolved shame can take a toll on both mental and physical health. What starts as something small can gradually grow into something of overwhelming significance. Perfectionism: is a mask, a lie that pushes us to forget the beauty in our imperfections. In it, I found a mirror to my own self-doubt, to anxieties that grow when beauty hides too deep. And still, as I spent time with a close friend, talking of Jacob’s Ladder—the heavenly path to creation and descent—I wondered if maybe we are meant to hold both: our light and our darkness, beautiful and bruised. How often do we place ourselves at the foot of that ladder, feeling too heavy to climb?

Photo Cred: Reginald Eldridge Jr.

The bridge between heaven and earth; A crossroads or a portal, or a vagina. And The effort to climb, pursue, or even engage with the divine—the divine in this context is a type of knowing—that blooms as one sheds conditional love. 

Going back to the cockroach experience, After that day, I found myself walking down the streets of New York Introducing myself to cockroaches and telling them that I was grateful for their experience. And the value they brought to me as raw existential beings. 

I realized my problem or fear of them was a fear of my own self. A fear that was acceptable and even understood by my community. No matter which culture one may exist in, a cockroach is told to get out or be killed. Their extermination is acceptable. And some may even pray for the day that we no longer have to face such ugliness. I wonder if the people that wish for this would love themselves still if one day they work the skin of a roach, would they avoid the mirror and abstain from public outings? 

Photo Cred: Reginald Eldridge Jr.

As I mentioned, all of this came back up when working in this piece as I embellished dark marks and placed fossils in a torn open abstract rib cage. Looking at it made me uncomfortable for a few days. I wonder if I would present it as a depiction of my body. If I wanted to claim it. Claim something intentionally and unintentionally made ugly. What would others think, would people want to add it to their collection amongst the beautiful? Did I consider it beautiful? Beauty was a word that was next to my art and I guess now the time to have that tested. Beauty is another limited belief that must break. I had no idea it would affect my art the way it has. I am used to creating images that are complex layered and maybe chaotic and at times I have used the word beautiful to describe the essence or possibly the technique of my work and as I continue to unfold, my own limiting beliefs on beauty and perfection witnessing the transition into, embellishing the grow test and getting comfortable with presenting it as a version of self is incredibly powerful for me emotionally mentally and socially.

Not long ago, someone said to me, “The way you did things before may no longer serve you.” It’s a wisdom I wear now, lighter than the chains of certainty I once held. It’s as if beauty itself were speaking, asking me to let go of perfection, to cherish the rough earth where blue lotuses bloom.

Other Symbols Within The Work

There’s a quiet wisdom in the stones, a memory etched in ancient fossils—a reminder that even in stillness, something endures. Fossils are imprints of time, fragments of life transformed, preserving the echoes of beings that have known survival beyond decay. They carry the shape of what once moved, what once breathed, reminding us that beauty, too, is layered in the marks of endurance.

These remnants are stories in stone, pieces of our past selves we might have buried but never truly lost. As I work, I find myself placing fossils within my art, in abstract rib cages and jagged landscapes, honoring the parts of me that have been scarred but never silenced. Perhaps there is beauty in these scars, in the soft resilience of something unbreakable, left behind to remind us who we are, and how we became.

In art, volcanoes symbolize both creation and destruction, embodying forces that can shape landscapes and obliterate them in moments. They represent the powerful, often volatile emotions lurking beneath the surface—anger, passion, and transformation. As a visual symbol, volcanoes evoke the tension between stability and eruption, between restraint and release, mirroring the intensity of human experience. Artists often use volcanoes to explore themes of rebirth, change, and the raw beauty of nature’s cycles, capturing the power of destruction as a pathway to new forms of creation and growth.

The Dodecagrams symbolizes creation, balance, harmony, created by connecting the 12 intersections of the 12 outer circles necessary to create the egg of life, a cycle of creation. 12 also symbolizes the illusion of time. 

The turtle carries the weight of time, wisdom layered in each step, reminding us that endurance is a form of grace. Its shell, a sanctuary of stone and bone, shields against the world’s harshness, yet within it, there’s softness—a quiet resilience, a slow, unhurried strength. In art, the turtle becomes a guardian of ancient knowledge, a keeper of secrets buried deep within the earth and the waters.

