I am thrilled to announce that my artwork, "Sun-Kissed Morning" has been selected by the jury for the International Guild of Realism's Fall Salon International Online Exhibition. It is a great honor to be included among such talented artists from around the world. I would like to express my sincerest gratitude to the jury for this incredible opportunity. I would also like to congratulate all the other finalists on their outstanding achievements.
Magazine Feature
"Handmade Sellers" Magazine
I had to honor to be featured in the "Handmade Sellers" Magazine. WoooHooo!
Forgot to mention this to anyone (it's a winter issue from back in January- #77).
You can subscribe for free: https://handmadeseller.com/subscribe/
Thank you for taking the time to look over this article. If you’d like to learn more about my story go to: https://www.camillebarnesstudio.com/studio-blog/camilles-story
Conquering Fear for Personal Growth
Fear of trying new things or taking the first step can be a significant roadblock to personal growth. In this blog post, we will explore how the fear of the unknown can hinder our progress and discuss the importance of overcoming it to unlock our full potential.
1. Stepping Out of the Comfort Zone: Growth occurs outside our comfort zone. When we let fear hold us back from trying new things, we miss out on valuable opportunities for learning, development, and self-discovery.
2. Embracing Vulnerability: Taking the first step requires vulnerability as it involves putting ourselves out there, potentially facing failure or judgment. However, it is through vulnerability that we learn, grow, and build resilience.
3. Expanding Horizons: Trying new things broadens our horizons and opens doors to new experiences, perspectives, and skills. By overcoming fear and embracing the unknown, we expand our knowledge, capabilities, and personal growth.
4. Building Confidence: Each step we take outside our comfort zone strengthens our confidence. Over time, we realize that we are capable of more than we initially believed, empowering us to take on bigger challenges and achieve greater heights.
5. Cultivating Adaptability: Embracing new experiences and challenges fosters adaptability, a valuable trait in today's ever-changing world. By being open to trying new things, we develop the ability to adapt, adjust, and thrive in different situations.
Conquering the fear of trying new things or taking the first step is essential for personal growth. By stepping out of our comfort zones, embracing vulnerability, and expanding our horizons, we unlock our true potential and embark on a journey of continuous learning, growth, and self-discovery. So, let go of fear, embrace the unknown, and watch your life transform as you embrace new opportunities and reach new heights.
As an artist, I've had to face my fair share of fears on this creative journey. Those nagging doubts of not being good enough have actually become a driving force for me. Instead of letting them hold me back, I've used them as a powerful tool to push myself even harder and grow my skills.
And you know what? I've also grappled with that fear of not measuring up to others' talents. But I've learned that comparing myself to others isn't the path I want to take. Instead, I've decided to set my own unique goals for self-achievement. It's all about my personal growth and progress, not trying to match up with someone else's path.
At the end of the day, these fears have taught me valuable lessons and have helped shape me into the artist I am today. Embracing challenges and using them to my advantage has been a real game-changer. And I'm excited to see where this journey will take me next! Keep on keeping on the track that you are on and conquering those fears too! 😊
Unforgettable Studio Shenanigans
I had probably one of the most unique studio experiences ever. It’s just a typical day in the studio, paperwork scattered across my desk. My sweet little grand-darling who was only about 6 months old at the time, was spending the afternoon with me. I had her on my hip while walking into my studio area to get some paperwork. Little did I know that this innocent visit would turn into one of the most amusing and heartwarming experiences in my art career.
As I sorted through the paperwork, my grand-darling began babbling away, completely captivated by something in the room. I turned to see her smiling and cooing at none other than CMS Sapp's portrait. I couldn't help but chuckle at the unexpected interaction. It was as if she was having the most animated conversation with the stoic figure on the canvas.
I couldn't resist mentioning this adorable encounter to CMS Sapp himself. His reply was , "Well, babies have always liked me."
A Touch of Magic: In that whimsical moment, I realized that art has the power to transcend boundaries. It can captivate the imaginations of the youngest souls and create a world where anything is possible. Who's to say that CMS Sapp's portrait didn't have a secret charm that caught the attention of my grand-darling? Perhaps she sensed his bravery and esteemed presence, even at such a tender age.
That day, my studio transformed into a realm of innocence, laughter, and unexpected connections. It reminded me of the joys that art brings, not only to the artist but to all those who encounter it. In the future, I will always remember the sight of my grand-darling smiling and babbling away, entranced by a portrait that seemed to possess a baby-friendly aura.
It’s become a studio memory I will always cherish. It’s a reminder of the magic that art can create. It's these delightful and humorous moments that make our artistic journeys all the more meaningful. So, here's to the joyous wonders that unfold when little ones and portraits have a lively chat—truly a tale for the ages.
