Art as the Healer
Today isn’t a day for an upbeat article about Art. Instead, I want to share how Art has been my constant companion—my healer and provider—through life’s most challenging moments. This is the story of how Art carried me when I needed it most, becoming the one thing I could always rely on.
“Blue Night” Oil, silver and tar on paper by Don Ripper Private Collection
It began in childhood when someone first told me I was “good at art.” By fifth grade, I discovered that I could skip class with permission if I was creating public service posters for the school hallway. Messages like “Cover Your Cough” and “Wash Your Hands” became my ticket out of class. By seventh grade at Lake Braddock Secondary, a huge school that felt overwhelming, I found a niche painting album covers on jean jackets for classmates. I quickly had a nine-month backlog, with my work parading around the local mall on the backs of Springfield’s cool kids.
“Dio” Acrylic on denim by Don Ripper 1983 (8th grade); Photo credit: Daniel Hartung-Schuster
Lake Braddock was a very large school and in the Art department I found the place where I fit. I could hide, create, make pizza money, get a girlfriend you name it. My senior year, the school gave me a supply room to use as my studio—a huge honor. My art teachers, Joni Dim, Joan Morgan, and Dave Evilyn, believed in me when I needed it most by standing up for me at parent-teacher conferences. When my English teacher said, “Don is so bright; one day he’ll find his way,” my art teachers would reply, “He has found his way! Now we just need to get him to graduation and off to the Corcoran School of Art.” My thesis show at the Corcoran did so well that it allowed me to move out of my parents' house. Later, when I needed more income to support a family, I took up portrait painting, and somehow, Art always provided.
“Evelyn” oil on linen by Don Ripper Private collection
One of the hardest things for a young artist is finding your own voice. I wanted drama in my work—and life, as it happened, provided plenty. Going through a divorce was that pivotal moment, opening a well of raw emotion. During this time, I painted a series of self-portraits from a mirror, capturing a pain that pushed me deeper into myself than I’d ever been. Looking at these portraits now, I see that I trapped that pain within the paint, sealing it there. Now, I look back at them from a safe distance; they remind me of the struggles I survived and the hard decisions that shaped me.
There was a moment I feared that Maria Elizabeth and I wouldn’t make it as a couple. I wandered the streets of Del Ray, longing for a connection I felt slipping away. With those thoughts weighing on me, I would paint in my studio, drinking at the Evening Star back bar until I eventually fell asleep on the studio floor. Over time, a painting emerged—a dark, powerful piece that captured the depth of my feelings. That painting came with me to Maine that fall, where I showed it to Artemis Gallery, hoping for representation. The gallery owner felt the weight of it, and it spoke to her as it had to me. This became the beginning of my relationship with Artemis Gallery.
Art has the power to guide you through life’s toughest challenges, but only if you’re open to embracing it—welcoming each experience and phase as it unfolds. True growth comes not from shying away from reality, no matter how tempting that may be, but from expressing yourself honestly. Through this, you can discover a deeper understanding of where you are and the journey that brought you here.