Fear Of Ugly
I caught myself saying “How can a collage artist be afraid of ugly when that is the inspiration to push. Or the inspiration to stop, the inspiration to begin, the inspiration to end. The inspiration to allow or the inspiration to destroy. I felt myself waking into a strange place—one where beauty felt as foreign as a cockroach’s shell. It wasn’t just the insect I had been afraid of—it was a vision of myself in pieces, scattered and real, too vulnerable to feel beautiful. But I had work to do, wounds to reopen and jewels to place inside each mark like offerings for some unknown ceremony.

As I keep shedding what no longer serves, I’m finding that beauty lies in the imperfect, the raw, the brave. May we all embrace the parts of ourselves we’ve been afraid to see, and find, within them, the delicate strength to rise. I’m excited to see where these explorations take me, and I look forward to continuing the work of deprogramming the constructs I’ve internalized. As I continue to break boxes that I have been comfortable living in, I feel more expansive in my perception but also more extensive in my vocabulary to verbally share my experience. Until next time, thank you for coming along.

Photo Cred: Reginald Eldridge Jr.

If you haven’t already, subscribe below, and don’t forget to add me to your address book so I don’t land in your spam, sending my love.

 - Komikka Patton

With Rest, Reflection, and Redirection

Welcome to the Studio with Komikka! 

I recently returned from a much-needed break, during which I spent the summer exploring different islands of Japan, Charlotte, and New York. Upon my return, I took time for introspection and readjusting to being back home. It is a restorative period and I feel inspired by the adventures, which will influence my upcoming plans as I settle back into my routine.

Rest is necessary. It is important to settle matters so that forward movement is deliberate and clear. I firmly believe that when things start to feel obligatory and no longer enjoyable, it's time to change direction. I am deeply engaged in my creative operation, delving into the essence of my being while also exploring the depths of nature. As summer draws to a close and the leaves begin to fall, I have returned to North Carolina to embrace the final thunderstorms and summer showers, savoring the precious water they bring.

Creating space is crucial. I stretch purposefully to make room for new experiences and new perspectives, breaking down barriers to allow new growth. My recent work reflects this theme, where surreal self-portraits reveal my innermost thoughts as I strive to understand the human experience. Just like constantly rearranging a collage, I delve into different aspects of my identity and then reshape them.

Photo Cred: Reginald Eldridge Jr.

The current adjustment period has been embracing various colors and becoming comfortable with handling a lot of information and sensory input. In the past, I avoided this because I was overwhelmed by sensations. I warned myself against overstimulation since I wanted art to be a place of rest, peace, or to incite a meditative energy. Now that I have gained a bit more clarity and respite, I am interested in expressing myself more brightly and adding with greater complexity. A more full and immersive experience that invites a fuller and improved sense of transparency.

I've spent the last two months in a hyper-creative space drawing, rolling around in paint, and inhaling all types of fumes. After such a long time traveling (and creating), It’s nice to regain stability and use the insights, color palettes, and inspirations I gained abroad to create something new and inventive—without worrying about if it will fit in my suitcase. I'm really excited to see and share how my travels have influenced my art and added to my imaginative self.

Environment! Environment! Environment!

My studio spaces like to shift every few months or so whether it's due to roaming or some form of cleaning. I enjoy working in a new and refreshed space, or maybe a different part of the house. Maybe instead of listening to audiobooks, I'm just watching Chinese lifestyle shows on YouTube (me every 2 months). All of it feeds different facets of myself that require my attention and support. I show up in support and it shows up in the art.

TANGENT!

Link to available works here! 

A trip to New York isn’t complete without visiting exhibitions! I was fortunate to visit The Metropolitan where they featured beautiful works from the Harlem Renaissance. This was a time and place for immense Black expression through color, illustrative gestures negating European beauty standards, and radical confrontation of racism through the depiction of joy and family. 

The exhibition showcased the layering of cultural, social, artistic, reflective, and emotional information. I was particularly drawn to certain works on account of their texture. Although my work is through a more intrapersonal, emotional, and cerebral lens, I was drawn to the materials and the layering process where imagery meets storytelling, culture, and triumph. 

