A Vivid Vision

Working through a trying time in life can take many forms. When this occurs to local painter Deya Thorin, the instinct is clear — to grab a brush and release that energy onto the canvas. The Sioux-Falls-based artist sees her art as an opportunity for healing, and she’s the first to encourage others to give it a try in their own lives.

What’s your visual-arts origin story?

I think I was born with a desire to paint — all my life, as a child. But I guess I my parents didn’t always have the means to buy me things like that, and I didn’t express it that much. But I started to notice, when I was in high school, all the kids from the neighborhood would ask me to do their school projects. They would pay me to do self-portraits and things like that!

My first time that I really got my first art set was from my husband in 1987. My husband was born and raised in Sioux Falls. He was a missionary for a church. He was in the Dominican Republic for three years. We met in 1981, and it was love at first sight. I started to explore in oils, and I just loved it. And then we started having children — we have six children — so I waited for many years to finally have the time to paint. As the kids were growing up and in their teenage years, Sundays were my day to paint. After dinner, when everyone had gone to their rooms, I was like — boom! I did a painting every single Sunday.

At that point, I was drawn to painting stuff from the Caribbean. I thought, “That’s where I came from, so that’s what I need to do.” And then I just started to do abstract. The first time, I was like, “I love this.” I loved the freedom of it. I was doing things that required detail, and I liked the fast-moving experience of feelings, colors in the abstract.

What do you count among your greatest artistic inspirations?

It’s just a feeling. I just need to do something. I can feel it in my hands. It’s an energy, and I have to put brush to canvas. It releases whatever I’m working through. It has been very healing to me — art. Very, very healing. It’s helped me work through sadness, depression — just the life things that happen to you that make you say, “That was unfair,” and then I get to painting and it heals me.

For example, my dad just passed away two years ago from COVID, and we didn’t get to go see him at all. He was in the Dominican Republic, I was here. And it was very sad. And then at one point, I decided, maybe I should paint my dad. And I’d never done portraits. But I decided to try it. When I paint, I don’t sketch — I just put the brush on it, and I’m very grateful to be able to do that. So I started to paint my dad, and I saw him coming out of the canvas, and I was like, “Dad! There you are!” And I cried and cried — there he was. I got my dad back, and it healed me. It’s really powerful. I didn’t think I could or would do that, because my dad loved me, but he at the same time was very hard in some areas, and one of them was art. I would show him little drawings as a little girl, and he would shrug. So as I was painting him, it was almost like I could hear his voice saying, “You are good!” And I was thankful. It was a special experience for me.

The plants are in our house — we always took pictures in front of it. Everything has a significance. The white shirt is because he was a priesthood holder in our church. He always wore a tie. And the pen, because he was a teacher. That’s my dad.

What is capturing your artistic attention lately?

Lately I’ve been in a discovery — I’ve been painting the savior. Most people paint him in his 30s, and I’ve been doing paintings of him as a teenager. I say, “Okay, what was he doing at that time of his life?” I used my younger son as a model, and that was at a museum in Omaha. And one of my paintings just went to the Senate in Washington, D.C., at the office of Sen. John Thune.

Many times I’m up at 4 a.m., and painting, because I can’t sleep. I just get up. I have something in my mind — a vision of something I want to paint — and I just get up and do it. I just saw this beautiful painting of Luke 23:43, when the savior said, “You will be with me in paradise.” The vision just came so fast, I decided to go downstairs and started painting the sky, and it was my own version of paradise.

What advice would you give a tentative artist?

I tell people who say they can’t even draw a stick, “If you draw a stick, it’s your stick!” It’s the way you do it, and that’s you. So when I come to teach young women at a little tiny class at church or whatever, I encourage them to just forget it. I’ll put something right here, now draw or paint it your way. You discover it. That’s how I did it! I’m nobody, but I’m somebody because I believe that we all can do it if we just go for it.

You are important. You matter. You don’t have to be perfect. Any artist, if you read about any artist — they struggle, and it’s not easy. I have times when I’m painting when I think I want to scrape that off — but I don’t. I go, “okay, let’s keep going and see what happens.” And then it turns into something beautiful and I’m glad I didn’t give up. So I encourage people to not compare themselves to anybody. Everybody has their own brand. Just go for it. Pursue it. There’s only one life, and life is short. Live it. And if you don’t feel comfortable sharing your art with the public, start small — show your family and friends. Or don’t show anybody — just create for yourself. It will release something. I feel like everybody just has to release that thing from inside.

Does being artistic run in your family?

My dad liked to sing — I like to sing! But nobody was painting or drawing or anything like that. Singing was more in our blood. My children are very artistic. That came out from myself and my husband — he likes to sketch and is very good at it. Our kids are extremely good. Beyond what I could do. But they don’t believe in themselves, which is shocking to me. I’m like, “You are good — you should be able to do this! I’m telling you! If I had half of what you can do…”

I think many children have the potential to be artists. But what happens to a child when they’re this big? They’re drawing in a page or on a book or on a wall, and what does mom say? “You can’t do that!” We need to have classes where moms and toddlers can take a class together, encourage them to be artistic and go with the flow, versus not letting them go outside of the lines.

I have one grandchild that is a little hyper, and I let him draw when he’s here. Man, he knows so much. He feels so important. He’ll say, “I feel like Picasso or Rembrandt.” He feels like he’s good, and I just tell him, “You are.”

What do you hope people get from your work?

I hope they experience joy. Or question themselves. “I don’t know what I’m seeing!” Questioned about the painting I usually respond with asking them to arrive at their own feeling. I don’t want to taint their view. If they really want to know what inspired it, I can tell them. But otherwise, it’s all about you — what do you see? “I see a person laughing…” Good! Perfect!

What role does color play in your work?

It’s very important. I grew up in the Dominican Republic in the Caribbean, and I was just exposed to so much. The culture is vibrant. The sea, everything — I think I’m just born with the desire. I feel like the colors represent feelings to me. If you see a lot of my paintings have a lot of red, there’s a lot of emotion. There’s something I’m really working through. And when I’m peaceful, it’s greens, blues. It’s a feeling in the moment. My husband says, “I just can’t believe it, how you put the colors together,” because I never went to school for art. I just started and I just feel it — I just grab that tube and I just go for it.