Sensing the Storm

Giving Statement

In the early 1960’s an uncle who lived several states away had an affect on my understanding of art, and the human soul. He was a talented artist but after many years of heavy drug addiction, his artwork began to exhibit a convoluted desperation that only he understood. No one wanted his paintings but when I was in middle school, because I was already showing an interest in art, I ended up with one of his paintings when he died. It was a portrait of Jesus' face, and in-spite of having never met him, his story stayed with me. Now, I see each commission as an opportunity to look into anther human's soul and create something that would be a blessing. That is why beginning with my first mural that I painted in high school in my high school library I continue to donate energy towards painting murals in schools and working with troubled/addicted -teenagers, teaching them how to “do art” instead of drugs.

Through my work I have seen lives changed and drug addicts and cutters go on to go to college, get degrees in counseling and give back to the community.

Because all things are connected down here on earth as well as in heaven I also earned my Associate Divinity Degree, as well as served as a chaplain at Duke University hospital while earning my level one Chaplaincy degree.

The home I envision is one where teenagers come on Friday and Saturday night to play music, do art, and bond with grandparents and mentors, in the day hours small children come to see puppets and storytelling, as well as offering parenting classes and outreach to the community ....has yet come to fruition.

Caymen Islands: The Storm

I created this painting from a photo I took in the Grand Cayman Islands.  It was  the year 2008 and I had just completed my Associate Divinity Degree and a season of Chaplaincy at Duke Hospital. My husband wanted to go scuba diving with my son and I felt that it would be nice to join them for a little nine day rest. I was into whittling at that time and was sitting on my porch the day before we left for the Island whittling a walking stick, the blade slipped and cut my wrist. I received nine stitches. It should have been a warning to me, an omen of sorts. A slit wrist. I still have the scar.

We arrived in Belize and took an egg beater airplane over to the Island. I was not comfortable on that small plane, it did not help that one of the fifteen passengers on the plane was a man who talked loudly and had great knowledge about the way little planes operate and the likely chance we would all die.

 The Island was beautiful and the water was clear and an exotic green. There were pineapples and coconuts all ready for picking. It was just like the brochures depicted... except when when I walked around the corner to the street  behind the resort. It was then I discovered it was more like a set from a Western Movie, not a modern set, a set made in  the 50's.  The water front hotels were painted beautifully, but behind the façade the rest of the town consisted of  things propped up and in shambles.

We stayed in one of the best resorts on the island and decided not to complain about the fact that there was no hot water ,after we mentioned it one time and realized the maid did not speak English. Then the power kept cutting off, sometimes for hours. I watched the news and discovered it was not the approaching Typhoon that caused the power to go off, it was that the Island had not paid their part of the  power bill. Belize was mad at that little island. That was okay. The Island was stunning and charming. The little village behind the resort had some nice little vendors and we were amazed to discover there were no flies. None. You could eat outside and never see one. I asked the locals  why there were no flies and they said... ( okay, this is the truth- I kid you not) ....that the flies would be in on Thursday. I pondered that greatly in my heart, and also wondered if I missed something in the translation.

My husband and son gleefully charted their scuba course and took off on the boat early the first morning while the clouds gathered over the horizon and the news reports mentioned that hurricane/tropical storm Arthur was heading for shore. We, the maids and I, listened to the wind whistle and battened down the hatches. I nodded my head at them a lot and tried to communicate "Are we going to die?" They cheerfully nodded back. Yes, Yes, we are all going to die.


 We had experienced three days with flickering lights, cold showers, winds and threats of  rain, yet the guys managed to get in two days of Scuba before the resort took on the look of Gilligan's Island. Both days I wandered the island during the day and in the afternoon I stood on this dock, the one that is depicted in this painting, and watched the ominous evening clouds roll in, wondering if the guys would make it back to land. They came back glowing with joy. Apparently you can not tell there is a hurricane when you are under water. Keep that in mind the next time you are under water, you never know what is happening in the sky.

