Aliza Bejarano 3/22/25 Aliza Bejarano 3/22/25

The Dangerous Trope of the Tortured Artist

Spoiler: You don't have to be tortured to be an Artist

TW: I’ll be speaking on a traumatic event I experienced, mention of PTSD and alcoholism.

Somehow by contextualizing artists' ability to make great art as a result of their suffering, there is a justification for the why behind the art making and a purpose behind the torment.

In 2016 I ran for my life. Not many Americans know what happened on Bastille Day in Nice, France that year.

I had won a scholarship to study abroad and expand my awareness of Impressionism and the Greats that brought it to life. I was young and hopeful for my art to one day hang on walls in pristinely lit galleries. I wasn’t sure of my style or overall theme of what I wanted to express or how, but I knew my purpose was to create. I’d spend days with no sleep, from sun up to sun down, painting, researching, practicing. I wanted so badly to be an artist I’d cycle into moments that turned into months of despair and desperation lamenting the possibility of just falling into obscurity without my art ever having meant anything. I saw this trip as a supplemental turning point that added to my new position as an interning assistant curator. Here, I would recreate myself, open myself up to new possibilities.

Then a massacre occurred on the Promenade de Anglais - almost 100 people perished.

This hadn’t been the first traumatic experience in my life, but it was the first time everyone I knew had watched what I had experienced on the news.

I felt like an open wound with every nerve exposed to every element. The rawness of this vulnerability made me want to step outside my skin. Claw my way out so that I wouldn’t have to know it. I replayed the night in my head over and over wondering how in our drunken state from our celebration we were able to get away. I replayed the words from one of my peers over in my head, I had been inconsolably crying as we waited for our friends to arrive back safely when she told me, “This seems to have affected you more than anyone else, maybe you should find someone to talk to.”

I spent the remainder of my trip painting in parks and gazing in awe at the masterworks of Renoir and Bonnard. Tears seemed to never leave my eyes. I had found a small sketchbook in an art supply store and made sure to keep my thoughts from racing by dragging the colorful markers I carried with me across this tiny paper. Scrawling lines together as we walked to museums and historical monuments. Documenting thoughts I knew would haunt me at night or with my next glass of Rose.

I started to doubt my purpose. If all of the suffering I had already experienced in my life wasn’t enough that I would now have to experience more, what was the point of anything? This didn’t push me to make more art. It made me want to hide and never speak or laugh again.

When I returned home, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I was overcome by the vulnerability in the people who shared their experiences with me from their home country, and what acclimating to a new life was like for them. It confused me when people started introducing me to new acquaintances as, “the girl who was in the terrorist attack.” An identity I didn’t realize was no longer my own but one given to me.

My own swirling and overwhelming emotions surprised me. I felt guilty, humbled, angry, and resentful. But I was especially shocked by a particular comment that came from other artists with a big, eager smile painted across their faces -

“Imagine the art that will come from this.”

Initially it disgusted me.

This strange sentiment that sounded less like an encouragement to express myself and more of a suggestion to commoditize what was at that time a unique experience. A comment that skipped past all polite pleasantries and sympathies and dove straight into a commercialized idea of what to do with a suffering I had in me, one that they didn’t know of and never thought to ask about. And why would they ask?

As a society we don’t want to know the details of someone’s suffering. We like to see the overcoming of, the highlighted cliff notes toward an inevitable triumph through pain. We like to see the fruit from a sugarcoated labor. We want to know what the happy ending looks like after all the mess. And the mess in question?

Make sure it’s entertaining, otherwise we don’t want to see it.

And from the outside, my suffering was hugely entertaining. The life of the party, a “breath of fresh air” in the authenticity I seemed to carry in myself. I drowned my panic and terror in alcohol, became incredibly vulnerable when I spoke and told my stories in a frank and casual way. As if it was all behind me, I feigned the air of a now healed, confident, strong and independent individual.

I was still in art school pumping out homework based portraits while desperately trying to unpack this devastating existentialism I found myself in. I rooted through my sexuality and the male gaze while persistently being enveloped by the understanding of what humans were capable of doing to each other on a world scale. I wasn’t naive to this understanding before my traumatic encounter in France, but it had shaken my faith in anything human or spiritual.

