Abstract Painter Amy Hunter Drago
MY NAME IS AMY DRAGO, AND I AM AN ABSTRACT PAINTER, A POET, AND A JEWELRY DESIGNER.
I had the fortune of growing up in an incredibly creative household where my imagination was consistently fostered from an early age. My parents themselves are indomitable artists; my mother decorates cakes and nurtures blossoming gardens while my father is a painter, a woodworker, a writer, and a musician. As a young girl, I played the piano, wrote poetry in my journals, and drew. I had the impression, however, that my siblings were more talented visual artists than I was, so I decided to concentrate my efforts on creative writing. I was still always creating in some way.
I was homeschooled from seventh to tenth grade. Back in high school, my creativity, piano, and time spent in nature helped me succeed as a student and guided my healing from an eating disorder.
In my early twenties, I took a spiritual class about Greek goddesses and their intersection with the architecture of an artist. It was during a self-portraiture assignment that I picked up a paintbrush, and have not put it down since. However, between working many shifts at a coffee house, there was not much time left to spare for painting. Art was always with me—and always who I was—but it was hard to think about during a nine-to-five job. So, I did what I could. I hung some of my art at the coffee house. Then, one day, a customer asked if she could purchase my painting of a dreamcatcher. Surprised, I simply gifted it to her, almost embarrassed at the prospect of being paid for my artwork. But, deep down inside of me, I was moved. I craved that kind of connection with viewers—it was what I wanted to create, but I had never thought it was actually possible.
I then moved from Connecticut to the coffee house’s second location in Rhode Island. I adopted a wonderful, loving little dog who had been abandoned by her owner before finding me. I named her Brigid, like the Irish Goddess of Poetry. After leaving the coffee shop, I took college classes and began working as a direct support professional with people who had developmental disabilities. I drew satisfaction from helping others in this way for six years. I grew increasingly involved in natural healing, the mind-body-spirit mentality, and alternative healing methods. This ultimately led me to discover reiki healing, an alternative form of medicine that heals through the transfer of what is called “universal energy.” For a time, I even taught it myself.
Though I drew satisfaction from my work and its proximity to my spirituality, something was missing. I began to suffer from several health issues. My body was telling me that something had to change; everything I had learned about healing came together in the realization that my true gift of healing was, above all else, my art. So, I quit my job and told myself, “I can do this. I can paint.” I had to.
And I did exactly that. I traveled throughout the United States to catch inspiring glimpses of oceans and deserts. I spent my thirtieth birthday at the top of a mountain in New Mexico. I eventually settled in Sedona, Arizona, where my husband and I—and Brigid, of course—spent over four years in an RV to facilitate our itinerant lives as I participated in galleries and art shows. This was the turning point of my art career; since then, I have built an online following and a significant body of work. This lifestyle, however, is not without its disadvantages. Without a studio space, I have been forced to learn how to express my inspirations of the vast limits of painting within the small corners of my living spaces. Without a reliable, “traditional” career, I have faced countless uncertainties. And yet, through my own hard work and with the support of my friends, family, and Brigid, I persevere.
Now back in Connecticut, I continue painting the abstract and feminine elements of nature in acrylic and watercolor while simultaneously working on nature photography and jewelry. I am also a passionate gardener. I have always loved being in nature because it is one of the few places where I am somehow the most wholly myself and the most distant from being earth-bound at the same time. The style I choose to depict this feeling is impressionistic; impressionism and abstraction, like looking through the interpreted reality of an artist’s whim and intention, provide an undeniable connection to the spiritual world. I use similar colors and styles within the smaller canvas of jewelry—even on the gift boxes I package the jewelry in—as I attempt to pack as much beauty as I can into my creations.
The most primal motivation behind my paintbrush is the feeling that I simply cannot not paint. It is a feeling I cannot ignore. Therefore, I consider it appropriate to work primarily off of inspiration, though my process is also very intuitive. I must feel it to see it, and I must see it before I can create it. I started painting in the midst of a chaotic life in pursuit of my spirit and God. Art is an undeniable healing process that often manifests an unpredictable voice of its own, and I truly consider myself its translator in the eyes of viewers. It is my duty to listen, understand, and express the peace and tranquility needed at any given moment in life, and to gently urge viewers to reflect inward. I hope I can do the same for you.
In healing and love,
Amy