Grappling ideas from home and blending them with the constant motion of culture around me to create art overwhelmed (but excited) me. With a new way of seeing, interacting, and integrating mundane objects like cups, dyes, paper, materials, and other things, I have broadened my appreciation for the little things.

Not only in my creative practice but spiritually, mentally, and emotionally, things have gotten more colorful. Some days are quite active in the studio, while some are spent in bed, in front of a computer screen, or laying in the sun wishing for rain. It is through the totality of all experiences that the creative mind really shines; and the allowing of celebration of all experiences that art and profoundness take stage. 

Lately, I've been reflecting a lot on fear and how we tend to hide or suppress it. This theme has influenced my recent artworks and self-portraits, which often focus on the bravery required for introspection. I've been exploring the concept of embracing shadows, having conversations with them, and learning to love them as they are, rather than trying to change them to fit societal norms.

The current work highlights an effort to love unconditionally—to love everything that was once suppressed and/or ignored—because of survival or because of not knowing any better. Color has been added to celebrate the brightening of vision and the expansion of capacity to hold onto a butt load of information, such as texture, lines, shapes, values, all of these visual elements that combine to create an intriguing image or point of view. 

As the mind unlearns and relearns, the art has no other choice than to evolve as well.

I have a deep appreciation for my migrations because I feel some locations bring forth more polished ways of expression while others are more gritty and raw. Some places inspire me to use blood and dirt while others say “maybe lets try the expensive gloss medium… we want it shiny.” Both experiences are essential to my process and heighten the conversation of humanity.

So excited to clean out art and visit family and friends. And most importantly unpack what I've collected on my journey. Stay tuned for what's to come!

If you haven’t already, subscribe below, and don’t forget to add me to your address book so I don’t land in your spam, sending my love.

 - Komikka Patton

With Intentions, Magic, and Reflections

“We are not here to be comfortable. We are here to grow.” 

- Christian Johnson

Welcome to the Studio with Komikka! 

This is what’s in the pot: art, paper, beaches, mountains, ceramics, porcelain, new people, exhibitions, and Japanese experiences and adventures. All these things work together to create a collage of my time spent on Kyūshū island.

A major goal for my time in Japan revolves around Japanese spirituality mirroring African-American/West African spirituality; the focus on simple ritualistic objects, intention, and meticulousness—cleaning and the state of cleanliness, ancestral veneration, drums, bells, smoke, flowers, and more. Finding similarities in how these things are done, whatever the intentions are, has been an interest in my residency.

Putting all these things in a pot and observing what comes of it will take some processing—and I won’t finish processing it for the coming months; the rabbit holes this adventure has taken me on have been incredibly rewarding.

Rooted in Japan

I'm currently settling in Itoshima, Japan—riding bikes, making art, and chit-chatting with artists from all over the world. There are 11 of us in total; I am 1 of 2 artists coming from the States. As a month-long program ended and another group arrived, I decided to stay in Itoshima a little longer.

Places can inspire, influence, and motivate—having the honor to learn from artists husband and wife, Hiro and Sari, and alongside other artists has been an experience full of constant transitions.

Having a critique of each others’ work at the residency.

Traveling to Japan reminded me of the excitement, joy, and sense of adventure I thrive on; the destination, the journey, the fun sharing of spaces with strangers that can bloom into budding friendships. 

Getting to know people has led to potential destinations and the receiving of different cultures, languages, humanisms, and the understanding or functionalities of humanity. Being surrounded by so many people can give different variations of how to be human beyond the experiences of being African-American and womanhood.

Blossoming in Itoshima

As the Sakura blooms, I have an upcoming exhibit in Japan where I will showcase artworks, ceremonial objects, and performance rituals from my two-month stay in Studio Kura.

Dedicated to the parts of self that are deemed unloveable by society and therefore by self (both being interchangeable); looking at the shadow versions of ourselves we can bring them to light—what is hidden becomes enlightened. Conversations of love and compassion with the parts we hide elevate our spirits and consciousness.

My exhibition will take place at Studio Kura on April 27 and 28 from 12 pm - 6 pm.