I wanted to strip down to the most basic form. Being human felt dirty and dangerous. I went to shows topless, I exposed myself to the world in performance not to figure out who I was but why I was. I had just begun to come to terms with myself in the world as a woman and what that meant for me in the grand scheme of my life. What would that look like as an artist? What did that mean for the pain I had already experienced? The layers felt never ending and my creations became abstract. All I cared about was what path I could take that would lead me away from this feeling. I painted shapes and drew lines that in my mind were roads. I did it obsessively, compulsively, hoping one day it would become a map of something I could understand. I used my body more and painted those hopeful maps onto my skin, I imagined the paint hiding me away from the world while it ate at the rest of me. But was it art-making? I wanted so badly to give up. I put myself in dangerous situations as a way to test fate. To laugh in the face of whatever had saved me.

I wasn’t making art. I was unraveling.

When I painted I would remember the cloud of lingering trauma throughout the city. A truck would backfire and an entire street filled with people would turn to make sure everything was okay. Flashbacks of tourists and hotel employees sobbing in the lobby as we watched the count of injured and deceased rise as each hour passed. The feeling of an entire city in mourning like a film of sweat on my skin that I couldn’t wash off.

The thought of doing anything aside from pushing the boundary of my own perceived youthful invincibility was devastating. I was sick often with upper respiratory infections every other month. I drank with no end and even scheduled my hangovers to make things work. I felt the weight of the world as if I was at the bottom of the sea, praying that something would pull me back up to the surface. But every time I tried to reach out all I would be met with was,

“You’re just having fun!”
”Put it in your art.”
”But isn’t that just how artists are?”

I felt trapped inside the toxic and dangerous narrative of what I had always aspired to become: An Artist, a “real” artist. But the only thing I could even begin to imagine creating was a hole in the Earth somewhere that I could bury myself in so I could find peace from what I couldn’t stop feeling.

What I’ve come to realize almost 10 years later is that the trope of the tortured artist is a romanticized fantasy of a person whose suffering magically flows out from the depths of them and transforms into something inspiring. From a distance, the moody, broody, sensitive nature of this idyllic character is endearing.

People love to watch and read about the caricatured stories of historical figures who rebelled against the wrongdoings of their time. They admire the candid complexity and misadventures of characters like Bojack Horseman and House. But when faced with the reality of these characters in their everyday lives without the frame of entertainment securing a safe distance from their stable lives, they are no longer palatable or endearing characters. They become criminals, alcoholics, and narcissists.

They become regular people.

When we hear stories about any prolific and successful artist, the first thing we encounter is their often times, heartbreaking and difficult past. We’re immersed in the suffocating pain they endured in their early life and follow their journey into a glorious conquering of their torment through their discovery of their passion in art.

The aspect of these stories that aren’t always underlined is that these artists usually had some kind of support, however minimal. Whether it was emotional or financial, they had someone for some period of time that cheered them on, that got them help, that got them connected, that made sure they were fed, and sheltered.

The most notable example that comes up in conversations like this is Van Gogh. Although the most common narrative of Van Gogh is one of the penniless, madman who never got to see his fame, the reality of his story however tragic is filled with love and support at the very least from his brother.

Theo Van Gogh is not often mentioned in the same context of the narrative of the Vincent Van Gogh, despite his continuous and unwavering support of his brother’s art career. He used his expertise as an art dealer to share his brother’s art with everyone he knew and would send him monthly allowances so that he could focus solely on his craft. After both Vincent and Theo Van Gogh’s death, Theo’s wife, Johanna van Gogh-Bonger dedicated the rest of her life to ensuring that Van Gogh’s legacy was established and widespread.

Van Gogh failed at a lot of things before his focus turned to painting. He’d try his hand as an art dealer, language teacher, preacher, bookseller, and missionary worker all to no avail. Although he started his career in painting later in life (in comparison to other aspiring artists at that time) at the age of 27, over the next 10 years of his life he would create over 2000 works. Studying and practicing on his own determined to connect with the world around him.

Like the majority of creative minds, Vincent found a comfort in painting. It was his escape from the bouts of depression and mania that he would experience throughout his life and his connection to nature and his environment. He gave so much of himself to this endeavor not just as catharsis but as a career. He had a few exhibitions in his lifetime that were highly praised, despite him only selling at most two of his pieces. There is even evidence to show that his demise wasn't intentionally self-inflicted, but an accident that ended with his determination to keep the child whose hand held the gun, safe. And within the entire context of this story filled with a brother's faith and a man's all-encompassing dedication to his new-found passion, the singular part of the story that rings out across generations is that Vincent Van Gogh was a tortured artist and that was how he was able to make great art. Despite the fact that the very reason we know of Van Gogh at all was thanks to the captivating words written in the letters between him and his brother - an unyielding connection and trust in what could be. And if not for Johanna’s tenacity in fulfilling this wish, they would be lost to the void of time, buried with the years Van Gogh spent nurtured by his sibling.