A Privileged Journey: Painting for the Louisiana Department of Military
As an artist, there are certain opportunities that come along, that I cherish. One such opportunity presented itself to me when I was given the chance to paint a portrait of CMS Dennis Sapp for the Louisiana National Guard’s Hall of Fame. I consider it a humbling honor to capture the essence of any individual deserving of such a recognition.
From the moment I received the invitation to create this portrait, I knew I was embarking on a special endeavor. The Louisiana Department of Military's Hall of Fame is a place where the bravery, dedication, and achievements of remarkable individuals are commemorated. To be entrusted with the responsibility of immortalizing one such individual through art is a tremendous privilege.
Throughout the entire process, from initial discussions to the final brushstroke, I relished every moment. This opportunity allowed me to dive deep into the subject's story, gathering insights and understanding their unique essence, his character, his service to our country. My hope was to capture the spirit and nature of the person being honored.
As an artist, my goal is to always create a portrait that goes beyond mere technical replication. I’d like portray the character of each individual in a unique way. Every brushstroke was executed with utmost care. It was an endeavor that demanded attention to detail, thoughts were given to how bold a color’s hue and chroma should be, what areas should receive more dominance and what places should not.
As the portrait took shape, I couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of pride in contributing to the well-deserved recognition of CMS Sapp. The Hall of Fame serves as a testament to the dedication and sacrifice of extraordinary individuals who have made a lasting impact on the military community. It is an honor to be part of this legacy, using my artistic skills to ensure that their stories are celebrated for generations to come.
As an artist, I am grateful for the trust bestowed upon me and for the chance to play a small role in preserving the stories of those who have dedicated their lives to the service of others.
To learn more about CMS Dennis Sapp
click here: CMS SAPP
The Beauty of the Human Face: A Captivating Tapestry of Expression
The human face is a remarkable canvas that showcases the intricacies of emotion, identity, and individuality. Its beauty lies not only in its physical features but also in the wealth of expression it can convey. From the sparkling eyes that shimmer with joy to the gentle curve of a smile that radiates warmth, the human face is a tapestry of emotions and stories waiting to be explored.
Each face carries a unique story, reflecting a person's journey, experiences, and personality. It is a window into their soul, revealing their hopes, dreams, and vulnerabilities. The face holds the power to captivate us, drawing us in with its raw authenticity and connecting us on a deeply human level.
The beauty of the human face lies not in its adherence to conventional standards but in its diversity. Every face, regardless of age, gender, or cultural background, possesses its own allure and charm. It is through this diversity that we celebrate the richness of human existence.
Faces are also symbolic of our interconnectedness as a species. They are a universal language, transcending barriers and fostering empathy and understanding. In their subtleties and nuances, faces create a tapestry of emotions that bind us together in our shared human experience.
As we navigate life, we should embrace the beauty of the human face. Let us appreciate the lines etched by laughter, the wisdom carved by time, and the uniqueness that sets each face apart. By cherishing the beauty of the human face, we honor the stories it tells and the connections it fosters, ultimately celebrating the incredible diversity and wonder of humanity.
Memorial Portrait
16 x 20 Oil on Canvas Portrait
I'm thrilled to have completed this portrait commission, especially because it was created in memory of a dearly loved family member. It's always an honor to be chosen to create such a special gift for someone. Sometimes painting someone's portrait goes beyond just seeing the face, it's about capturing the essence of that person. In this case, the subject loved fun, bling, and brilliant colors. So the client and I decided early on to add the gold and make the flowers a bit fun and quirky, to kind-of go along with this sweet lady's style.
To H*LL and back
March 4, 2022, was the day that gave me nightmares for weeks. Workers were at our house rebuilding from the storm damage we had because of hurricane Ida. A category 4 is something I had never gone through before. Our little community is on the north shore of New Orleans, far inland from the coast. This is an area that typically is never hit by a category 4, by the time a hurricane hits the coastal land the storms have considerably slowed down by the time it comes this far inland. Not this time. We had two very large trees slam into the side of the house, causing major structural damages. The effects could be noticed throughout the home with large cracks in the sheetrock. When the workers removed this exterior wall (pictured below) the studs were bent and twisted.