This installation reveals my shadows and marks moments of spaces I held for very complicated and hurt parts of myself. All things crave love and by loving the Self, we can expand our capacity to hold space for others. Through showing unconditional love for the parts of ourselves that we shun, by effect, we open another space to accept. To do so in the micro effects of the macro.

I invite my audience to start a conversation with those darker parts of themselves that have been neglected out of fear, pride, anger, grief, guilt, and shame. This exercise of acceptance and compassion encourages a deepened relationship and dialogue with God/Source/The Universe and Beyond. 

Brooklyn Bound

More info here

2Blak Tarot Deck Presale Open

The Hermit

Recollection, reexamination, Self-awareness, and Remembrance—Constructed with Reflection in mind and processing with Family, Self, and Spirit; the card is constructed to analyze the process of reevaluation.

Each card was constructed with intention.

The artwork in this deck serves to uplift the Southern Black woman who encompasses moments of endurance and vitality. The illustrations of this deck utilize layering traditional drawing, printmaking, and photo collage; to couple the esoteric with the grounded, often weaving in slivers of African traditions, symbology, and a recurring motif of the sacred feminine to help bring forth ancient archetypes. 

These cards cycle maternity and cosmic spaces, with Vodun and Hoodoo accents and language, highlighting matriarchal freedoms, and honoring Matrilineal culture. Here lies a deep understanding of Southern Black Culture, Black Mysticism, and Black Women; with the recognition that women are the backbone of the African Diaspora. 

Each Black, White, Red, and Yellow illustration highlights the beauty of claiming identity, history, and traditions and reconnecting with something ancient, divine, internal, and eternal, with a gravity that speaks of Birth, Life, Death, and the Afterlife.

“Even though everyone can learn from HERstory with this deck, this deck is a bold testament to black women as it is an all-female deck as only women are depicted through the art.”

- Miala Goldsmith

More info here

The Four Ladies in Itoshima

“Four ladies called North, East, South, and West.”

Found objects with embellishments of lace, string, beads, ribbon, bells, and pins. 

2024

From the perspective of African-American culture, brooms are strong cleansing objects around the world removing evil spirits, sweeping away past wrongs, and cleaning away negative energy. These brooms bought in a 100-yen shop in Itoshima, Japan, which I then embellished, look very similar to African grass brooms. 

I know there are only so many ways to make a broom, but when I saw them, they instantly resonated deeply. The broom is meant to be given respect often in African-American households. 

Turned upside-down, brooms are put at entrances to keep away unwanted guests (I have one over my front door). Sweeping over someone’s feet in my family is liable for an argument and spitting on the broom. Brooms falling over are often omens and sweeping after dark is a big no-no. 

When I saw how beautifully decorated and crafted Japanese brooms were (particularly from the Edo period), I felt incredibly connected to the attention to detail of a shared ritual object. These remarkably crafted brooms mirror the spiritual act of cleansing across cultures—not only in the home but also in sacred spaces. 

Part of my proposal for coming to Japan was to study these similarities in spiritual practices. Although some may look at brooms as just a household item, historically, the broom is incredibly revered for its simplicity and power. 

All of this was inspired by a simple little hand broom in my room. 

Food, Paper, Porcelain, and Ceramics

As projects come to an end, doors open up awaiting newness to enter.
Allowing time for exhibits, meeting artists and locals—and even karaoke—and touristy things.

Paper Mill

For over 300 years, Nao Tesuki Paper Mill produced traditional Japanese paper—washi—from fibers from local kaji (mulberry) trees and continues to do so. In the Saga prefecture, I experienced paper making and dyeing the paper with indigo.

Arita Porcelain & Karatsu Ware

Known as the birthplace of Japanese porcelain, Arita originally produced porcelain exclusively for Japan’s elites. 

Originally created for everyday-use items, Karatsu ware bowls, plates, and other utensils are often used for tea ceremonies. Pottery of this sort gets its name from the high pottery production in the Karatsu ceramic town.

More info on Karatsu Ware here

Kabashima House

Home to about 100 original ukiyo-e prints, Kabashima House is a historic old mansion just a 20-minute bike ride away from Studio Kura.

