I draw and write, really, because I have to. There is no other way. I've always been a difficult person to most people, this is no secret. I've heard people describe me as strange (or worse) so often growing up that I've just learned to be quiet. My thought processes are hard to follow, I am erratic, jump to conclusions too quickly, am traumatized by large gatherings. Creating art feels like slipping out of my body and singing, feels like freedom... especially now, as I'm learning to be creatively honest. Many times, when re-reading my poetry or looking at a piece, I have this eerie sensation of confronting my own gaze, a doubleness that I wrote about earlier on when I dabbled in portraiture. But this is different: there is an innerness to it, an intimacy. It startles me, that I have grown bold enough to allow my inner self to walk out in the world in this way. But there is no other way. Every time someone tells me he or she loves my work, or is inspired by it, I am utterly awed. It's magical. It's as though I'm saying something to someone without speaking at all, something true, unbounded and meaningful. My twentysomething year fight-up with conversation skills takes on new meaning. Chances are I'm never going to acquire any at this age anyway. It makes me me.
Love and Blessings,
"Winged and Unfamiliar" Watercolour, Ink and Collage.
(piece available for purchase)