Today we’d like to introduce you to Ivy Rose Smith.
Hi Ivy, we’d love for you to start by introducing yourself.
In the Fall of 2013 during a rugby match, I sustained a pretty nasty head and neck injury. I developed seizure-like episodes, and constant migraines and my hands shook constantly.
My vision also started to deteriorate: I had pressure on my optic nerve and had to get glasses for the first time. I felt like a stranger in my own body and was terrified that it would impact my ability to make art.
I struggled for a long time in coming to terms with my injury. Then, in the Spring of 2016, everything changed. I was enrolled in a course called “The Artist Naturalist” in which we studied environmentalist artists and created art as a reflection of our observations of nature.
Early on in the course, our professor was teaching us about how to use Micron Pens, specifically on Denril paper (Denril paper is opaque and slick). Our homework assignment was to draw straight lines on the paper without making them smudge. The assignment was difficult for your average bear but throw in shaky hands and it was nearly impossible.
This is how I learned how to meditate: I spent hours upon hours sitting with that Denril paper trying to make straight lines. Hours. And then, as if I was full of magic (which I am!) I was finally able to draw straight lines. Through this constant and repetitive motion, I was able to teach my hands to no longer shake. At first, it required ALL my focus. Then, it became second nature. From this process, I became obsessed with what my brain could do if I just trusted her. Thus, my illustrations were born.
My artwork transformed from intrusive perfectionist obsession to meditative flow. I call these my “brain dumps” where I allow myself to create and then analyze the symbolism afterward. For me, this became a healing process for more than just my head injury: it became a healing process for things that I didn’t yet fully understand about myself and the world around me. For the first time in my life, I felt like I could trust myself.
Through this process of healing and acceptance, I felt like I was able to taste true freedom. My ultimate goal as an artist is to share that freedom with others so no one ever has to feel alone.
Fast forward to 2022, I am now utilizing these skill sets to help myself process repressed memories and traumas that have resurfaced during the post-pandemic. Painting and drawing have been an immense comfort for me as I try to make sense of flashbacks and deep, deep sadness.
It has been a journey and will continue to be one. But I’m working on and through it. Slowly but surely.
I’m sure you wouldn’t say it’s been obstacle-free, but so far would you say the journey has been a fairly smooth road?
My journey has been anything but smooth.
I grew up poor in a rural small town in northern Maryland with little access to resources (for context, we used floppy discs WELL into 2010). We lived on a farm and I spent endless hours outside with nature alone. I’ve always been a quiet observer. I found peace, safety, and escape in the humming of the woods.
My dad lost his job the year before I went to middle school and we were homeless for a period of time. I frequently refer to this time period as “when I became an adult,” even though I was really only 11 or 12 years old. Unfortunately, this meant that I also lost my sacred nature space on the farm. I was devastated.
My dad started drinking, my mom started sleeping, and I started my eating disorder. My artwork was very dark as a child. As an adult, I can see that these pieces were a scream for help but the only people who really listened were my guidance counselors and my Grammy. I moved out of my parents’ home when I was 17. I felt very alone in the world and didn’t think it would matter to anyone if I just disappeared.
In the summer of 2012 (the summer before my senior year of high school), I almost died. I passed out at work and was rushed to the emergency room. The ER doctor told me that my eating disorder had gotten so bad that if I didn’t check myself into inpatient, I would die in the next two weeks. My heart had become so weak that it couldn’t stabilize me. So, I checked myself into Sheppard Pratt and spent six months trying to tame my anorexia.
During this time, I also had an extremely abusive boyfriend. I had lived with him for a period of time when I left my parents house. I so desperately wanted to be loved by anyone and for whatever reason, I convinced myself that it was love (it wasn’t). Shortly after I was released from inpatient, my then-boyfriend, in an abusive rage after telling me how ugly I was, shaved my head completely.
Although this moment still haunts me to this day, it was a dramatic turning point for me. He and I broke up shortly after, I was admitted to St. Mary’s College of Maryland and had my future planned, and things were starting to look up. This moment also helped me to connect more deeply with feminism and advocacy.
My undergrad was pretty smooth until my sexual assaults in my junior year. I’m still learning to deconstruct what happened to me. During the pandemic, I started to experience a delayed PSTD trauma response and have been slowly falling downhill ever since. I think my brain knew that I had done all of this self-worth work and that I was finally ready to address the deep, deep pain that those experiences caused me. Slowly but surely, I am chipping away at what happened.
This exploration has also helped me understand my sexuality and gender identity. I’m still trying to figure out exactly what that means to me but I know I’m some sort of sexy mystery? Coming from a very Irish Catholic childhood home, this has also been an interesting journey for me that has often been faced with anger from my family.
All of this being said, although these hardships have taken a toll on me, they have also fueled my creativity, advocacy, and passion. My artwork has become a way for me to heal as I navigate my mental and chronic illness, heal from trauma, and connect with my inner child.
My life now consists of addressing parts of me that I have felt shame for in the past. The things that have haunted me now become beautiful menageries of pain and rebirth. I am on a mission to find and be fulfilled by true authenticity and ownership of my past selves.
Thanks for sharing that. So, maybe next you can tell us a bit more about your work?
I specialize in surrealist fine art and fashion. Inspired by the revolutionary post-war Dadaists and the resurrection of the stream of consciousness of the Surrealists, my artwork captures what it’s like to experience beauty, gratitude, sacrifice, strength, resilience, and growth.
My fashion is meant to feel like a warm hug from someone who feels broken too and knows healing can be lonely (I think everyone can relate to that, especially after the collective trauma we experienced in the Pandemic). I like to say that “I am chaos incarnate and I know I’m not the only one.”
My current series of paintings is called “The Void: Screaming Into.” I exclusively paint on black canvases because they feel more perpetual and vast. This allows the dreamy thematic elements to be in further question than they were to start with. My pieces are fairly chaotic and don’t follow traditional color norms. I listen to music when I paint which impacts my color choices because I have synesthesia (I see colors and shapes when I listen to music).
I am interested in creating environments that could exist but are just enough off of the reality that it makes the viewer uncomfortable. This series is heavily focused on repressed memories from my childhood and young adult life as a way to form a deeper connection with my inner child.
I am most proud of the intrapersonal growth and confidence that I have developed from creating and launching my clothing line. There is something really special about honoring what your younger self always dreamed of. I feel as though every day I am creating more space in my heart for myself, my people, and others.
My well of empathy and resilience grows deeper every day.
What are your plans for the future?
My hope is to become an artist full-time and hire my husband Brett as my first employee. That’s definitely my biggest goal for the next year. Brett has been so supportive of me and we work (or parallel play as we like to call it!) well together. I truly could not do any of this without his passion, humor, and empowerment.
We are a dream team! Within five years, I am hoping to begin an artist collective in Baltimore for other women and nonbinary folks to support each other in launching creative businesses. There really is no playbook for being a professional artist and that can feel really isolating.
I want to change that. I firmly believe that my artistic vision can change the world so here’s to hoping that that is my 20-year plan!
Contact Info:
- Email: artistivyrose@gmail.com
- Website: ivyrose.art
- Instagram: @artistivyrose
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/artistivyrose/
