This was my last painting of my senior year of high school.
It was based on a photo of my photography class friend. I need to get back into oil paint. I’m not allowed to have oil paints at the group home. I just know how to make it glow with that medium. My art teacher in high school could paint like the below image. His name is Michael Stanford Foster.
Visit his website: https://michaelstanfordfoster.com/home.html
My teacher knew I was bored. He was constantly trying to get me to go abstract. I insisted on working on portraits, because he knew so much about that art variety. I started a painting for an abstract landscape unit and threw it in the garbage. This is the style, which came back in late 2018 or early 2019, about 6 to 7 years after I graduated high school.
This one is for sale on the Arts for All WI website.. It’s 36″ x 24″ Oil on canvas and 150 dollars.
https://arts-for-all-wi.square.site/shop/zelda-bean/CZA4XFAFXCAOYUNXSXIWU5WI
I was so scared to go abstract back then, but I am glad I did portraits in high school.
When I was a sophomore, Mr. Foster encouraged me to start selling original printmaking portraits.
Here’s one:
I didn’t think to look into it. I, for the most part, thought that if I tried to sell my work, I’d be a starving artist. I didn’t want to fail at something so important. Who would possibly want to buy from me? The only exception to this mindset was when I was in treatment for bipolar disorder and said to the art therapist, “I’m going to hang in the Louvre someday.”
She shut it down as a manic delusion.
All I really wanted career-wise was to be a stand-up comedian. I won a gold medal at state for Forensics. My category was Solo Acting Humorous. I was the class clown, although we didn’t have that superlative in the yearbook. I didn’t know how I was going to make comedy happen. I wrote a comedy blog after high school and worked on a slightly humorous novel. It’s called Hey, Joey Journal.
I remember when everybody started finding out where they were going to college. During art class, we were all saying where we were going in the fall. One girl asked me where I was attending. I couldn’t say in a short way. I had a huge breakdown the summer before junior year, and all of my teachers were taking my recovery slowly. I even quit my college prep class called AVID. There was a scheduling conflict. Art Seminar was at the same time as AVID. The teacher for AVID moved on, and I thought I’d do the same. Plus, I wanted to finish with my friends, not an indepenedent study.
This is all of us together.
I told the girls who were wondering about where I was going. In that moment, I gave a simple answer. I was going to do AmeriCorps.
I ended up doing that a few years later, so it wasn’t a complete lie.
I ended up getting into UW-Milwaukee. I found out right at the end of the school year. I went to tell Mr. Foster so I could be eligible for a scholarship I applied for. In his office, before I could say I got in, he broke the news that they were giving it to another student who already confirmed acceptance. I had learned the word surrender. I smiled and said, “That’s okay.”
I’m glad they gave my friend the scholarship. She actually works in the graphic design field, which is hard to teach yourself. I assume. I want to talk to this friend more. I am very proud of her for workng in her field. I’m not trying to diss her by revealing this story. I just need to speak on this moment in my life. I never told Foster that I got in. It changed the trajectory of my career. Learning to surrender and to pay attention to signs was a pivotal thing.
Right after this exchange, a note came to go to the office. The moment after. When I arrived, I found out I’d be giving the class speech at graduation. I won an essay competition. After that, I committed to writing. I thought it was a sign from the universe, which it was. I told one of my other teachers that I got into UW-Milwaukee, and she tried to get me to carpool to campus with a friend. He was also staying home in Waukesha. I didn’t want to rely on him to get me there. Everything would be different had I commuted with that friend. I ended up having my mom drive me to community college at UW-Waukesha. A friend drove me home some days. I decided on Waukesha late, so there weren’t any art classes. I was so focused on writing my book, I dropped most of my classes. Still, I’m very glad for my book. Now I will never have to wonder, “Do I have a book in me?”
I got distanced from art. I was so bored. In 2014, Robin Williams death rocked the world, including my world. I didn’t want to be a comedian anymore. I changed my blog from my version of comedy to art and poetry. The art only lasted a month, but an important month. Abstract October. Now It’s abstract life. I was living with my sister in Madison. I created some of my favorite art EVER.
Like this drawing of my meal at Five Guys:
I eventually went to my parents’ house to finish my novel and work at the antique mall. My parents rented space there. I was a self-taught writer, at this point. I worked with All Writers, learning from Kathie Giorgio. Starting in 2018, I began my art Instagram. I wasn’t taking it seriously. My tag is @zelda_bearn_art … In case you’re curious.
I was hooked on my writing, but the second book didn’t happen organically. And after a while, I hated writing. The blog had ended at a natural point, and I couldn’t get my shit together on book 2. I spent 2019 writing poetry literally nonstop and can’t quite get that momentum back in modern day.
And then I got hit by a train on purpose during COVID. My brain doesn’t think the same. At least that’s what I figure because I can’t write the same. Maybe I just plain and simply hate writing books now. I’m able to write a poem or two. But novels? I have the world in my head, but no plot. I’m thinking of putting aside 30 minutes a day to write a novel. I have a lot of dreams that I’m actively writing. However, I have a lot of nightmares I attribute to the devil, not my desires. I got to see if I can write at least a novella, though.
After I got hit by the train, my psychiatrist urged me to get back into art. Best advice I have ever received. Then I got to Trempealeau, a residential mental hospital. At first, I wanted to write, but I took the advice my doctor gave me. It was one of the best years of my life. It was joyous. Trempealeau had more people in its program than other residential hospitals. I had a lot of eyes on my work. One patient looked through all of my work. He said I had talent and then revealed he was a professional artist. He wanted to collab with me. I lost his number when I left. There is a chance he had Alzheimer’s. A lot of my fellow residents did.
I was crunching the numbers, doing the math of the situation. I knew I could get paid for this. I started realizing it was totally possible. I didn’t have to be a starving artist. While at the facility, I emailed Mr. Foster for the first time in ages. I asked him if I should go back to school for art. He said no. Teach yourself.
When I was a senior in high school, the teachers sent in more art to Scholastic from any single student since the 80’s. One got honorable mention. Other than that, my whole portfolio was rejected. My ceramics teacher, Mr. Mancuso said, “Either they thought you were a professional or you got too much extra help.”
This is how I painted. I’m scared to show this, because I do not want to encourage lofty expectations for my future art.
I don’t think I was supposed to know this, what Mr. Man told me about the professional shit. I didn’t hunt down other scholarships. I’m sure I could’ve gotten one. My mental health made it bad timing.
I’m kind of getting my desire to write back. I have to be very careful how I do this, seeing as I need to prioritize art. For now, I write about my art. It fits into my schedule.
I started selling my art more in 2025. I had just transferred to a new group home. My art was in Arts for All’s annual POWER Awards competitions. The exhibitions manager brought my art to Art Fair on The Square in Madison, WI. I’ve been focused on art ever since. All I watch on TV is art-related content. I have 7 hour days often, though I’m currently experiencing some burnout. What will end this? Switching up mediums. Always works. I’m thinking oil pastel is next. I’m not living on my art yet, but that’ll change soon. When I was in treatment at Trempealeau, a woman said to me, “Keep hustling. People will notice.”
It’s the truth.