Melissa Stephens Art

Last fall I submitted an artist statement and several of my paintings and drawings to the Bellefonte Art Museum in hopes of being accepted, through a juried process, to their Artist Registry. A lovely friend in my Outdoor Art Group encouraged me past my fear of rejection to apply. Her belief in my art prompted me to take the leap and, happy ending, to be accepted! I’ll be one of 53 participating artists in the Art Museum’s upcoming exhibition entitled, “What’s in a Word? – The Art of Interpretation,” on display from May 2 – June 29, 2025.  We’re each creating a piece of art in response to a single word prompt. The word I was assigned … “beauty.”

Beauty, I thought, that should be easy? My favorite subject material is flowers and, for me, flowers epitomize the beauty of nature. At the time I was working on a large canvas of sunflowers in a field, loving the combination of purples, yellows and greens. Is there anything more beautiful than a field of sunflowers? Unfortunately, there are strict size limitations for artwork in the show and that canvas is too big. Sugar! Back to the drawing board!

I turned my attention to a set of three pear paintings I started last year that stalled when I couldn’t decide on a background color. Anyone who says perfectionism doesn’t beget procrastination is lying! I liked the backgrounds I’d created and was afraid to ruin them. Yet I have a precious watercolor painting of 3 delightfully simple green pairs my mom made before she died, and I’ve been hoping to add one of my paintings to hers and a few other works of art I’ve collected to create a gallery wall in our kitchen. That motivation pushed me past my resistance, and I finished the pieces I’d started, two of which I really like, quite pretty, I thought. Then I pondered …  pretty, is that the same as beauty? Feeling better that I had something I could submit, nevertheless I again went back to the drawing board.

My usual process in beginning a painting is to create a background that’s energetic, colorful, and messy; starting paintings is inordinately fun! Then I collage small pieces of old papers I’ve collected: sheet music, maps, dictionary pages, Farmer’s Almanacs, children’s books, etc. on top of that. With additional layers of paint, the final design reveals itself from the chaos of those initial layers underneath (photo below). My hope is that some tiny bits of the paper will peek through in the finished painting, creating more visual interest the closer you get to the piece. This time, however, I decided to try something different. I started a new series of florals by covering the entire background with collage papers (photos below), challenging myself to allow as many of the underlying words and notes and images to remain visible as possible.

Because this was a different approach for me and because I was trying to manifest my prompt, “beauty,” I wrote the phrase, “different is beautiful,” in permanent marker repetitively over the collaged background. Next, I drew a rough sketch of a vase and flowers with a new mark-making tool for me, a water-soluble graphite pencil. I knew when I touched those lines with a liquid medium, such as acrylic paint, they would smudge, and I wanted to see how I would respond to that. The more I worked, the more I understood I wanted these paintings to feel raw and unpolished, different, not pretty. I loved the busy collage papers so much, I didn’t want to obscure them with an opaque background and so I created a nearly transparent, off-white glaze. I tried not to obsess over the imperfections, that surely is different for me!  Throughout the process I found myself returning, over and over, to the intention I wrote into the work at the start, “different is beautiful.” It encouraged me to make bolder and bolder choices, like finishing an entire floral painting without using the color green!

As I worked, I realized I was engaging in a dialogue with myself on the question, “what is beauty?” Is it superficial or does it include the layers underneath? Is it based solely on our polished, outward appearance or is it inclusive of our scars, our uneven pigmentation, and our wrinkles, our “character” as my mom would have called it? Is it influenced by the clothing we wear over our bodies or by the radiance we shine from deep within when we bare our authentic selves? Is there a standard, a “normal”, a yardstick to measure? Is it based on our weight, or skin color, or the faith we profess? Can we only be beautiful if we conform to the gender we were assigned at birth? Does it prefer one sexual orientation over another? Is it a judgmental relative who casts dismissive glances, deeming but a few gifted, some adequate, and most lacking? Or is it a best friend whose gaze lingers, knowingly accepting us with unconditional positive regard, quirks and all? Is it as dogmatic as black and white or as nuanced as (name your #) shades of gray? Is it pretty? Or is it different, honest and real?

My hope is that I continue, in my art and in my life, to grow the idea that different truly is beautiful, beautifully smudged, beautifully transparent, beautifully imperfect. My hope is that I see beauty in others, no matter how “different” they may look or speak or act. My hope is that each of us is free to live without fear of rejection or scorn or judgement, and that, with or without the color green, we all feel seen and celebrated and beautiful.