To Slowing Down 

Slowing down comes more naturally in the countryside, and with slowing down comes more intention. As someone who is constantly battling to stay intentional and rushing to meet deadlines, people, and flights—sometimes I am forgetful of my intentions and have to be constantly reminded that being in the moment is better for focus.

Slowness allows me to lean deeper into the process. Japan has been very helpful in the department of moving at a steady pace and stopping to smell the Sakura. 

More info and insights next month.

If you haven’t already, subscribe below, and don’t forget to add me to your address book so I don’t land in your spam, sending you my love.

 - Komikka Patton

With Divinity in Nature Part 1

“As I embark on a new adventure I am brought back to my roots.”

- Komikka  

Welcome to the Studio with Komikka! Through this channel, one of my goals is to combine collaging and journaling. Some of my most personal profound moments have been with pen and paper, whether ascribing things that have been introspectively in rotation that later become titles for pieces or an exercise to mentally clear space. Writing is a fundamental process in my healing work. Sketching and drawing follow, and then the collaging is the final installation of all these foundational aspects coming together. In the art of making—writing, drawing, and collaging go hand in hand: all of these creative fields invite honesty,  vulnerability, and passion.

Collage Art is one of the most thrifty and healing techniques of creation: giving the opportunity to cut, paste, create, and destroy—all while world-building. Old leaflets, tissue paper, magazines, and scrap paper can be manipulated and transformed into beautiful Art. It's also one of the most sustainable art forms: all you need is an idea, paper, an adhesive, and a pair of scissors to get started. As collages are a flexible medium, the ability to create from old drawings, prints, writings, and creating harmonious compositions inspired by the natural world—around or within—is wonderfully healing. I draw inspiration from my experience and choose to focus on aspects that represent my humanness applying creative and expansive techniques with life’s journey. Collage Art is a perfect place to start developing artistic skills, thinking outside the box, and creating worlds that allow access beyond confinements and limitations.

The Seed Heads to Japan 

Studying at Studio Kura in Fukuoka and Artist Residency in Japan; I’ll be walking distance to the Sea, the Mountains, rice fields, and Shinto shrines! Fukuoka houses one of Japan's oldest and most sacred shrines, Munakata Taisha Shrine, along with numerous shrines within the rural municipality.

Goal in Fukuoka: To Be and observe, absorb, experience, and create in an environment that nurtures and supports growth.

Growing up in a spiritually-gifted family in North Carolina, the unseen and engagement with what some would consider taboo was accepted, feared, and celebrated. We understood and had the ability to seek spiritual direction and relief from healers, medicine women, and comforters. We incorporated charms, amulets, baths, oils, and prayer into our day to day, celebrating history, knowledge, and faith! All of these elements added to my interest in visiting a place also shrouded in faith and spiritual connection. I saw similarities in practices and celebration. My work highlights these connections through narration, storytelling, bits of grandma, the occult, and beyond; Japan offers another lens in which to see these things.

I can say, honestly, I am not a big fan of landscapes, but Shintoism has transformed how I see nature. It has deepened my desire to personify and venerate landscapes and locations to add conceptual content and symbolism. This further shows sacredness through moods, seasons, and nature. 

Taking Work Overseas 

I am an artist and drawer at heart and this has helped me when traveling abroad without breaking the bank on shipping costs. Paper and Pen can be found anywhere and what’s super cool about traveling is that a lot of places specialize in their own paper. There is so much to discover in the world of paper from material, texture, and thickness. Paper has so much flexibility; it is durable and yet fragile—able to bend and fold, be cut, torn, stitched, glued, painted, and so much more. All throughout the years, I have had some intense learning curves when it comes to transporting paper, installing paper (without framing), and keeping drawing exciting. Because of these experiences, I've gathered some paper traveling tips:

Buy those adjustable plastic tubes for drawing at your local art store (mine are from Blick). No need to pay for shipping! During air travel, you can have them as a carry-on! Caution! When traveling internationally they will open it and look inside. I would NOT recommend over-stuffing or wrapping it in film. The good thing about buying quality paper is the ability to iron it. Also you can place paper between boards and add weight to straighten it out. Try leaving it under a weight for as long as you can.

In Japan, I am using found objects to weigh down my drawings and I let the paper straighten for 36 hours. I recommend using a board to help with consistent weight, but do what you can (I didn't have a board). Artists are constantly meeting new challenges and overcoming them.

