Who, What and Why

Rebecca Lazinger, Fine Art

Bio - Summary

Rebecca Lazinger is a self‑taught contemporary painter based in New York City. For years, art lived quietly in the background while she built a career in finance and medical communications, all while carrying the silent burden of surviving 9/11 and the isolation of an abusive marriage. Breaking free opened the door to painting as a lifeline — a way to rebuild and share her truth.

Working in oil, charcoal, and mixed media, Rebecca creates layered portraits and still lifes that explore resilience, presence, and the small delights of daily life. Her paintings often capture emotion beneath expression — the flicker in the eyes, the tension in a forehead, a gesture of support, a tear. With PTSD, words are often not enough, but art can carry a shared understanding across different stories.

Professional Highlights & Background

My Why

Silent Burden

For much of my adult life, art lived quietly in the background while I built a career in finance and medical communications. Outwardly, I was moving forward, but inwardly I carried the silent burden of surviving the 9/11 attacks at age 23, just as I was beginning my adult career. Without treatment, the silence around my trauma left me vulnerable to harm, and I was subjected to an abusive marriage that isolated and diminished me.

Turning Point

The PTSD symptoms from multiple traumas took over — nightmares, insomnia, exhaustion, and relentless anxiety — until they finally stopped me in my tracks. Seeking help became the turning point: with support, I found the strength to leave, reclaim my life, and open the door to painting as a lifeline — a way to process what I had lived through and share my truth.

Rebuilding Through Art

I came to painting later in life, and that timing gave my work a distinctive intensity and perspective. What began as survival took shape through pencil and charcoal drawings, often self‑portraits created in the context of art therapy, where I used the figure to confront and externalize my experiences. Soon I realized the medium could not contain what I needed to express. That drive led me to oil painting, which offered the depth and richness my story required. Over time, I began to think in images first, and painting gave me the language to express what words could not.

Themes in My Work

My paintings move between grief and memory, presence and lightness. Some portraits hold subtle tension, while others are raw, anguished images that finally release, crying in paint. What began with self‑portraits has expanded into broader subjects and themes, reflecting both personal experience and the wider world.

I paint to document what is emerging in my life and in the spaces around me. Still lifes and food paintings offer a counterpoint: objects that signify pause and recognition — the presence of a friend, the delight of a treat, the fondness of a shared joy. These images carry survival and presence in quieter ways, reminding me that resilience is not only about enduring but also about noticing. Together, the works document both the aftermath of trauma and the fragile, steadying beauty of rebuilding.

Beyond the Studio

My art and story have also found recognition beyond galleries. I have spoken in educational and advocacy settings — including presentations to social workers, college classes, and community groups — about trauma, patient experience, terrorism, and abuse. My perspective has been included in national media coverage (CNN, Fox), with my artworks used in documentaries on ESPN and PBS that explored resilience and healing from PTSD.

Writing and Advocacy

In addition to painting, I have written about resilience and the hope for peace. My 2023 op‑ed in the Connecticut Post called for an end to terrorism, reflecting the same clarity and drive that fuels my art. Whether through words or images, I seek to create spaces of recognition, dialogue, and healing.

Shared Recognition

Sharing my work revealed something unexpected. Viewers often recognize feelings inside the images even if our stories differ. A grimace, a gesture of support, a tear — these visual cues connect across different lives, carrying a shared understanding that bridges silence. That reminder showed me that what I was making mattered, and that I didn’t have to carry everything alone.

My Hope

Each painting, whether heavy or light, is both a record of presence and a marker of transformation — a way of noticing, documenting, and shaping a life that feels authentic. My hope is that in meeting these images, others find their own moments of recognition, steadiness, or breath.

And if you reached the bottom of this section and are still reading…I thank you! Thank you very, very much for being a part of my artistic journey.