On Thursday, the heavy rain bands came through and during a moment of eerie calm we ambled back over to the little "one street town" to get a bite to eat. The flies were everywhere. Everywhere. I was amazed that they actually did come in on Thursday, - like- "It's Thursday, time to go onto town for the Blue Plate special!" My amazement at the uniqueness of each of God's creatures, and the knowledge of the natives concerning such things was profound.  I found out later that flies come in with the first rain, not on Thursdays.

                        * I felt like the flies deserved a paragraph all of their own.




The worst of Arthur lasted 24 hours, when he had finished ripping every coconut and banana off of the trees on the Grand Cayman Islands the flickering TV news report said that tropical storm Alma  was brewing in the emerald green waters off the shores of the island. In  Southern terms she was "over yonder close by" and chasing Arthur like a hussy; since I did not  know what dysfunctional relationship they had I decided not to hang around to meet her. I was concerned that in "Act Number Three"  Arthur and Alma would spawn a little demon storm named Alvin. At that time I did not have a smart phone so we walked in the rain to a little sketchy internet cafe and looked at our emails to contact our airlines and cut the trip short. As I typed all my personal information into a twenty year old dirty computer, on a keyboard with half the letters worn off, all my usual fears of internet hacking or someone stealing my credit card numbers were miraculously non existent.  The next morning I got back on the little egg beater plane in the pelting rain with high winds and low visibility and I was not afraid. I was heading home.


I will refrain from telling you the details of our flight home. Suffice it to know it was a rough plane trip and the lady beside me had to use the little bitty barf bag. We landed in Texas to take a connecting flight home. I came really close to kissing the Texas tarmac.  That tarmac was melting hot and nasty- but really -yeah, I was ready to bow down to the earth and French kiss it, I loved that Texas Tarmac and still think fondly of it.

I got my stitches removed the following week. 

So enjoy the painting. I will not go back for more photos.

Falls Lake Dam Fisherman

Pleinair Painting of a Man Fishing

Today I went out  to enjoy the fresh air and friends. It is very hot outside right now and everyone wants to leave after a few hours except me. I could stay all day. This man was kind enough to stand relatively still for us. I think we made him kind of nervous after he figured out that we were painting him. But he was a good sport about it.

 T. Angelique offers her talents in the community. Her first mural was painted on the library wall at her high school. She has completed five very large murals within the Public School System and as well as one for a local Christian School. In 2012 she worked with several local teens to design and paint a 20' x 60' outdoor community mural. Her purpose in doing this was to teach teens to give back to society and create something beautiful for a local Drug Rehabilitation Home. She has also obtained a Chaplaincy Degree at Duke University Hospital, an Associate of Divinity degree from Southeastern Seminary and nonprofit status for Hosanna Covenant Ministries -"Art for Transforming." 

After opening her own home to three wayward teens ( who were not her own) and successfully seeing them recover from drug addiction,cutting, and self destructive attitudes her wildest dream is for her nonprofit to open an art home for troubled teens where teens can learn to play the fiddle, paint, do theater, talk and laugh. Where old ladies sit on the porch, and teach teens to sew costumes, or knit and crochet, and grandpas teach how to wood work, carve and garden. To teach troubled teens to do art, instead of drugs- and to cook quiche not meth. In the early 1960’s an uncle who lived several states away had an effect on her understanding of art, and the human soul. He was a talented artist but after many years of heavy drug addiction, his artwork began to exhibit a convoluted desperation that only he understood. When he died she was given one of his paintings, a portrait of Jesus' face, and in-spite of having never met her uncle, his story, no matter how useless to anyone else, made an impact for others.

Quick Vignette of My Mother in law

One day last year I took my camera over to my Mother In Law's home to take some photos of her. She got her hat, and a book, and placed a beautiful vase of roses on the table beside her and posed. She grows the nicest  roses  so that was a great set up. Time passes and I have been wanting to get around to doing a painting of one of her poses but have not had time. So late one night I decided to just do a little head shot study and  paint a little 11 x 14 study of  her. When I got  to this point I liked it and decided not to change a thing. I gave it to her for Mothers Day and she loved it.I think sometime soon I will try to paint the whole scene.