Today we’d like to introduce you to Sonia Geny.
Hi Sonia, thanks for sharing your story with us. To start, maybe you can tell our readers some of your backstory.
I’ve always drawn since I was a little girl, but it wasn’t until my 35th birthday that I found myself in front of a cheap canvas recycled from Goodwill and a gift bag of acrylic paints and brushes. I was lucky to be sitting up after the several years of being bedridden with chronic illness with Tick illness and Mast Cell Activation Syndrome, a journey that would continue for several more years. I began painting as a way of finding myself again in the midst of such as season. Almost 14 years ago I married a TN farmer, That way of life has taught me a lot about finding beauty in the midst of hardship. It it so close to nature, both stunning and harsh. It’s easy to forget that the long days and hard times do really sink your roots and produce something magical but real. My family history is no stranger to American hard times either – a grandpa serving in war, another one of the last to ride range as a cowboy and live in a sod hut without enough for winter, and a grandma no older than my own young daughter who picked cotton to make enough for their family to eat. I think I paint to remember the good in hard times. There’s a lot of sweat and tears and bad years and good years that go into growing a corn crop like I painted from that old 1916 photo. I don’t know if you’ve ever planted a half acre of cabbage, but it’s hard, dirty work and sometimes they don’t make it. Yet some of these memories make the fondest images with the loudest voice. Sometimes you need someone outside yourself to translate the circumstances and find those pearls. Art is a way to hope. A way to remember that beauty can come from ashes and worn homesteads. It was a way to infuse my voice back into the world – something that feels more and more a bur under the saddle if your world becomes unexpectedly, dramatically smaller. As I’ve painted, I’ve healed. I’ve connected. I’ve shared. Appalachia is no stranger to these stories and many of us have quilted our lives with threads from it. I hope if anything my art connects people back to those good times – yes, Daddy may have drunk too much and there may not have been enough money, but that good moment helping grandma can tomatoes exists too. That sunset shining over the poke weeds still exists just as much as the weeds do, My palette is where hope and dirt mix.
I’m sure it wasn’t obstacle-free, but would you say the journey has been fairly smooth so far?
Since it started as a way to move through my journey of chronic illness, no, it hasn’t been easy. At first, I fit it in and experimented when I could in between symptoms. Often I would paint in the evening when my little ones were asleep and my husband worked late on the farm. I began to really look forward to my painting sessions. I could tell my creativity was coming back. I have always been a creative person and was quite unmoored when illness stole that. So, little by little, I stole it back. I’m extremely grateful for my brother who sent me that birthday gift of paints and encouraged me to try. Nowadays, the struggle isn’t so much physical illness but simply trying to juggle being a homeschool mother and an owner of a very busy produce farm and plant nursery. I think like many moms I’ve struggled with feel guilty spending time or money on my hobby turning business, but it has blossomed with our farm and children in unexpected ways. When I take time to allow myself to be creative, the creativity and hope spill over into other areas of my life and into my family.
Thanks for sharing that. So, maybe next you can tell us a bit more about your work?
I specialize in painting moments from worn homesteads and treasures from hard work. Many times an old black and white photograph will inspire me to bring that moment to life again. I love movement and perspective and emotion in my work and work to translate that onto canvas with very Tennessee colors. The greens and blue are very distinct. One of my favorites is a 2×3 ft painting of a farmer and his wife balancing on top of a ladder to show how high their corn crop grew that year. I instantly connected to the couple. Dirty work shirts, tired but proud smiles, a little self conscious. I recognized the weeds, the treeline, the feel of the corn leaves from my own experience as a farm wife over 100 years later,. I know how much work it took. I know that there were bad years before that. And I know the joy and price when the corn did grow – a lot. I’m a rather practical person and so art has been a chance to let myself dream and bloom and let things unfold, much like you have to do with a garden. I’m not sure that I am unique but maybe that is what appeals to people. They have their own hard story and hopefully, they can recognize their own hope is worth the hard when they feel it in my work.
Where we are in life is often partly because of others. Who/what else deserves credit for how your story turned out?
I’m very thankful for my brother for sending me that paint kit and encouraging me during that dark time. My family and friends have been very supportive and encouraging as I learn how to work a paint brush. My dear friend, Jenn, has been wingman through my first art competition, helped me stage my first art show, and been my bouncing board when something doesn’t look quite right. I’m appreciative of other artists like Jed Dorsey and Jim Musil for their self paced training programs and encouragement to beginning artists. The good Lord has brought many people relief through paint and brush, and I’m thankful to be one of them. Neuroplasticity and limbic system support are dramatically impacted by creative arts and I believe helped with my physical healing as well. I learned about this through my doctor and neuroplasticity coach.
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