Girls Just Want to Have Fun!

The evolution of "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" reveals a fascinating interplay between conscious practical decisions and deeper subconscious impulses. When this painting was first conceived several years ago, it began modestly with just two white girls in the scene, while the rest of the setting remained largely as it appears now. This initial rendition hung on my wall, prompting a persistent feeling that something more was needed.

The Voyeur's Brief Appearance

The first notable evolution in this piece included a male figure. A boy behind a tree, observing the girls with binoculars—a "peeping tom." This addition was initially intended to introduce an element of playfulness and acknowledge how men might seek pleasure through observing nude women. However, after reflection, I decided against this portrayal. The inclusion of such a figure would have shifted the narrative from the women's uninhibited self-expression and joy to a voyeuristic perspective, potentially undermining the very essence of freedom and inner satisfaction that I wished to convey. The removal of this figure underscored my commitment to centering the narrative on the women's experience and their inherent qualities, rather than subjecting them to an external male gaze.

In a moment of artistic confusion, I even reported this fictional peeping tom to authorities for voyeurism—a surreal act that highlighted my internal conflict about the character's presence. When I mentioned this guy to the authorities, I was told that if the girls were swimming in wilderness or public areas, the observer would have had as much right to watch as the girls had to swim. Nevertheless, the ethical implications troubled me, so I painted over the figure. Even if I hadn't, the poor character would likely have fled in fear anyway, perhaps leaving behind his binoculars hidden under the lush shrubs by the trees.  Perhaps his presence would have diminished the artwork's suitability for exhibitions or could have been objectionable to some audience.  This was only the first intervention.

Expanding the Circle of Joy

Later, I felt the exhilarating water and captivating scene deserved more than two figures. Why shouldn't these girls invite more friends to share these joyous moments? I decided to add another figure. This decision marked an exciting exploration of diversity within the uninhibited setting. After completion, the painting returned to the wall with three girls, but after several months, a nagging sense of incompleteness lingered. I felt it needed a more "jolly mood," which led to adding another girl playfully splashing water in the face of one of the girls. This inspiration not only made the scene more playful but also manifested my inner desire for uninhabited joy.

The Final Addition

A couple of years later, once again, I gazed at my creation and once again witnessed not enough excitement in the scene. I noticed a wide open space in the middle of the pond that seemed wasted space in my art. Suddenly, I was struck by a profound question: why had I not included a Black girl in the scene? This realization opened a "can of worms" as I grappled with internal questions about potential commercial concerns—whether a racially mixed group might hinder sales—and even the uncomfortable thought of personal bias. It was imperative to respond to my internal questions.  Ultimately, I concluded that a Black girl was absolutely necessary in the pond. The newly girl, gracefully submerging in the water with the subtle reflection of sunlight on her body to complete a vibrant portrayal of "Girls Just Want to Have Fun."

Art as Living Document

A fascinating aspect of my artistic process, particularly evident in "Girls Just Want to Have Fun," is the dynamic and evolving nature of my artworks. Every time a notion compels me to modify a piece, I find myself contemplating how to explain these changes, especially since these artworks are displayed on my website and in various exhibitions. This ongoing need for explanation creates a curious dynamic, as my paintings, much like Oscar Wilde's "Picture of Dorian Gray," exist in a constant state of flux, mirroring my changing moods and reflecting my evolving psyche. The very act of alteration reveals profound personal truths.

For instance, when I added the Black girl, I recall thinking about how I would articulate this decision if questioned. I envisioned explaining that these girls simply had a friend who wanted to join their celebration. This inherent inclination to justify changes reflects the profound impact of my inner state on the artwork. It fascinates me because I frequently wonder why these ideas for additions and revisions didn't occur during the initial conception phase. I have no clear answer, as I believe I am subconsciously influenced by external stimuli, which then trigger something within my mind, revealing insights and creative impulses I never consciously knew existed.

This, to me, is the true meaning of art: it's not merely a conscious creation, but an emanation from a subconscious realm that I am only beginning to understand. This process proves profoundly therapeutic, as it unveils hidden aspects of myself and the human experience.