Hi, I’m Cheri

My journey to becoming the artist I am today has been one of profound transformation, a path illuminated by unexpected turns and the eventual embrace of a world perceived through senses beyond sight. Before the gradual onset of vision loss following my service in the Air Force, my world was predominantly visual, a mode of perception I relied upon for safety and understanding. The transition was a challenging emotional landscape, marked by denial, anger, grief, and the resurfacing of past trauma. Losing my ability to navigate visually, to read faces and body language, felt like losing vital survival skills, leading to moments of crippling anxiety and frustration. Accepting my blindness became the first, and perhaps the most significant, step forward.

Cheri Owen smiling while shaping clay bowls on a pottery wheel in her studio.

In the midst of this profound shift, a dormant seed of creativity began to sprout. I had briefly experimented with ceramics years prior, but the intensity of the emotions the clay evoked had led me to step away. This time, however, I was drawn back by a deep craving to reconnect with a world that often felt visually exclusive. Ceramics and relief printmaking offered a tangible bridge, mediums where my hands could "see" and my feelings could find form. The tactile nature of clay and the carved lines of wood allowed me to translate my inner world into something others could experience, regardless of their own visual abilities.

Cheri Owen with guide dog Martinez at night by the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, Washington Monument in the distance.

My time in the Air Force instilled in me a powerful resilience, a trait that proved invaluable as I navigated the challenges of blindness. The Blind Rehabilitation Centers offered me the tools to live again, to learn to perceive and interact with the world through touch, hearing, smell, and taste. Learning Braille opened up a new realm of communication, and the arrival of my guide dog, Martinez, brought a newfound sense of confidence and freedom. Martinez is more than just a guide; he is my steadfast companion, offering unwavering support and reminding me that I am capable and loved.

Cheri Owen speaks with a group of women at a round table during a workshop, holding a white cane and wearing yellow glasses.

The philosophy behind "Hearing the Light" emerged from this personal journey. As my sight diminished, my other senses sharpened, revealing a richness and depth I had not fully appreciated before. This understanding informs not only my art but also my approach to teaching, where I encourage others to explore their senses beyond the visual and discover the boundless possibilities of creative expression rooted in mindfulness and tactile awareness.

Cheri Owen and her guide dog Martinez smiling on the beach.

My experiences have also ignited a passion for advocacy within the visually impaired community. I believe in the strength, talent, and inherent value of individuals who navigate the world without sight. Through my art and my involvement with organizations like Guide Dogs for the Blind, I strive to foster understanding and create a world where everyone has the opportunity to shine their unique light. My story is one of loss, yes, but ultimately it is a story of profound discovery, resilience, and the transformative power of art to connect us all on a deeper, more sensory level.

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