Let Your Glory Fall by Geordanna Cordero

Endometrisois by Geordanna Cordero

One of the many newborn baby squirrels I have helped rehabilitate.

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geordanna the artist, Dallas Artist


I am a first-generation Costa Rican-American artist with chromesthesia. In my paintings, I attempt to reveal faith, spirituality, and healing with and through creativity, art, and design


My work may appear random at first, but looking closer I hope you will find a common thread of exemplifying the beautifully chaotic. All my work encompasses equal parts of planning and spontaneity; a mix of direct and indirect intention, chance, and circumstances. I believe this allows me to constantly be exploring new and different avenues for my work. I believe an artist should not limit themselves by technique or medium. This allows the opportunity for my art, the basic essence of my art, to shine through rather than merely my own need to control. I attempt to manifest through conscious and subconscious color choice and stroke, that which is not seen with the naked eye: emotions, imaginations, faith, love, the soul...


I believe the "white space," the negative space in my painting is the most beautiful and raw.

My ultimate goal is to create an interesting work of art that engages people to debate their interpretations of their faith, spirituality, through creating meaningful dialogue, whether they become a fan or a critic. The worst thing for me as an artist is for someone to be indifferent, or unmoved by my work. Even if you hate it, that still means I struck a chord in you enough to make you feel and that is all I am trying to do... make you feel.


​​​It was a beautiful summer day. The temperature was neither too hot nor too cold, a perfect warmth that felt like you were being wrapped in your mother’s arms. I had just been playing outside with my neighbor LeeAnn, who also was my best friend. Lee and I have actually remained best friends for over 23 years. She is my soul sister whom consequentially also happens to be an artist. But I digress, back to that summer night. We were running around collecting lady bugs to draw and I can still feel the cool grass blades giving our calloused feet some much needed rest from the hot, rough concrete. I can still taste and smell the lemonade we had been drinking. That’s the day, the day I was first introduced to that new color.
My mom called us in and told us she had a surprise for us. Because we had behaved especially well when we had accompanied her on some errands earlier that day, she had bought us a special gift. Knowing our obvious innate love of drawing and coloring, my awesome mother had bought us a new box of Crayola Crayons, the 64 count box! Both Lee and I came from meager homes so very rarely were we afforded new things, especially such ostentatious things like a box of 62 Crayola Crayons! The only time I remember using Crayola Crayons was during school and even thAn it was never the 64 count.  I can still smell the fresh cardboard and pigmented wax wafting up from the box that my small hands could barely grab on to. Lee and I thanked my mother over and over with hugs and kisses and very carefully walked our treasure over to our “studio” which was just a section of our garage where my parents had set up a small table, a makeshift easel and a bookshelf full of our paints, markers colored pencils and such. We treated those crayons like they held the cure to cancer. To break a crayon carried with it a severe punishment of no longer being able to use them that day. Eventually they were all broken and our only commandment was quickly forgotten about. But on that first, after a few hours of coloring, something magical happened. I hadn’t noticed the color until much later in the day.
It was between two other blue colors taking away from its vibrancy. I had unknowingly picked it up and started to color with it when it happened. I was staring at the most beautiful and unique color I had ever seen. The feeling I got when I looked at it, when I still look at it, were sheer of joy and happiness. Without sounding too dramatic, I do believe that day was the first day I really opened my eyes. Something about that bright blue-tinged color that I had never seen before, shocked my system awake and sparked my imagination. I found that new vibrant and intoxicating color mesmerizing. From then on, I would use it even where it traditionally didn’t fit in. I didn’t care. This color was me. Definitely who I would have been, had God made me a crayon, no doubt. My infatuation with color and specifically that color started at that very moment, the moment I first laid eyes on Cerulean.
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