Rising Renewed: The Journey of Recreating My First Painting

I’m in the film studio talking to our production director, Euro, about the first painting I ever created when I was 15 years old, affectionately called the “Two Floating Egg-Heads.” He asks if we can get video footage of the painting somehow.

“Sure! It’s still at my parents’ house in Arizona, and Jake and Dimitra are traveling there over the holidays. Jake can shoot some video,” I say.

“You know, you should recreate that painting with everything you know about today! It could be the best before and after we have ever seen,” Euro tells me.

I immediately see it and love the idea.

“I can't believe I have never thought about doing that! What a great idea! We should make a YouTube video about it.”

The project excites me, and I see right away how I can improve the idea. My main obstacle will be not changing it so much that it doesn't even look like the first painting.

I remember being really proud of the shiny lips and trying my best to make the egg-head women look like their faces were wet. I think it was way too ambitious for a first painting, and looking back, I didn't pull it off. So this time around, I want to really nail the wet face look and make it seem like the women have just come out of the water, almost like a renewal or baptism of sorts.

I’m also excited to give the flowers an upgrade. My first flowers were terrible, and I could definitely make them better.

Back to the Beginning

I have to decide on the features of the women and what kind of look I want to create. In the original, I was trying to paint Hawaiian women. I lived in Hawaii and thought the women there were very beautiful and exotic. That's why they have darker skin and full lips. But, unfortunately, my skills were not very good, and I don't think they looked very beautiful or Hawaiian. I know this time I can get the look right, creating two women that look similar but not like twins. I want them to look related, like sisters.

I start the piece right away and choose a large canvas similar to the size of the original. As I begin painting in the features of the women, the water beneath them, and the flowers surrounding them, memories start flooding back to me. I remember where I was when I painted the original and what I was thinking.

As I paint the lips of one of the women, I suddenly fly through a time portal and feel like I’m 15 again. All of my insecurity and awful self-image come flooding back. I remember hiding away in the back of the art building where no one would see me painting in a low-lit room. I didn't tell anyone what I was doing. Only my art teacher knew. I would have died if any of my friends saw what I was trying to do.

I knew that I was an insecure shy teenager, but I forgot what it felt like and the darkness that surrounded me at that time. I was untethered to God, my flopping silver cord lost in the winds of adolescence.

I forgot that I was painting my best friend (I’ll call her Sammy) and me. We were the two egg-heads in the painting. Sammy was the one on the right with the flower over her eye because I couldn't get the two eyes to line up. The other woman was me. Sammy was the sister I never had but always wanted. We were inseparable. She either spent the night at my house or I spent the night at hers. We were soul sisters.

Painting Memories

Sammy was the artist of our high school. Everyone asked her for drawings and knew she was the most creative person among us. We went through all of our stages together—from skate punks, to goth, to party girls. We tried all the drugs, snuck out to be with boys, rode around in stolen cars, and rebelled against our parents and drove them crazy.

I went to live in Greece for six months, and Sammy came with me. We got Greek boyfriends and went to discos and gave American teenagers a bad name. I started dating John, and Sammy dated my brother’s best friend. Sammy went to design school in San Francisco; I went to art school in Savannah, Georgia. With the distance, we began to drift apart and didn’t check in with each other as often.

When I finished my egg-head painting, I didn't show it to her or my other friends. I kept my new passion for art a secret. My senior project was an art show featuring seven paintings. Sammy’s senior project was creating a fashion line. I felt like Sammy was the true artist and I was the imposter. I didn't ever tell her that my painting was about the two of us.

I didn't even remember it, until now, recreating the painting 36 years later. As I paint this new piece, I think about Sammy and how difficult her life has been. She dropped out of fashion school and went back to Hawaii, to the same bars and clubs that were filled with the wrong crowd. She got addicted to heavy drugs, had a child, and lost custody. She’s been in and out of jail a couple of times over the years, struggling with guilt and trauma.

Hope in Brushstrokes

I spoke to her on the phone about a year ago, and she was witty and clever just like in high school. She made me laugh a hundred times and told me stories for over an hour. She said she wanted to get to painting more and really try to make it as an artist. I could tell something wasn't quite right, but my heart didn't want to know what. She told me that I was the closest thing she had to a sister and always loved me like family. I told her she was the sister I never had and I loved her back. We texted a few times after the phone call, but her trail has gone cold.

A few weeks ago, another friend from high school messaged me a link with Sammy’s picture. The link was from Honolulu police stating there was a warrant for her arrest.

My heart sank. Sammy has more potential than most people I know, if she could just overcome. I know that this painting is some kind of intercession for Sammy and a renewal of her soul. Like a rebirth, she could emerge from the waters, her mortal coil forever tethered to the Eternal One who would grant her destiny and a new life abundant. Her days lost in the agony of addiction, shame, and regret could end and become a life of purpose and joy.

As I finish my painting, I realize this project is much deeper than a YouTube video or a fun before-and-after comparison. This painting means so much more, and the timing of it is powerfully prophetic. With every final detail and last touches of highlights, tears of hope flood my eyes.

Never have I ever so badly wanted a painting to do all the things I say they do. For heaven and oil paint to collide into a profound display of miraculous manifestation. That fate would be disrupted by Divine destiny, a cast-down soul would be released from captivity, and light, love and liberty would prevail. Until the day of reckoning, I wait and pray and allow peace to abide in me. I anticipate the phone call from my soul sister that she is free and walking in the fullness of God.

Light, Love, and a Crown of Victory

I’m at the gallery talking with an artist who has graduated from our Mastery Program. We are looking at the painting I titled “Soul Sisters,” and I tell her how I recreated my first painting of the egg-heads. I don't tell her about Sammy and what all the painting means to me, but she asks, “How can you sell a painting that is so special and personal?”

“Soul Sisters” is about new life. A rebirth and regeneration. A revelation of belonging to what is Eternal and Divine and that nothing can separate us from that profound love. This painting is about the triumphant and glorious feat of overcoming the darkness that wants to take us down. We wear our crown of victory that proclaims our everlasting kinship to those with whom we are connected and bound and to a heavenly kingdom.

“How could I not sell it? The last thing that I want is to keep it for myself. Nothing would make me happier and feel more fulfilled than to share all that this painting means with someone who loves it and would cherish it.”

Letting the painting go means it begins its journey of fulfillment.

Let’s all think of those who are lost to addiction, shame, and regret—those who have been overtaken by their pain and have sunk to the depths of despair. Let us hold them close in our hearts, extending towards them hope and the power of love and forgiveness. Let’s pray for their return to themselves and to the one who created them, that they would find acceptance, grace, and peace. And once they have received their crown, that they would live out their destiny serving the one who saved them.

Do you have a friend who feels like family? How has your relationship developed through the years?

Share your story in the comments below!