Japanese artist Yayoi Kusama, who died on 14 August.
I’ve shared this before, but growing up in White Christian Nationalism left no room for an arts education. Art glorified sin. Artists were depraved sinners. Art museums were dens of filth.
Part of my extensive reprogramming included a do-it-myself art education. Starting in my 30s, I visited practically every art museum in every city, town, hamlet, or holler I stumbled across. I bought my first piece of art at age 32. I still have the small seascape by female Mexican artist Valencia Garcia, a reminder of a random visit to Carmel, CA just after 9/11.
Along the way, few artists have delighted me as much as Japanese outsider Yayoi Kusama. She was a fierce non-conformist. I mean, who couldn’t love a woman who crashed the Venice Biennale and set up her own illegal exhibit? Her pieces are weird and dreamy, lewd and childlike, shocking and calm.
But mostly, I think art was a way for her to find hope in the throes of mental illness. She spent decades in an institution by her own choice, where she passed most of her days creating. Her magical pieces are the hope she leaves us.
What gave YOU hope this week?
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