Favorite Paper:

I look for printmaking paper which is usually paper that can hold up to water, preferably 100% cotton or some natural material.

BFK Rives, Arches, and Stonehenge are my favorite universal papers. BFK Rives has a bit of tooth (texture) but is soft; it is great for blending and ink work. Arches is also great for this and Watercolor paper in various GSMs (grams per square meter), which determines the weight of the paper. Stonehenge is less expensive and smooth.

If you are interested in paper with various weights and fibers, some brands offer sample packets of different papers to experiment with (a great idea for collaging and gift ideas when traveling). A great thing about durable paper is its capacity of being ironed! This is vital for presentation and uncurling (straightening) paper after packing, transporting, or for style.  

Things to consider when looking at paper:

• Texture

• Press

• Shade

• Quality

• Weight

• Sizing 

Paper Glossary 

• Hot Press: Smooth surface.

• Cold Press: Slight texture on surface which allows for a variety of mark making.

• Rough: Rough surface – not the best for detailing – but great for complex mark making.

• Shade: Color of the paper. Paper comes in all different colors and so many shades of white, from bright-bright white to cream and beige. Definitely something to consider when choosing how to best represent your art. 

• Quality: Expensive paper matters! My favorite universal papers are in the affordable range. They are archival, acid-free, and made from cotton. High quality papers are usually strong and withstand heavy manipulation. 

• Weight: The GSM of the paper matters because it depends on how much water you can use. The heavier the paper, the more likely it is able to hold water: better for water soluble materials, water, acrylics, ink, and whatever else you can think of. 

• Sizing: Sizing is what binds the paper pulp together. It is what stabilizes the paper and allows for heavy manipulation. Basically it determines what materials you can use on the paper without it falling apart.
  

Who Has My Attention?

Chiharu Shiota
A Tide of Emotions

Chiharu Shiota, an international Japanese artist, known for her site-specific installations in which she weaves enormous webs from black, white, or red yarn and turns entire galleries into labyrinthine environments. Her awe-inspiring works speak on anxiety, identity, loss, and memory. Shiota reminds me of the possibilities of engaging with the audience through collective memory in a simple, informative, and imaginative way.

I am excited to continue to share my journey in Japan!

Subscribe below for monthly updates and don’t forget to add me to your address book so I don’t land in your spam!

 - Komikka Patton

With Commencements, Potential, and Kineticism

Charm V (Activation)

2023

Mixed Media Collage, Paper, Watercolor, Acrylic, Spray Paint, Mica, Pearls, India Ink, Wax, and Curio

10 x 10 in 

Welcome to The Studio with Komikka! I started the year revisiting lessons that involved keeping an open heart space, shadow integration, and active listening. This time of year, I love winter because it is a great season for deep, deep diving into Self, processing experiences, and thoughts that warmer seasons distract us from. It is here that I am reinspired by old creative thoughts or learning to let go of them. It is also here where I begin to prepare soil to plant new seeds.

“Art is important for it commemorates the seasons of the soul, or a special or tragic event in the soul’s journey. Art is not just for oneself, not just a marker of one’s own understanding. It is also a map for those who follow after us.”

- Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estés

Coming up this month…

Special One-Night exhibit at the Mint Museum Randolph Thursday, February 8 from 6:30pm-8:30pm!

Hosted by Young Affiliates of the Mint, this exhibition will feature works by Komikka Patton, Davita Galloway, Georgie Nakima, and DaRemen, with cultural experiences to celebrate Black History Month, including a Q&A with artists.

More info here

Collections

Channel Of Communication (Progress)

2023

Mixed Media Collage, Paper, Watercolor, Acrylic, Spray Paint, Mica, Pearls, India Ink, and Thread

Channel Of Communication (Detail)

2023

Mixed Media Collage, Paper, Watercolor, Acrylic,Spray Paint, Mica, Pearls, India Ink, and Thread

OFFICIALLY A PART OF THE ST. CLAIRE COLLECTION!

Channel of Communication honors the space between the human and spiritual worlds. A bridge between divinity and humanity—a symbolic crossroads.