Ida Damage
The workers left for a break time & I was busily refinishing our front door, excited that all of the work was finally making progress. We had lived with the damages from the hurricane for months now and to see everyone coming together to do the repairs was a really good feeling. I decided to take a break for a few minutes and sat down on the sofa with a fresh glass of iced tea, a was watching the fire in the fire place. Then, All of a sudden, I heard tiny popping noises above my head in the attic. My heart started racing thinking, this is weird. Suddenly, the air conditioner turned on, and black smoke began to pour from the vents! I yelled out to my husband “SMOKE”!!! Within 90 seconds out whole living area was filled with black smoke. I ran outdoors to call 911. It seemed like 10 minutes before they arrived, but it was probably less than that.
The firemen were awesome. They did all that they could do to protect our belongings. They even took my kids photos off of the refrigerator and placed them in the garage. The entire attic had to be sprayed with water and most of the ceiling removed. The chimney had caused the attic to catch fire and we were totally unaware of what was happening until the air conditioner clicked on. I am thankful that it was set to turn on, because usually in early March it’s still set to heater mode. I am thankful we were awake, many times we build our fires at night before bed time, we close the screen then go off to sleep.
The fire inspector determined that the fire was cause because of a “builder’s error”. He said that the wood should have NEVER been placed around a chimney the way this one was & that it was miraculous that we and our children were not caught in a house fire years earlier.
Our home has been gutted and currently we are waiting on the rebuild to begin. It has not been easy to find someone that is equipped to do this much restoration.
Art Studio
Some of my paintings were totally destroyed and many prints & supplies. I was fortunate to save the portrait commission I was working on at the time. I look forward to the day when the studio is all restored.
Camille's Story
It is true that God works in mysterious ways, and his ways have been a mystery to me. I oftentimes felt like a detective trying to unlock some of the mysteries surrounding my life.
I was given up for adoption at birth. In fact, my adoptive parents graciously babysat my two older brothers at the time of my birth. As I grew into childhood, I was told many stories of my two older brothers, Forrest and Keith. Forrest was the quiet one, and Keith was the one with a bubbly personality. I was told how precious they were and I began to love them. Pictures of them were being saved for me, but tragically, they were lost during Hurricane Betsy in 1965 when our home flooded. I never saw these pictures, which I would have treasured.
I was also told about my birth mother, a single mom, a hippie, who was quite petite and soft-spoken. She eventually moved to California, I was to learn later on not only did I have big brothers, but also a little brother and a little sister. Wow! During my early life, my thoughts drifted away many times as I wondered about this long-lost family. Where were they? Did I resemble them in any way? My teachers labeled me as a "daydreamer" at school. I spent a lot of time thinking about art stuff and envisioning my long-lost family.
As the years passed, subsequently my adoptive parents were blessed with four children. As a child, I would escape to my room to find quiet time to draw and paint, my most favorite pass time, my hobby.
I grew into adulthood and I married an incredible man. We were blessed with a precious son and two beautiful little girls. Yet, I felt there was a void and emptiness in my life. The stories of my lost family helped some, but they were only bits and pieces of a puzzle (the puzzle of my life), which had so many missing pieces. I had been given facts and information but because there was no memory of this past, I had empty spaces in my heart - empty, empty places crying out to be filled. I felt as though I was expected to regard my birth family as dead, non-existent - if not literally, then symbolically.
In the summer of 1990, my adoptive mom gave me enough information for me to begin my search - my search for that lost part of myself. She told me that my birth mom had wanted to meet me for many years. She would come to New Orleans occasionally and contact the family about meeting me. I was so excited to know that she wanted to know me. Without the advent of internet and the amazing technology we now have today, my search was difficult. I spent many months making phone calls and searching records.
On January 22, 1991, I went to the genealogy department of the downtown Library in Dallas, Texas. I spoke with the librarian about my search, but was told they were quite limited with recent information. Further, census information is not made public for seventy years, which meant census information taken during my lifetime could aid my search was not available to me. My heart sank within me.
“But I do have a few states on file with some current stuff,” the librarian told me, hoping to lift my spirits. The librarian left to go look up the files in another room. My heart raced with excitement, after all these years I am now closer than ever to finding my birth mom.
A short while later, the librarian somewhat reluctantly walked over to me and handed me a paper. To my absolute shock, it was something that I had never expected, nor was I prepared for. I read the words “DEATH CERTIFICATE”. It was my mother’s death certificate. Emotion overwhelmed me, this successful search gave me joy, but the finality of the word “death” washed over me like a tidal wave, I was overcome with grief and tears raced down my face.
When I regained my composure, I examined the document. Alameda County was mentioned. That evening I was able to get a telephone listing in the county stated on the certificate, for a “C. Holter”
If I contacted any of my siblings would they even want to know me? Would I be rejected? Would I be accused of trying to ruin their lives by wanting to meet them, know them? What if the wonderful people I envisioned turned out to be mean and hateful? I knew that my birth mother had wanted to meet me, but I just didn’t know if anyone else would. The questions running through my mind seemed to be endless.
