Weston Ayers

I think the responsibility of the artist is to give dignity to human emotion. The canvas remembers the pain of wounds long after they've healed and scarred over. I've been doing this for fifteen years. I approach a canvas like a therapy session - a place to tell secrets and navigate broken things. Trauma, grief, and other obscure sorrows can have a place to reside, and I get to move forward and onward. I've learned to navigate and interpret life with metaphor and surrealism. Every piece of my work is a page in my life story, like a map to a sacred trail in the wilderness, it's just one place, not the whole world or entirety of who I am.  Over the years, I've grown a love for writing, photography, and adventure as other avenues to keep my heart alive.

Life evolves and my creative inclinations change and form along the currents. My once desperate need for surrealistic escapes is now balanced by the magnificence I find around me. Catching a sunset with my husky, Levi, sitting at a crackling fire, and falling asleep to the tune of mountain sounds can heal my spirit in a way that painting and drawing never can.

In 2016, everything I loved was stolen and my life was derailed when I contracted Lyme disease. I couldn't make art, hike, or walk Levi down the block. I quit my job, lost some friends, and found solace in escapism and addictions. Who wouldn't? It's been a long spiral upward and tens of thousands spent on treatment, therapies, and lifestyle changes.

I've got a sense of my life back now, enough to dream again. With some achy joints, fatigue, memory loss, and brain fog still holding on some days, I'm pouring the life I've got into my artwork and it continues to make me better. I'm better today than a year ago. Art makes us better.

By purchasing my work, I am able to continue my healing journey here in Flagstaff, Arizona. With the most heartfelt gratitude I can give, thank you for supporting a living artist. And his dog.

Weston’s Website