Somehow by contextualizing artists' ability to make great art as a result of their suffering, there is a justification for the why behind the art making and a purpose behind the torment they endured.

As many artists do, I see myself in Van Gogh. Perpetually agonized by an ache that lives at the bottom of an endless depth of feelings, unwavering even in the face of everyday responsibilities and societal pressures. Waves of immense grief and joy over the simplicities of life that come out in big expressions that escape just being on canvas or paper. The woe of constantly realizing that others find me out of place in a world where expression should stay in pretty formulated pictures and limited in other areas of life.

I often wonder what might have been had I found support for my illness or even the acknowledgement that it was there in the first place. I wonder about the suffering I may have been able to miss if I had had the tools to manage the pain from it sooner. If there was someone like Theo who could have walked the steps with me toward a path of healing early on.

I’m about to be 35, two years younger than Van Gogh was when he passed. My suffering was layered with many experiences that affected me in a multitude of ways and aspects of my life, no one experience making my journey harder than the other. Although there are many could-have-beens that come to mind some days, I find reclamation in reaching my Bipolar diagnosis now at this age. A kind of second chance at healing, at surrounding myself with support, love, and acknowledgement for every facet of my being and essence. Another opportunity to be vulnerable in my art and as an individual, to express the deep bounds of who I am and what I believe in, in a way that doesn’t destroy me or hide pain. That will never hide away who or why I am again.

When we romanticize people and their lives it’s very easy to fall into a yearning for a bigger meaning. Many people have these absolutely gut wrenching stories that make you wonder how they could have possibly survived. It’s even more overwhelming to think of the extent of that pain and watch the person who came from it make something awe-inspiring, beautiful, complex, and outside of the realm of your own imagination. As artists, we often hear the question, “How do you even think of this?”

It is truly a disservice to that person - who has struggled and labored over this finely tuned craft despite everything, who so nakedly expresses and shares the transformation of that pain into beauty with the public - to over glorify their hardship and have it receive the sole credit for their talent. To overlook the years of dedication, of discipline, of monumental sacrifice over their often times profuse desire to stay hidden.

The “Tortured Artist” trope erases the humanity of talented, creative people. It keeps them from receiving foundational support that allows them to truly thrive. We should be applauding and ruminating over the hope and perseverance they had to continue creating despite internal chaos and celebrating the people that helped them get there.

What I wish I could have told 2016 me is that she was always an artist. Through the struggle and the pain, when she walked into AA, when she sought out therapy, she was still an artist. I wish I could have told her that she would always be one, too. Not because of her turmoil or even her healing, but because of the way she saw the world, her eagerness to express and connect, because of the beauty she sees and inspects within every morsel of life.

You are an artist, because you simply are.

Aliza Bejarano 7/18/22 Aliza Bejarano 7/18/22

In the Grind

It’s been a while!

Sometimes, to make art, you have to take a lot of time to see art. And just the same as any tasty meal, you need time to digest it. So instead of writing about it much or even making it, I’ve been digesting and brainstorming instead.

I even took a little break from posting my art on social media. Which some would say is a no-no. Once you stop the toil of consistent posting, you lose momentum in the algorithm. But a break from the pressure of that toiling is MUCH needed when you’re in the storm of starting to make something new.

I’ve had a few shows with Houston Artists Official, Houston Millennials, the Bridgeland Art Crawl, and am a resident artist at the Pearland Art Gallery. With everything going on in the world, sales have not been great, but that isn’t usually my end goal with showing or making art.

All of the people I’ve met at these shows have been so encouraging and welcoming, from the hosts, to the artists, and the visitors. Many of them have been inspiring and even open to collaborating on some new projects I’m working on now (when am I not working on new stuff, though?).

It’s always been pretty hard for me to feel like I’m included, in part because it’s hard for me to trust that I am and in part because a lot of times I’m really not.