I nervously dialed the number.
“Hello?”
“Hello, my name is Camille, and I live in Dallas, Texas. I’m doing some genealogy research; please tell me if you know any of these people - Forrest, Keith, Christopher, Jessica, or Miriam...”
The voice on the other end responded, “Yes, I am Chris.”
“Well, do you know any of the people I just mentioned?” My heart was pounding as I asked.
Then Chris replied, “Yes, that’s my family.”
I became choked up as I said, “I’m Camille, your sister.”
He replied, “Cool! How ya’ been doing?”
We began to talk and to share our lives. We poured out our hearts to each other for almost three hours, as if we could recapture the lost thirty years. “We were told of a sister, Camille, who lived in New Orleans. We thought it was hopeless to find you” Chris shared.
Over the next two months, I had many heartwarming conversations with my newfound siblings. My sister Jessica, a journalist, was able to have a copy of a photograph of our mother made at the newspaper where she worked. She sent it to me. After opening the envelope and seeing it, all I could do was to stand there in amazement. My hands shaking, I took the picture and peered deeply into the black and white photograph. This is her! This is what she looked like. I wish it could have been a video! I wanted to hear her voice, hear her laugh, see her smile. What were her mannerisms? What kind of things would she talk about?
One day, Dave told me, “It’s time to meet your family face to face. I’ll buy you a plane ticket and baby Rachael can go with you; I will take care of Ben and Bethany for you to go.”
My heartbeat with joyous anticipation as March 7, 1991, the long-awaited day finally arrived. The drive to the DFW airport was a long one for me.
My mind meandered back over the last thirty years, as I remembered the compelling desires that brought me to this day and the stories that were told to me...
It all began at The Seven Sea’s bar, the pleasant stranger said to the man on the barstool, “Hi, how are you?”
"Fine, thank you, and you?"
“Oh, I’ve been better,” quipped the stranger “my name is Paul Schroder. Good to meet you. I was just thinking about my girlfriend Miriam. She’s pregnant, and needs to find a home for the baby.”
“Really?! My wife has had three miscarriages, and we desperately want a child. Let’s talk!”
Their meeting resulted in my being legally adopted at birth, just a couple of months later.
In the ’60s, the morning talk shows were filled with psychology. Guests warned parents about nutrition and fast foods, about the ill-effects of spanking children, and about the negative results of not telling children when they are adopted.
Before I even understood what the word “adopted” meant, I was told I was adopted. All my life relatives referred to me as “adopted.” I always felt loved, wanted, and chosen, but I also felt “adopted,” which made me different from my siblings. A natural curiosity ensued which developed into a burning need, a compelling and necessary need to know.
During the flight to Oakland, California, my emotions intensified. What would my brothers be like? I wish my sister could be there too. Would they welcome me? Would they like me? The resolution of all of my life’s questions had been answered for me in only two short months. I felt a miracle was in the works which would transform my life. I was so excited and so very nervous.
As I exited the airplane off-ramp, there they were - Forrest and Keith, my “big” brothers, with their wives. “Oh God, I hope they like me” I whispered to myself as I descended the escalator, seeing them below waiting for me. I was to meet Chris later that day. When we were all together there was an instant bonding. My brothers were some of the most wonderful people I had ever met. My dry wit that had been so out of place at home was something we all had in common. THEY WERE LIKE ME! I WAS LIKE THEM! The house rocked with laughter that week-end. I wanted to savor every last minute with them.
There was one thing that really made me feel uncomfortable. Many times during quiet moments, I would notice they would all be intensely staring at me. I did not expect this, nor understand it and did not know how to react. Forrest recognized my discomfort.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Camille,” he said. We seem to be staring. It’s just that you are so like her - like our mom. He continued, “I wish you could have known her. She was a wonderful person.”
“And so talented,” added Keith. “She not only was an artist, she also played the piano and sang.” I proudly announced, “So do I!”
I learned many things about my mother that weekend. Her own mother died when she was young, and my mother had to be a mother and maid to her many brothers and her not-so-kind father. At the first opportunity, she eloped with a young soldier simply to get away from home. He was the father of Forrest and Keith and may have also been my father. Only a DNA test could reveal this mystery, but it was too costly for us. We’ll never really know for sure, but it doesn’t matter. This man was listed as “missing” by the military and my mother took up with someone else.
The one thing that I could not explain to my newfound family that first weekend we shared was why I was so grief-stricken over the death of a person I had never known. I found out that weekend from her dear friend Rosalind, my mother had mailed packages and written poetry for me. I never received these things from her. I wanted so badly to meet her, to let her know that I loved her and that it was okay that she had to give me away. That weekend, I was trying to deal with the reality of my mother’s death. I understood why no one ever found me. This understanding gave me peace.
