I AM an Artist, right?

Yes. I am Artist.

As a child, I identified early as an artist. Or wanted to, at least. Every year’s Christmas wish list was for more art supplies. I was always making something. Even the mud from neighboring construction was my supplies. Water and mud. I’d sit for hours making bowls and cups and vases (pronounced VOZZZes) out of the rich clay soil. Set them to dry overnight on some random board. All the time I was pretending to be an artist, not realizing…I AM AN ARTIST!

The imposter syndrome stuck for years!

Despite true efforts to become the artist I wished to be, I couldn’t fulfill the title in my brain. Didn’t dare say I was an Artist, because it felt like a brag.

I worked so hard my senior year putting together my portfolio for Art school submissions, only to have my parents insist I attend an all female college, St Catherine’s in St. Paul. I was asked to leave after 6 months. They were upset I had applied my art skills to the halls of the Whitby dormitory (with pastels. Washes right off!!). Beautiful, larger than life Greek figures, accompanied by existential poetry, influenced by a big fat buzz. Suzanne McBride, Ann and Anne and I did it. Cranking Jim Morrison, and giggling the whole time. Mary S. turned us in. HA!!! What a time!! Something tells me Mary is out there banning books somewhere now. She had a hard shell. Bless her. It’s one of the best things to ever happen to me.

In my early twenties, while performing for a few years with Dudley Riggs Brave New Workshop in Minneapolis. (a sketch/improv institution) I was also immersed in the Artist community. (I don’t know if Artist should be capitalized, but I do it out of respect. In the same way I always remove power from cancer with a little c. We all have our little things, don’t we?). Where was I? Oh yeah… I was chums with some of the BEST Artists of the Twin Cities. Charlie Thysell (HUGE influence. RIP), Aldo Moroni, Ann Marsden (RIP), Gus Gustafson (RIP), Scott Seekins, etc. I was at the monthly Art crawls down in the warehouse district. New French Cafe for sunsets, staying through until close. Stumbling back to my apartment in Loring Park. SUCH an influential time.I cherish it. I got to live something very special. But! I stopped painting. I never told any of them I paint too. I feared they would laugh. HA!!

Late 80’s found me working for the mouse down in Florida. A soul succubus. It’s no wonder I made my way back to canvas and color. Seeking flow as all my other vitals seemed to be shutting down. I think it saved me! But it was just a pastime, right? By this time I settled into being known as an actor. For all the times I’ve been pissed at Hollywood for trying to put me in a box, I may have done it to myself first.

I kept my art as a pastime for decades. A dabbler. A few days of pretending here and there. I even lived in a huge warehouse space in NE Minneapolis. 1331 Tyler Street. Doug Argue lived across the hall (look him up! His work is incredible!) I was still so desperate to somehow fulfill my dream of being an Artist. The lengths I would go! Closet full of berets. So many hats. Good thing I love hats.

When my first marriage was failing, I used the excuse of “I need my own studio to paint” to rent a tiny studio in Hollywood at the old Gershwin Hollywood hotel. Wonderfully eccentric, riding on the edge of tragedy. Artist/drag QUEEN Garilyn Brune (RIP) lived across the hall. I loved our chats. (Noticing a very sad trend of Artist friends gone too soon!). I started to get more ‘serious’ about my painting at this point. I had to. I was spending $600. per month to be so selfish! Truth is, I needed to step away into a place, a room, that was all me. My Ex had taken up the garage with a recording studio, so I felt it was only fair I have my own studio. Especially when you consider I was funding both. But it was selfish. It certainly didn’t help the marriage. All’s well that ends well. The divorce ultimately got me my own studio at home. In that garage. With soundproof walls. Which definitely came in handy when I would scream paint, and cry paint all night long. NOW I was becoming a true Artist!!! HA!

Pictured below is one such painting from that time. Layers upon layers of words and anger and tears and screams. I call it “The Committee” (2 .5 ft x 6 ft , I think? Oil on canvas). It was certainly loud in my head those days.

I often wonder if it was those days that paved the chemical path to my cancer (little c, big trouble). After my diagnosis in 2011, I began painting at a feverish pace. Daily. Hour after hour. I found that when I was painting, my dark thoughts disappeared. There was no room for fear between me and the canvas. Just color, shape, form, fluidity… linseed oil….and me. It was medicine! I also began experimenting with my style a lot more, yet I could always see my style coming through. Very round!! Lots of curvy shapes! I even tried to paint a picture once using all sharp edges, triangles. The end result was still circles! (See below) I guess I’m always going in circles!

Heads. I paint a lot of heads. People! I find it a bit interesting that even in my art I am creating people. Much like my “character actress” career! Not all the time though. Sometimes my head is in the clouds…

So. After decades of BEING an Artist, I am FINALLY ready to admit: I am an Artist. Like the good witch Glenda says to Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, “You’ve had the power all along”. (Insert Glenda, smiley face emoji here. Oh, she was pretty!!!).

This week I went live with my website. It was terrifying! HA!! A whole new audience type! It’s like I can’t find enough ways in life for people to reject me. HA!! OR NOT!!!! That’s the thing…I might just do alright! Either way, I still do it for me. To stay me. I’d be lying if I said I don’t thoroughly enjoy when someone falls in love with a piece of mine. I know what that’s like. There’s so many pieces of Art in the world that have moved me so much! Like a song that stirs the heart, and you wish to see it over and over to take on different meaning over time.

I’m back to painting nearly everyday. Painting, writing, and hopefully one day acting again. (C’mon AMPTP!!! Give us our fair share!! [sag/aftra strike]) I have 11 NEW pieces of which I am selling limited edition signed prints. Very swish of me, eh? And they are gorgeous, if I do say so myself. Good quality. If you’re at all curious at this point, head to www.MoCollinsArt.com (Below is a video peek into my studio world. Listen close, you can still hear the years of tears in there. But mostly joy).

Would love to hear who some of your favorite artists are! I’m always looking for new inspiration, and old.

I hope you’re well!

XOMO