I think it’s difficult for people to understand how an artist might not be so easily welcomed in certain spaces — because art is supposed to be wild, free, and fun, right? But through the years that I’ve been doing this and making my way I’ve come to realize that art scenes and the art world are just mini versions of what we already see in society as a whole. The people who don’t understand it in our society, won’t or don’t want to understand it in the art world either.

Of course, some messed up things have happened that might have me question whether or not I belong here, but it’s not in me to stop trying. The more I do, the more people I find that I’ve been able to connect to on a level I didn’t realize was possible. And I’m so deeply grateful and relieved in finding that connection!

As I mentioned, my art hasn’t been flying off the walls like they were last year (not enough to pay the rent, anyway). So I did have to go back to my teaching job.

Six days a week, sometimes 12 hours a day.

It isn’t a regular teaching job, and on its own, teaching is incredibly demanding physically, mentally, and emotionally. So, much of the time I get back into my studio already exhausted and drained, hoping that some ounce of creative juice might spill out onto the canvas before I have to knock out, wake up, and do it all over again.

I do my best not to be too disappointed when nothing happens, because I’m still an artist. I still get excited about the colors I see, the small things I notice, the reference photos I take, and the things that I doodle.

I’m also realizing I may have to apologize to some of my art teachers, because these hard-headed art students are not for the faint of heart. And I know for a fact that I was one. Though, I do see that you have to be this hard-headed to want to keep doing this crazy thing.

I’ve been so tired. But this weekend I’m going back into another art show and I’m planning to have all new work for it. Still pushing forward! Still in the process of becoming more vulnerable in this writing that I share with you and in my work.

See you at the next show!

Aliza Bejarano 3/18/22 Aliza Bejarano 3/18/22

Spring time for an Artist

It’s been 4 months since I quit my day job and things have been going smoothly! I’ve been able to sustain myself through my commissions and web design work. And yes I’m definitely still calling myself a full time artist despite having website work!

Of course there are days I start to worry — will there be more work later, should I get a back up 9-5 just in case, maybe I’m not cut out for this? But just as I’m on the edge of total despair something always pops up. Another opportunity, someone mentioning how inspired they were by my work or a conversation that we had had.
It’s so easy to fall back into a desperate spiral of doubt. Especially when things aren’t happening as quickly as you’d like them to. But somehow

I am so excited for all the doors that have been opening for me! I was invited to show work at Artesaname — a new artist collective in Crosby, TX offering classes, yoga, sound baths, and art. Melodia Becerra will be officially opening her new venture March 22, open throughout the week 9am - 7pm except Sundays.

I also happened upon Artisan Marketplace in Alvin, TX — Tina Salazar redesigns her own antique furniture, artwork, and also offers classes out of her store. She was gracious enough to share her space with me at the Round Top Antique Show in Round Top, TX — a world renowned show filled with treasures, gourmet food, and art.

The past month and a half has been a lot of zoning out on my art, preparing for whats to come, and slowly easing my way out into the world.

I have been sober for 4 years now, but it is still a process sitting in my natural self and feeling comfortable letting people see it. I’m still learning and forgiving myself and things from my past as I continue to grow into the person I’m meant to be. 2021 was the first year I had the chance to rediscover my sober self because of COVID. My adventure now is moving forward with my art hustle, nurturing my sobriety, and taking care of my grieving heart.

It takes cyclical hibernation periods to do this and not get overwhelmed.

Disconnecting from the world, spending time alone, knowing my boundaries and making them clear, resting when I need to, and reaching out and coming back into the world when I have the energy. Also a lot of tea baths and incense. That helps a lot.

The long term goal here is to have my own art space someday! Where I can show and sell my own work, teach classes, and offer the space to other artists as well. In the meantime I am soaking in all the good stuff coming to me and the good people I’m running into!

Aliza Bejarano 1/16/22 Aliza Bejarano 1/16/22

A New Year with COVID

I’ve had COVID for the last two weeks, stuck in bed for the first seven days not able to do much of anything. My dad found his own place and me and my partner took over the lease. So we were technically in the middle of a move, too.

Maneuvering being sick, trying not to get my dad sick, and having a queue of work to get done has had me pretty discouraged and depressed. Not being able to physically jump out of bed and get right to work like I usually do goes against my natural rhythm. However, this kind of setback isn’t new to me (I mean, the COVID part of it obviously is). And if you also suffer from Depression or Anxiety it might sound familiar to you.