All too soon, it was time to say good-bye.
We had a long tender group hug before I left for the plane terminal. The embrace was tender; it felt good. I felt complete, whole.
The first time we met.
My adoptive parents felt it in “our” best interest that this woman did not have any rights to me whatsoever. After all, she had willingly given up all of her rights.
My parents were afraid of any painful repercussions that might result which is understandable. I cannot be bitter in any way because I do not know what I would have done had the roles been reversed. In today’s news, there are horror stories of natural parents ripping babies from the loving arms of adoptive parents. Emotions of all parties involved in an adoption run very deep, are complicated and seem to grow in complexity as the years’ pass.
The plane left with its pensive passenger reflecting on the last four miraculous days. The kind lady sitting next to me spoke to engage me in conversation. I began to share my story with her. We talked for a long time, even though our landing and take-off in San Diego. We were interrupted by an announcement by one of the flight attendants.
“As we announced earlier,” she began, “I have a round trip ticket to give away in appreciation for your re-boarding so quickly in San Diego. We are now back on schedule. We don’t usually do this, so I’m not sure how exactly to go about this.. .If someone would come up here and sing a song, this ticket is yours.”
From a front-row seat of the plane, a man jumped up and grabbed the microphone before anyone else had a chance to respond. He crudely burst into a chorus of “Happy Birthday to you...” rather off-key. The passengers looked around at each other questionably as if to say, “Certainly this guy isn’t going to get that ticket!” The flight attendant reluctantly handed him the ticket and sat down.
I said to my new friend, “I wish I would have done that so that I could have had the chance to see my family again. I don’t know when we’ll afford another ticket!” Then I noticed the restroom was free and excused myself.
As I returned to my seat, the man who had won the ticket stood up and handed it to me.
“Happy Birthday!” he smiled.
The flight attendant announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, this young lady has just met her birth family for the first time this past weekend. This fine man has just given her the round trip ticket so that she can see them again.”
I stood in total amazement as everyone on board clapped and cheered. The dear lady sitting next to me told them my story when I was in the ladies’ room.
The very next week WAS my birthday. I know this was a part of God’s plan in answer to my life-long prayer.
We arrived in Dallas on schedule. Dave and the children seemed so happy to have “Mommy” home again. I could not stop talking about my visit to Oakland. In fact, I told anyone who would listen about my joyous experience.
A few days later, there was a knock on our door. A neighbor handed me a plane ticket to Oakland, California! She said, “Camille, I booked this flight way in advance, but can’t use the ticket because I’ll be in the middle of final exams. It was a deal where I couldn’t get my money back, so I hope you can use it. Oh, it is scheduled for a baby too!”
“Of course, I’m thrilled, but Dave will never let me go to Oakland in May. I just got back from there. It’s too soon!” I said, and she noticed the disappointment in my voice.
“Well, just keep it and use it if you can,” my friend responded, “and if you can’t, give it to someone who can. I’m off, now.” And, she was gone in a flash.
Between March and May there were three times that I could have given away the ticket to Oakland, but each time something inside stopped me. I didn’t know why, but I held on to the ticket even though I felt rather guilty about it.
Late one evening, my brother Keith called me with tragic news; his baby girl had been stillborn. The funeral was to be on May 16. I looked at the ticket my friend gave to me to Oakland, the date was for May 15.
Standing at my niece’s graveside, Keith turned to me and said “We could never understand how you could grieve so over someone you never knew. Now, we all understand. You know, Keri is in Heaven right now, and Mama is rocking her.” Keith then hugged me like a big brother does so well.
To this day, I believe that Keri was a part of God’s perfect plan. No one can really understand her death. Perhaps His purpose was to enable all of us to understand ourselves and the depth of our emotions and ties. We lost precious Keri, but somehow her death seemed to strengthen our family bond. She rests in a beautiful place. I look forward to the day we can meet her.
God has blessed my life so much. He helped me search for and find the answers I searched for in my life. He directed me each step of the way to find my missing family and restore to me so much that it's hard to put it into words.
I was never able to see my birth Mom or any of the art she created. I'm sure it must have been beautiful. She raised such wonderful children and had to have been an awesome person. My heart's desire is to use the talents, (that I inherited) to bless others and touch the hearts of those caught up in the routine of today's complex busy lifestyles.
Today Camille continues to keep in touch with her family in California. She currently lives in Louisiana and continues doing artwork, illustrating books, and paints.