Current Exhibition

Upcoming Exhibition

On View

South Orange Performing Art Center

I Embrace Change

2023

Mixed Media Collage, Paper, Watercolor, Acrylic, Spray Paint, Mica, Pearls, and India Ink

30 x 30 in

The Art of Death. The moment in which we accept that things will never be the same and move into that newness with excitement–even with limited vision. Not having the ability to see the complete picture or the future, and having faith in Self and beyond, acting as a guide to encourage us to step into the unknown.

"Those who are dead are never gone: the dead are not dead." 

- Birango Diop

Here, an Ethiopian woman stands in surrender and acknowledges that beliefs and practices touch on and inform every facet of human life. It is here that we notice the grandiosity of the mundane. African Spirituality has always been able to adapt to change and allow itself to absorb the wisdom and views of more than what meets the eye. Wrapped in the rapture of communicating with the divine, the woman sets her sights on the infinite possibility of what is coming. With many hands outstretched, she is ready and willing to receive. Where brown meets black and white, and the inner workings are exposed to meet the unknown.

Charm V (Detail)

2023

Mixed Media Collage, Paper, Watercolor, Acrylic, Spray Paint, Mica, Pearls, India Ink, Wax, and Curio

10 x 10 in 

Are you listening? Charm V represents the ringing of the ears as a sign that your ancestors are trying to speak with you. An ancestral relationship is vital; the development and nurturing of that relationship strengthens awareness and receptivity. This relationship guides us to the opening of The Channels of Communication with the divine, the sacred, the past, and the future.  

The potential of sound is a bridge connecting the spiritual realm to the physical. For thousands of years, chimes, bells, and trinkets invoke, cleanse, bring attention to, and reach out beyond the visible realm. Bells summon us toward healing and divinity. This work is an invitation and acknowledgment of sound having the power to transform experiences–the choice to answer that call or to call out.

Who Has My Attention?

ARTIST: Malene Reynolds Laugesen

Laugesen is one of those artists that captivates with story and simplicity. Stunning compositions, limited color palette, and amazing attention to detail–all things I find so fun.

On The Move

Next time we connect, I'll be in Japan! 

Subscribe below and try adding me to your address book so I don’t land in your spam!

 - Komikka Patton

With Prayers, Dances, Songs, and Offerings

---

Welcome to The Studio with Komikka! This space holds monthly insider scoops of my art, events, travel plans, unique perspectives, and behind-the-scenes efforts of my processes. As an Artist on the move, my physical movement throughout the world embodies constant reflections of internal growth within my work. 

Using ink, paper, and collage to create works centrally based on the complexity of the human condition and Soul, my Mixed Media Collages touch on futurism, transhumanism, mythology, and storytelling.

Each piece intends to be reflective, authentic, and thought-provoking; therefore, my artwork features collaged scenes, possibilities, and experiences to encourage acceptance and deep understanding, ushering into the abyss, and meeting at an equilibrium of life and death. 

Not only does my art encourage inner growth from within, but challenges what we think we know with a willingness to step into the unknown and the hopes of shining light on what we would rather hide or have yet to discover about ourselves.

Growing up in the South as a Black woman, I have a deep understanding of Southern Black culture. Specifically, Southern Black women have stood as an example of complex emotional and spiritual intellectual thought because of composite circumstances and roles. They have stood as martyrs, tall and regal, like lotuses rising from murky waters.

Encouraging discourse around the good, the bad, the ugly, and the beautiful, I wish to represent an authentic expression of living and engaging with the world while alleviating old and new pains transmuting them into creative expression.

I invite viewers to see beyond repeating cycles – in our inner worlds and their outward reflections – to embrace uncharted territories and to ask existential questions about Humanity, Universal laws, Cosmic Powers and Forces, and the Universe’s actualization. These views summon discussions about love, peace, bliss, and transparency in our actualities. Through these conversations, we observe and participate in the art of being and growing. 

Spending time in The Studio will be more than just my artwork; it will be a space to provide monthly updates on my upcoming events and exhibitions, keep in touch with those I haven’t spoken with in a while, and exclusive looks into my mind about my work.

Subscribe below and try adding me to your address book so I don’t land in your spam!

Until next time.

- Komikka Patton

---