I mentioned it before in a recent post, Living Life While Arting — sometimes life happens and it makes creating your art a lot more difficult.

My mental cycles are pretty predictable at this point in my life. Several months of hyper activity and then a few weeks to a month of bedridden Depression. Becoming physically unable to create is mentally debilitating for those of us whose work is also an outlet and our ongoing healing process. Not only is it a mental hindrance, it also becomes a financial one.

That’s why it’s important to understand your own natural rhythms and give yourself Buffer Time.
I know that there will be a point in time where I might not be able to be as quick as I usually am. So when I’m calculating deadlines for my collectors I include that extra time for whatever kind of Life thing that might happen. Whether it’s illness, mental strain, or my natural cyclical rhythm that forces me to rest.

Buffer Time is coupled with needing Buffer Money to supplement the longer time spent working toward that deadline. So I also try to have at least three jobs in line with reasonable Buffer Times included in their deadlines.

None of this has EVER been easy, but with everything going on in the world today and COVID entangled throughout it everything feels even more like you’re pushing against the stream.
I do my best to remember where I’m at right now vs where I was a year ago. And all the ups and downs I’ve had between then and now. That I’m here now because I got through it all. I’m doing my art full time, I have work, I’m selling my art, I have a house with a wonderful partner, and me and my family are happy and healthy.

This year I want to focus on my health and my joy. Because the hustle feels great when I do.
My COVID symptoms are almost all gone and my energy is back.

So let’s make it happen 2022.

Aliza Bejarano 12/11/21 Aliza Bejarano 12/11/21

A Look Back at 2021

This year has been literally INSANE. I feel it, I know it, but it’s sometimes hard for me to realize exactly how much has happened or how much I’ve really done. So, let’s recap shall we?

January 2021

I took a cross country road trip from California to Virginia to drop off my ex and get him moved in to his new place after his mom died on New Year’s Eve. We talked to her as she passed via video call. I reminded her of a story she told me about when she was a little girl. I told her that she would always be that little girl with the red wagon, giving her love to everyone she encountered. And then she was gone. I saw snow again. I drove to Texas from Virginia to pickup keys to our new place and spent a night in the empty space. I remember being absolutely shocked at the silence. No cars driving by, no people talking. Just me and my own thoughts echoing into the rooms of a foreign house.
Then I drove back to California on my own. It was freeing and sad. Realizing that for the most part now I was on my own.

Here’s something I wrote about her.
https://www.facebook.com/aliza.bejarano/posts/10225637510110433

February 2021

Saying goodbye to California. Trying to figure out how badly I might miss it. Driving through my hometown, visiting places that I spent time with friends and family. Wondering if I would be able to create something just as special in Texas. If the art scene is as awesome, as invested. Worrying how alone I might be there.
Packing endlessly, preparing to move, and throwing out my back 2398472984723 times.
Throughout all that still painting and working on commissions.

March 2021

Missing my mom as I take down all of her decorations, knick knacks, and packing her clothes. Realizing all the new things I was about to embark on without her. Wishing she was here. Leaving a balloon and flowers at her favorite church in town for her birthday. Going through my dad’s collection of mementos and work for the last 50 years. Driving me and Tiberius out to Houston in my car that’s known trips like this.

Tiberius stayed sitting in the place that my mom used to work at everyday. Even though it’d been almost a year later, I think he was stilling waiting on her to come back.

April 2021

Met the love of my life.

May 2021

Set up my home studio to keep making art and trying to gain back momentum for my online art business after it had been paused for the move. Turned 31 and realized I spent all of my year 30 packing and in a state of shock. I still don’t remember much of it.

June 2021

Met my Houston bestie!

Sharing all our ambitious thoughts and dreams with each other! Let’s conquer the world!!

July 2021

Found an artist residency for a new gallery opening in Houston. During the interview I was completely disarmed when the curator told me she was a sexual assault survivor. I signed paperwork to join the gallery that same day.

When I first saw the house I wondered if we would really be able to fill it up with how enormous it was. And to my unfortunate surprise we DID. THE UNPACKING!!! WE’RE STILL NOT DONE UNPACKING!!!

August 2021

Drove back to California with my partner in life to pickup some of my art stuff for the new studio. I was excited for him to meet my brother and some friends. I had a chance to release a few more sad memories and make a few new great ones.

