The first time artist Amber Groome presented her creations to the public, she cried. Not from happiness, but from the fear of exposing herself to the world, of putting herself out there.

“I remember peering around the corner because I hadn’t seen them hanging up yet and going, ‘Oh my gosh,’” she recalled, eyes wide with the memory. “It was just like . . . just to see people looking at them was too much for me, it was a different reality.” This was back in 2008 when Groome traveled with Lindsay Gallery owner Duff Lindsay to the annual Art Chicago event.

Flash forward to 2012 and Groome is getting ready for a show at the Lindsay Gallery, as well as for a return to the New York Outsider Art Fair. Sitting in the light-filled Short North art haven, the red-haired artist looks over an array of her newer pieces and gently tucks lace into place and runs her hands over the figures. “Now, it’s becoming empowering, in a way,” she mused. “I’ve created this voice and this responsibility to communicate these things – it’s amazing to me.”

Groome’s art, rows upon rows of tiny dolls that literally wear their hearts outside of their bodies, is such a personal expression of pain, sorrow and trauma that it literally took years for the artist to show the pieces to anyone but her close friends and family. Now, she is proud that her works evoke strong emotional results from others and can possibly serve as a catharsis for those in need. “They are so intimate, the symbolism of them that I carry, it’s revealing for people to see them,” she said. “They definitely bring up a lot of emotion.”

Stuck through with pins, mouths gaping in blood red “O”s, the dolls reflect Groome’s travels through life with bipolar disorder as her constant companion. Navigating the world as a female with a mental illness informs Groome’s work through myriad allusions to medication, femininity and birth/rebirth. While initially fearful about showing her work, she is not shy about discussing her struggles. “Mental illness is a reality, yet it has a stigma,” she sighed. “It’s terribly stigmatized; everybody deals with it, everybody has seen it in their families and it’s relevant to the human condition.”

“It’s funny that it’s so taboo,” she continued. “And what is that doing for everybody? We should all be working together to get us all a little happiness and empowerment.”

The dolls themselves grew out of Groome’s youthful sketches of similar images. “[The dolls] have always personified part of my identity,” she explained. “I guess I was always intrigued by them. I really like things that are uncanny, things that are familiar, but at the same time give you an uncertain feeling. Yeah, they’re creepy, but I like that. Dolls are really creepy. They’re inanimate, but have potential for being life-like.”

Sculpted from polymer clay and baked off in an oven, the dolls are dressed in bits and pieces of ephemera that Groome picks up while canvassing local antique shops. Drawn to the mysterious narratives inherent in old treasures, the artist tends to romanticize and create her own visions for her unique finds. A chance discovery of an old printer’s box inspired her to show her dolls tucked into each nook of the wooden rectangle. “I just really fell in love with the box aesthetically,” she said. “I loved the idea of filling it obsessively with dolls, it became a ritualistic kind of thing. They’re more protected in these environments; it’s more intimate to have the boxes and be able to get up in there and look at them closely.”

Viewers, especially women, have often connected with the dolls in their wooden houses. Some have broke down in tears, while all are moved by the raw emotion on display. One woman bought a piece for herself, and then one for her daughter who had just been diagnosed with bipolar disorder. “That right there is my main motivation in a way, to move somebody that much,” Groome marveled. “That’s exactly what other women artists were doing for me – to see myself in somebody else’s work is all that I could ever hope for.”

Another collector is the well-known doctor and social activist Patch Adams. He’s bought two of the 32-year-old artist’s works, believing that they can spark conversation among his patients and be an inspiration to others who are going through rough times. “Patch Adams, that was a big one for me,” she smiled.

Now more at ease with having her creations out in the world, Groome is looking forward to her latest exhibit. “A funny story that I heard from one of the shows,” she recalled, “A particular collector, her and another female artist, were talking: ‘Oh they seem to be smiling a little bit, she must be happier this year,’” said Groome, a big smile on her face and not a tear in sight.

Amber Groome’s work will be on display through February at the Lindsay Gallery (986 N High St.), alongside Morris Jackson. A reception will be held on February 3rd from 6 to 9 p.m.