My first art show in Houston was super fun! I got to show my partner and new bestie my art side and my work. I met some amazing artists and leaders of the collective - that tasty networking.

September 2021

The grand opening of Gallery Skye was impressive — almost every artist sold at least one thing. There were tons of people moving through the gallery and my studio. I loved being in my element again, talking up my art and meeting an endless amount of people who were enchanted not only by my work but by how much of it there was.

I made $1000 in art sales that night.

I found a job working as an art teacher to school-age kids from pre-k to high school. I’m still convinced that they are all little geniuses.

October 2021

Joined the Houston Artists’ vending event and realized how incredibly unprepared I am to vend! A lot of my art set up is still in California. I did the best I could with what I had and wound up having a great time. The Houston Artists collective had an awesome group of creative people — artists, performers, designers, poets, entrepreneurs. The variety of different passions was impressive.

They have another event coming up if you want to check it out!

My aunt dying was a hard blow. Especially the circumstances of her death. But in her extremely detailed wishes the main theme was that we rejoice in each others’ company and spend time together as a family. She sent us all to her favorite place in Cancun. We cried for a night, sitting in the memory of her and all the joy she brought into the world, and then in her honor we laughed for the rest of our time there.

Some of my cousins were also remembering my mom with me, my brother, and my dad in that moment. We all miss them both so much.

Getting kicked out of my artist residency was also a sudden shock. I wasn’t expecting to be accused of criminal activity in a place was meant for me to work. You can read more about that story here.

I won Jerry’s Artarama’s Halloween art contest! There were about 20 paintings up for popular vote for about two weeks and I got 1st place! This was the first art contest I’ve ever won!!! $100 gift card for my awesome pumpkin!

November 2021

It didn’t take long for me to become overwhelmed by the strenuous day-to-day involved with teaching 20 kids at a time 6 days a week. I realized what an investment this job was and that it might be more fitting for someone who was looking for a career in teaching children. And although I did love the job and what I did there, I needed to focus on putting my energy into my own work. So I decided to leave (and maybe sub every once in a while). You can read more about this decision here.

I was also invited to be WIVLA’s visual co-chair on their board of directors! The president of the organization said that I really hadn’t been a member long enough to be invited yet, but that my experience was too good to pass up.
So honored!

Today

This month (and last month) I have been making preparations to be completely self-sufficient from my own creative business ventures throughout the upcoming year. Right now I can proudly say I’m a full time artist!

In the 10+ years that I’ve been working on my art and art business, I had so many different visions of what it would look like to be “a real artist.” I don’t think I ever imagined that it would wind up just being me learning things I enjoy and then doing things I was naturally good at. That isn’t to say that it was easy by any means (because it really wasn’t and it is STILL a grind). But it wasn’t as impossible as everyone made it out to be.

There will always be obstacles and crazy life things happening, but my sanctuary will always be in my art.

I have so many new projects underway and on the horizon!! I have several commissions, contest entries, and this window in the works right now. It will be my first Houston mural project! Make sure to keep up on my socials for updates, and don’t forget to get on that mailing list if you haven’t already! It’s going to be amazing!

Happy Holidays, guys. Love you.

Aliza Bejarano 11/4/21 Aliza Bejarano 11/4/21

Choosing Art Over Capitalism

I have always been torn about having a “regular” job. At first I thought that meant a nine-to-five, office, clock-in, always have to wear makeup in the morning, kind of job. But even after trying to maneuver my way around that structure I’ve come to realize that it isn’t just that regular nine-to-five I’m so desperate to avoid.

It’s having a boss I have to answer to that isn’t me. Any boss good or bad that evaluates me and what I do based on their own personal bias and experience. Which at times can turn into a trap — where I’m constantly trying to prove my value and worth to someone who will never see me or what I have to offer. Or who will never pay me what I’m worth. But even beyond the money, I have to think about my time and where my energy is going. Do I want to use my time to help someone else build their dream, or do I want to use that time to build mine?

This job I’ve had teaching kids has been AMAZING. I love being their teacher, love watching them learn about art, love seeing their eyes light up when they realize they can create something out of nothing. But at the end of the day I have to consider where these hours of my time are going. Am I going to dedicate time into having a career as an art teacher?

Seeing what my current boss has built and how long she’s been doing it for has been truly inspiring. It has also been a joy to be surrounded by art on a regular basis. But I have to be honest with myself about where I find that joy and be intentional about how and where I activate my creativity. This part is something that I think not a lot of people will understand. Because if it’s art-related and you like making art, can’t you just make your own art on your own time and keep that day job? Not really.

The same way anyone can experience burnout in their work, school, or even emotionally, you can definitely get burnt out activating your creative Self too often. And if by the end of the day you’ve used it all up there isn’t much time or energy left to create the things you really want. This is just as bad as if you had a day job that didn’t active that creative part of you at all. It might actually be worse.

I’ve been very nervous to leave this job or even limit my hours. Part of it is feeling guilty for the kids, because I love teaching them so much. And part of it is having to have a lot of faith in what I’m doing with my art now. Even though my art has proven to be lucrative on its own so far, it’s still a scary jump to make.

I think in the long run I’ll thank myself.

Aliza Bejarano 10/20/21 Aliza Bejarano 10/20/21

A Funeral & An Eviction

My aunt Luli was someone you would call free-spirited.

I guess it ran in the family because my mom was the same way. The difference being that while both of them loved to be free and have fun, Luli liked to push potential into greatness. She was assertive, a business woman, and loved to help people grow into the best versions of themselves.

Her last request was that her family gather to her favorite place and spread her ashes in the ocean — in Cancun, Mexico. Throughout our trip we’d pause to marvel at how crazy the idea was. We’d cry at the thought of her absence and then laugh because we knew she’d be laughing at us for being sad in such a beautiful place surrounded by family.

And it really was beautiful. The ceremony, the hotel, the company. I still can’t believe I was there.

I got back from my aunt's funeral to find out I've been kicked out of my artist residency & studio at Gallery Skye.

Despite the owner approving my lending the key out to her family friend's young daughter who was interning for me, she said I'd become a liability to the gallery. For lending the key to someone they knew I was training out of my studio, who they've known for at least a decade, to represent me while I had to be unexpectedly out of town. And apparently for letting that same intern in to retrieve her art from the gallery the night she too was evicted from the space.

It was excessive to say the least to subtly threaten me with her attorney after asking to change the prorated end date, because they had already changed the locks on me. And after so many requests on their part for feedback and ideas, to say I'm "running over" them is sad.

I went to move out of the studio today and when I went to ask for the prorated check that was promised, was met with another surprise.

That the Curator and owner both would sit there and call me and my hardworking friends criminals, accuse us of "criminal activity," breaking and entering, and question whether I had stolen from the gallery was something I never expected. That they would suddenly try to hold the check they never intended on writing so that they could sit and lecture me about my disrespect toward them when all throughout my time there I had to listen to them gossip about me and my bad attitude, each other, and other people in the gallery from their office. I'm shocked. Appalled. And honestly embarrassed for ever having allowed my business to be run from a place managed by people like this.

"She's a cop, she would know."

Know what? What a criminal/criminal activity looks like? What does that look like? Me and my friends working hard in a place we're unwanted? I can only guess.

How do you run a business without having the ability to have proper conflict resolution or accept critique?

It's a shame to see a gallery have such little value and respect for their artists or the livelihood of those artists' business. Especially one that claims to be committed to building a community.

I'm so tired. And just very sad.

Aliza Bejarano 10/6/21 Aliza Bejarano 10/6/21

Living Life While Arting

2020 was not friendly to anyone. Maybe to those who genuinely enjoy staying inside lavishing in their alone time. But even they have to admit that the whole year was at the very least strange, uncomfortable, and out of control.

I’ve found so many blessings this year through moving to Texas. My new friends, my partner, my studio, my new teaching job, all the art people and family I’ve connected with. But the overall transition has been anything but easy.

Especially with the recent passing of my mom’s sister.

When you hear you have to find the “why” behind your passion, business, or craft, this is the reason. Because when things get so hard your general motivation to do much of anything waivers, you have to link yourself back to the bigger picture and convince yourself not to give up. This is the “why” that makes it all worth it. That keeps you trying and yearning to grow your dream.

I’ve been tired.
Tired of losing people I love and of life’s everyday money-hustle. Of not being respected as an artist or in general as a human. Getting up everyday and having even the most foundational motivation can be hard to find in myself at times.

But I come back to remembering how much those people I loved supported me and my passion. How hard they worked to push me to do and reach out to realize all the things I ever wanted. And what a shame it would be to sit on those dreams now that they’re gone.

It’s so hard to keep pushing without them.
But I have to.

So I keep painting. I keep building my tribe — more people like my mom and aunt who support and cherish me and what I do. I keep finding work that will inspire me. Like Enya Studio, teaching and inspiring kids who want to make their own art. And I see myself in them, imagining that my mom and my aunt did this, too.

I try to imagine what they might tell me. Sometimes I dream about it. And usually it’s the same advice they’ve always given me:

Take steps to do the things you love. Relax when you need to, and when you do relax HARD. Take advantage of every opportunity you have to enjoy it and have fun. Find that fun every little thing you do.

I miss them.

Aliza Bejarano 9/8/21 Aliza Bejarano 9/8/21

My First Open Studio in Houston

Opening night for Gallery Skye has come and gone so quickly!!

It happened so fast I didn’t even have time to write about it beforehand. I went to California to pick up more of my work (but still only a small fraction of all that I have), came back, spent a week setting everything up in my new studio, and suddenly opening night was upon us.

It was one of the best shows I’ve ever had! I met amazing Houston artists, seasoned and established in their craft — many award winners (one of which was recognized by the White House). They had valuable feedback for me that I applied immediately and sold a couple pieces to equally amazing people.

Ann Marie Carrizales and Gail Meyer now own pieces of my work and I am so honored!

Ann Marie Carrizales, Aliza J Bejarano, Mikayla Rae

The group behind this gallery is so impressive (almost daunting). I can’t wait to show Houston everything I can do and all that my art has to offer. The waves being made now I’ve felt before in LA, but being supported by these powerful, successful women just hits different.

Arianna Taylor, Kellis Charles Lewis, Aliza J Bejarano, Alex Arizpe

Shout out to my pre-fiance and partner in life! Kellis Charles Lewis has kept me calm, cool, and collected through my transition from California to Texas and as I establish my art practice out of Houston. We are planning some exciting new work together out of my studio for Gallery Skye’s next opening October 1st.

And Arianna Taylor, my Texas bestie! She has been such a powerful influence in my life in Texas and I’m so happy to have met her! Her ambition and go-getter attitude inspires me to keep working at my dreams even when things get dicey. We are also in the process of creating beautiful work together in hopes of inspiring even more creative people in the Houston area and hopefully beyond!

I am so proud of the community and friends I am cultivating here and some of which are here from what I had grown in LA (Hi Alex)! I love them all very much and feel so cared for and supported in return.

Everything that happens here on out are the cherries on top.

Aliza Bejarano 8/2/21 Aliza Bejarano 8/2/21

I'm a Resident Artist in Houston!

**New Beginnings, New Spaces**

I had honestly nearly given up on applying to open calls and residencies but here we are!

I applied and had an interview with the gallery’s curator. She handed me my acceptance letter right there over coffee! They are just opening up and want to bring the community together through art and give back to it and its creative population. Now I’m waiting for the remodeling for this new space to be done so that I can add my touch to my new studio and wall space.

While I wait, I’m gathering my work, ideas, and building up my circle. Finding artists and joining groups with other creative entrepreneurs who are actively working on their dream and who are supportive of each other. I deeply believe that success happens in strong groups of people who are dedicated to their craft and whose intentions aim for the higher good vs individual success or progress alone. So many of the stories, movies, and art we love now came from individuals who practiced and got feedback from encouraging, like-minded peers. I’m excited to see the humans I find and what we can create together.

There is so much potential in all the space that I’ve found! I can’t wait to host shows and teach classes again. If you know anyone who’d like to be a part of this growing idea send them this link for updates: http://eepurl.com/glR-lD

Taking in and digesting all this new information — the landscape, the people, the ambiance — has me trying to organize my sense of self as an individual and in my work. All the things I’ve learned so far aren’t altogether applicable where I’m at now and I’m having to understand myself and my art all over again in this new environment.

I guess with COVID everyone is having to do some form of this. And still allow in their plans an expert level of room for “and if this all falls apart again then…” As an eternal optimist, I’m still continuing to piece together all the things I want and push forward the best that I can with what I have. I hope for the best, and whatever else happens to become an obstacle I examine as it comes. Things are so constantly in flux there isn’t time to ruminate over what could happen. But it only makes sense to have a few backup plans wherever possible.

So while I’m super excited to map out all of my future projects and implement my plans, I try to remember to be at peace with and fully transparent about whatever the outcome.